The unspoken - there are things "nice" people don't talk about. Seems I'm not nice. In Dejibo's brown thread I breathed a sigh of relief , yes, yes, this is a problem. Poor Dad lay in bed for a week with Sciatica then some weeks more. My nice family certainly wasn't going to talk about BMs. The other, well with a jug a brother purchased, he could do it himself. I saw Dad's blue eyes were now brown, in a no-nonsense voice, ( I should have been a nurse - as an elementary school teacher guess I got some training in no-nonsense), OK, I said picking up the bed pan, let's use it. So he did.
Anyway, my point is, there is a crip hierarchy (we all know that, we should know that) - walking trumps canes, canes trump walkers, walkers trump wheelchairs (I do play poker sometimes - but that sounds like bridge). If I allowed it, as a chair user, I could be low hierarchy. I hold tight and tell some (some who aren't even interested!!) I'M SELF-TOILETING! That trumps self and always catheterized. Hey, I got to hold on to something. Wheelchair use is a very prickly use and transition thing emotionally. It is.

To quote Popeye, I yam who I yam. Put me in a hierarchy, I'll run your toes over. Whoops, I'll say, what?? Being in a chair means I work a little harder at being me, so no one forgets. Wheelchairs ain't for sissies! (to mis-quote Bette Davis who spoke of old age)