Before one has experienced a measure of disability, it can be easy to dismiss accessible space as a one-size-fits-all inconvenience to the rest of the world.
No parking space for you, but six empty handicapped ones? Sigh.
You make do, go about your day, and think little more of it.
Even I, living every day with an array of symptoms, still regularly find myself drawn up short when some mundane activity suddenly presents an obstacle I didn’t anticipate.
This winter, a frequent such shock was public restrooms that lack hot water for washing.
I have arthritis which troubles primarily my small joints, i.e., hands and feet.
It’s pretty easy to manage one’s feet in public. Socks and shoes keep them warm and protected, though walking long distances raises challenges. These are foreseeable challenges, however. I can plan for them.
Hands, however, are another story. Grabbing, twisting, the hard jabs required by the ever-more-ubiquitous touchscreens replacing human clerks… Life can be hell on an aching hand.
I become more grateful every day for the power doors that open themselves for me.
For those that don’t require a powerful push with aching fingers to activate, I mean!
Add to those unavoidable discomforts the regular painful shock of a blast of ice cold water in a public lavatory. The pain can be momentarily crippling. The effect of washing in very cold water can persist via stiffness and discomfort for the next couple of hours.
I have the option of not washing, of course, but that’s disgusting. It also means I’m selfishly exposing others to nasty germs until I find a better option for a thorough hand washing. Hand sanitizer is no substitute for soap, warm water, and sufficient agitation.
I expect primitive facilities without hot running water at parks and campgrounds, but the specific washrooms I can recall with this problem from this winter include my sons’ pediatric dental office and a Starbucks in the densely developed suburban community where I live.
There’s no excuse for medical offices’ or chain restaurants’ premises to lack warm water in public restrooms. It lowers hygiene standards for everyone, and presents an actual health hazard to some of us with special needs.
Do building codes allow public spaces to offer these sub-standard facilities? If so, how and where do I report them? If not, is local government and the permitting office the correct level at which to agitate and ask for better?
With tiny, on demand water heaters available to fit beneath any sink, this isn’t a technical problem to overcome. Instead, it is a question of what we can reasonably expect in a developed society that likes to claim superiority over the rest of the world.
Universal access to clean hands seems like an easy achievement in the United States of America!