Woman with MS gets motorized wheelchair, city of Pittsburgh says ride the bus

The Brian O'Neill column in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:

This is among the new definitions of irony in the Iron City.

Because Valerie Flynn's multiple sclerosis has reached the point that she needs a motorized wheelchair, ACCESS has decided her souped-up wheels mean she should start riding the bus instead of the van for the disabled.

I went out to see Ms. Flynn (pictured), 49, yesterday at her home on Ligonier Street in Lawrenceville, up a hill from Penn Avenue and Butler Street and down a slope from Liberty, the three roads where the bus lines are.

She grew up in Morningside and moved to Shaler 20 years ago, but 11 years ago she was diagnosed with MS. She moved back to the city in 1991 to be closer to her doctors and physical therapists. Over the years, she has gone from using a cane to a walker to a manual wheelchair to this power chair, which she has been using since 2007.

Her chair isn't supposed to be outside in extreme conditions, the kind Pittsburgh has several months a year. She showed me the maintenance instructions:

"WARNING! Direct exposure to water or dampness could cause the power chair to malfunction electronically and mechanically. Water can cause electrical components to corrode and the chair's frame to rust. ... Avoid exposure to rain, snow, ice, salt or standing water whenever possible."

But there's none of that in her recent letter from ACCESS, the arm of the Port Authority that provides about 2 million rides to 26,000 citizens each year, about 19,000 of them elderly and the rest younger but disabled.

"People with disabilities are now expected to make accessible Port Authority service their first choice of transportation, and use ACCESS only for those trips where their disability prevents them from using public transportation," the letter said.

She could still use ACCESS at her current rate under certain circumstances, such as "an accumulation of snow or ice." But if she wants to ride the van when the weather is deemed OK, she'd have to pay double her current rate -- $4.50 instead of $2.25 on her average one-way trip.

That change goes into effect Dec. 18, unless she wins a written appeal. That's because Ms. Flynn went Downtown on the last Tuesday in September to be evaluated in ACCESS offices on Smithfield Street. She was asked to make her way through two rows of chairs set up as they would be on a bus, and then park her chair inside a taped-off area to one side.

When she did, she said, the physical therapist giving the test exclaimed, "Oh, you can ride a bus."

Ms. Flynn pointed out it wouldn't be so easy if there were people sitting in those seats, and she wondered who would tie her seat down. Told she was expected to do that, and only ask the driver for help if absolutely necessary, she worried that she'd have to do just that and anger the other passengers by slowing everyone down.

"I don't know where you're living," Ms. Flynn said she explained, "but people these days -- they're not very happy."

Because Ms. Flynn passed that test and another where she negotiated Downtown curb cuts and uneven surfaces "with moderate assistance," she got mail two weeks ago telling her what she'd won: an envelope filled with bus schedules and an identification card that will allow her to ride the bus at half fare "all day, every day."

She's "petrified" of riding the buses. Since her illness, she has been nervous whenever she's in a crowded room.

Yesterday was a nice afternoon, so she agreed to show me how she'd have to get to the bus. She rode down the ramp from her front door, and along the sidewalk until it got as choppy as the ocean. At that point, she had to ride in the street.

Then we rode down the hill to Penn Avenue. There was a crosswalk behind the doughboy statue where Penn and Butler Street converge, but to get to Butler's buses from there she'd have to go down steps -- which she obviously can't do.

The Americans with Disabilities Act says if a person with a disability is not prevented from getting to a bus, they are expected to use one, but the terrain Ms. Flynn must negotiate can prevent access even in good weather.

Her written appeal will go before a review board made up of persons with disabilities, and if that is denied, she can take it up with Karen Hoesch, executive director of ACCESS.

She should win her appeal. Unless Franz Kafka is writing the regulations, an indoor chair rolling down a hill toward a set of steps in Pittsburgh is not access to anything.