Yes, I use a wheelchair, but I probably don’t want your help – able-bodied people need to stop forcing it on us

Using a wheelchair for exercise has its trials. But they don’t arise from the pushing.

I’ve written before about how annoying it is that people seem to think I’m incapable of tackling a hill, despite my going out in clothes liberally splattered with the Nike swoosh.

I wear them in an attempt to show that I’m doing what passes for jogging with legs that aren’t well adapted to that since having had a cement truck on top of me. I can walk on them with the aid of crutches but not well and it burns like hellfire. This is why I resort to wheels.

I have a chair with a detachable one that turns it into a three-wheeled ATV. It was purchased at considerable cost. But even though I fancy it makes it look a bit sci-fi, people still don’t get the message.

“Need a push mate?” is a constant refrain. Note the number of four-letter words in that.

However, after what happened on a recent journey, I’m beginning to wonder whether I shouldn’t look at that request in a different light. At least it affords me the opportunity to say “no”.

Let me explain. I’d just approached the first rising ground I encounter on my regular route. It’s a short stretch but quite steep. As such, it takes a bit of time and quite a bit of effort to get past. I’ve checked my Fitbit. It registers a satisfyingly sharp rise in my heart rate.

On this particular morning, I’d put Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo’s podcast on my phone. These two broadcasters are skilled conversationalists. Listening to them snark at each other while opining on the latest movie releases is a real pleasure and an escape given that I spend much of my working week writing about the attempts to rip this country apart by the shameful excuse for a government run by Boris Johnson.

My focus on the radio hosts made it all the more jarring when I felt hands on my back and the chair taking off like the Road Runner being pursued by Wile E Coyote in one of those classic Looney Tunes cartoons. Except I didn’t feel inclined to say “meep meep”. I ended up shouting “no, get off, go away” because, excuse the profanity, it scared the s*** out of me.

Think about it. How would you feel if someone suddenly came up behind you, grabbed you, and started pushing you?

My wife has occasionally said, “You’ll understand how women sometimes feel,” after some of what I’ve experienced post-accident. If that’s even a taste of what they get, it’s a wonder they’re not an awful lot more pissed off than they are.

“I’m just trying to help,” the man responsible for giving me the sort of fright you usually only get from one of those horror films that relies on jump scares shirtily replied.

It sure didn’t feel like help. It felt more like an assault. Five minutes later I had to stop for the purposes of unleashing a volley of swear words. Think: football fans berating the referee for awarding a dodgy penalty against their team. Another five minutes and I had to stop again for the same purpose.

“You’ll be grateful of that help one day,” a friend once piously declared.

No, I damn well will not. I’m never going to be grateful to have someone barrelling up behind me without so much as a by your leave, however infirm I might get.

Sometimes assistance is necessary because London was not built with disabilities in mind, much less the rest of the UK. Where it is needed it should be provided without fuss (which regrettably doesn’t always happen).

But most people are perfectly capable of asking for it when they need it.

Disabled does not mean incapable. In fact, many disabled people deeply resent being constantly treated as if they are.

I understand that people offering assistance do so because they want to feel like they are fully paid up members of the human race. But believe me, unwanted help can be equally as bad as the lack of it when it is needed. And don’t even get me started on the aggressive response you sometimes get when you refuse it.

The incident I endured was one of those cases. #JustAskDontGrab on Twitter suggests I’m far from alone in experiencing this sort of thing.

The forthcoming Paralympics – the build-up for which is just starting to crank up – will feature a lot of very capable disabled people.

Perhaps it could facilitate a real discussion about this. It’s sorely needed.