Accessibility, Arthritis, and My Personal War on Staircases

I don't know why G's difficulties with stairs hurt me more at Disney World and on Disney Cruise Line.

Maybe it's because Disney is supposed to be the place where everyone gets to have fun.

Maybe it's because vacations are supposed to be easier than real life.

Maybe it's because Disney does so many things right that the places where they get it wrong stand out even more.

There are attractions that G can't experience because of stairs.

I'm looking directly at you, Swiss Family Treehouse.

There are restaurants that require a strategic planning session before we even make a reservation.

The Japanese restaurants where they cook in front of you? Most people see dinner.

G sees those stairs and suddenly it's Mount Everest.

And then comes the part that breaks my heart.

She gets embarrassed.

Not because she did anything wrong.

Not because she is complaining.

But because she worries she is holding the rest of us back from enjoying ourselves.

She isn't.

Not for a second.

But that doesn't stop her from feeling it.

The pool at Disney's Beach Club and Yacht Club is another challenge. The stairs seem harmless until you are the person who has to climb them while everyone else runs ahead excited about the pool.

On Disney Cruise Line there are little reminders everywhere.

The beautiful themed staircase on the Disney Destiny that everyone wants to pose on.

The outdoor walking path on the Wish-class ships that circles the ship until it suddenly doesn't, because stairs appear and the path effectively ends for her.

Most people probably never notice.

We always do.

But the worst staircase in the entire Disney universe lives on the Disney Dream and Disney Fantasy.

The staircase to the AquaDuck.

I hate those stairs.

Not dislike.

Not strongly prefer another route.

Hate.

To ride the AquaDuck you have to climb what feels like a million stairs.

There is no elevator.

There is no ramp.

There is no alternate route.

Just step after step after step.

When G was little, one of us would carry her.

My husband would carry her.

I would carry her.

We made it work because that's what parents do.

But she has been too big for that for a very long time.

So now she stands at the bottom and looks up.

She wants to ride it.

She wants the experience.

She wants to laugh and scream and splash and come down the other side talking about how amazing it was.

But she can't get there.

And that, to me, is the saddest part.

Not the stairs themselves.

Not the inconvenience.

Not even the pain.

It's the moment she looks up at something fun and says quietly,

"I wish I could, but I can't."

And there is nothing I can do.

As a parent, you spend years fixing things.

Band-Aids.

Homework.

Broken toys.

Bad days.

You become convinced that if you try hard enough, you can solve almost anything.

But sometimes there is no solution.

Sometimes all you can do is stand beside your child at the bottom of a staircase and wish you could carry them one more time.