Chairs, Choices & the Chase for Freedom

Kaedyn has a brand-new set of wheels!!! an Offcar Quasar in champagne gold, with a sleek white e-fix controller. It’s stylish, strong,nand totally him. Straight out of The Tortured Poets Department. Taylor would be proud!

But like everything in additional needs parenting, it didn’t appear overnight. It took months of planning, stress, phone calls, and tears.

We started shopping in April 2024. Not because it was urgent yet, but because I’ve done this before. I know the signs: the slouch, the tight fit, the unsupported legs. This is Kaedyn’s fourth wheelchair and I’ve learned the hard way what happens if you wait.

And yet, even being early… we were still too late.

By early 2025, the old chair was dangerous and I had already acquired an $8000 quote to repair this single problematic wheel. I checked it before school one Friday and realised that wheel was about to fall off. If I hadn’t looked, he could’ve ended up injured. I cried in the car, I cried on the phone. (What can I say? Emotional Cancerian here!) But mostly, I cried because I was angry. Because I knew and I was helpless to stop it.

We are constantly at the mercy of a system that doesn’t consider time. And when you’re raising a child with complex needs, time isn’t a luxury—it’s a currency. One we spend carefully, fight to protect, and so often lose waiting for systems to catch up.

I called NDIS in full meltdown mode: “You need to decide. NOW. Because either way, something’s happening and your glacial timing nearly put my son in hospital.”

They called back the next week with approval. The funds hit that day. I paid for the new chair the day after.

We used a temporary light drive chair (after using the commode just to get him inside for a change that friday), and then we waited four months for the Quasar to arrive.

This is his fourth chair:

πŸŒ€ The Wizzybug – pure chaos and donuts.
🐨 The Permobil Koala – the one that taught me to spot breakdown signs.
✨ The Glide Joy – great, until Kaedyn outgrew it faster than we could blink.
πŸš€ And now, the Offcar Quasar – his fiercest, flashiest, most fitting chair yet.

But this isn’t just about wheelchairs.

It’s about mobility. Dignity. Freedom. It’s about knowing when to act and doing it, even when the system doesn’t make it easy.

If you’re a parent wondering when to start: that last inch of space between your child’s body and the frame? That’s your sign. If you can fit more than three fingers between the knee and cushion...it’s time.

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