The mindset that helps

• I travel on my terms. Shorter journeys first, quiet times where possible, and a clear plan B.
• Help is a tool, not a weakness. When I ask, the day goes smoother for me and for the people with me.
• Good enough beats perfect. If I need to sit, reroute, or pause, I do.

Before I go: planning that pays off

• Choose the right time. I avoid rush hour if I can. Fewer people means less stress, easier seating, and less jostling.
• Map the route for step free access. I check where the lifts, ramps, and low floor buses are, and where the accessible carriage tends to stop on the platform.
• Build in some extra time. I add 15 to 30 minutes for transfers, toilets, or a sit down.
• Decide my fallback. If a lift is out, can I take a different platform, a later train, or a bus instead. Knowing this calms me.

Booking help, tickets, and concessions

• Rail assistance. I book assistance when I can, so staff expect me at the station and at my destination. They can provide a ramp, help with boarding, and guide me between platforms.
• Cards that make life easier. Concessionary bus passes and rail discount cards can reduce cost and pressure. Lower cost means I feel less trapped if I need to change plans.
• Seat reservations. On longer trains I reserve a seat near the accessible toilet or the door. I try to pick the side that matches my stronger limb for easier sitting and standing.
• Digital and paper. I keep tickets on my phone and a paper backup if I am prone to fumbling.

What I pack, and why

• Light day bag with a firm strap. Cross body gives me balance and leaves hands free for rails.
• Water and a small snack. Fatigue hits harder when I am thirsty or hungry.
• Medication and proof. I keep any meds and a short note with emergency contacts.
• Communication aids. If words fail me, I have a simple card on my phone that says, “I have had a stroke. Please speak slowly. I may need extra time.”
• Grip and comfort. Folded lightweight rain jacket for warmth, tissues, and a simple folding stick or compact wheelchair parts if needed.
• Phone power. Portable charger, because battery anxiety is real.

At the station: how I set myself up to succeed

• I arrive early. Time to find lifts, toilets, and where my carriage will stop.
• I tell staff what I need. Clear and short works best, for example, “I need a ramp and help to the lift at the far end.”
• I keep one hand free. I avoid carrying hot drinks while moving.
• I stand where it is safe. I keep behind the line, face the oncoming train, and plant my feet before boarding.

Boarding and riding the train

• Board with help when offered. Ramps make a big difference. If my weaker leg leads, I turn slightly to keep my stronger side doing the heavy work.
• Pick the right seat. Priority seating is there for a reason. I sit aisle side if balance is tricky, window side if I need less visual bustle.
• Settle my kit. Bag under the seat or across my lap, never dangling. That stops sudden pulls on my shoulder.
• Manage stimulation. Noise cancelling headphones or simple earplugs reduce fatigue. I look down the carriage, not at the crowd, if I feel overwhelmed.
• Stand up with care. I brace my feet, push from the seat, and pause before walking.

Using buses with confidence

• I let the driver know. A short, “I will need the ramp when I get off please,” saves a scramble later.
• Low floor and kneeling buses. If the step looks high, I ask for the bus to kneel.
• Priority area. I use the priority seats or the wheelchair bay if needed. I face forward and hold a vertical rail where possible, which feels steadier than overhead bars.
• Press the bell early. I ask for help to stop near the front door if balance or steps are an issue.
• Exit slow and steady. I wait for the bus to stop fully. If my foot drags when tired, I remind myself to lift the knee higher.

Communicating on harder days

• Short sentences. If aphasia bites, I use simple words. “Ramp please at next stop.” It works.
• Show, do not wrestle. I point to a map or note on my phone. Many staff are happy to read a line or two.
• Breathing buys time. Two quiet breaths before speaking helps the words arrive.

Managing spasticity, pain, and fatigue while travelling

• Warm up first. Ten slow ankle pumps and a few shoulder rolls before I leave home.
• Position matters. I sit with feet flat and both thighs supported, which reduces spasticity. If needed, I place a rolled scarf under my weaker forearm.
• Micro breaks. On longer rides I flex and extend fingers, wiggle toes, and gently rotate ankles every 20 minutes.
• Pace the day. One main journey per day is kinder than stacking two or three. If I must stack, I schedule a proper sit down between legs.

When something goes wrong

• I keep it simple. “I need help. I have had a stroke.” People usually respond well.
• I choose safety over speed. If a lift fails or a platform changes suddenly, I ask for staff assistance and wait.
• I reset without shame. If a crowd triggers dizziness, I step aside, sip water, and rejoin when steady.

Travelling with family or friends

• Agree signals. A simple phrase like “Quick pause” means I need a stop without fuss.
• Share the plan. They know the route and the fallback, so they can help quietly.
• Divide tasks. One person carries tickets, another scouts lifts. I focus on my footing and energy.

Tiny habits that add up

• I check live updates before leaving the house.
• I keep my bag packed the same way every time, so I can find things by feel.
• I practise stepping on and off a low step at home to keep confidence up.
• I celebrate the wins, like choosing a quieter carriage or asking for the ramp without apologising.

Quick checklist for train or bus days

• Tickets, pass, and assistance booked where possible
• Route checked for step free options and toilets
• Bag packed light, with water, meds, and charger
• Communication card ready on phone
• Extra time added at each change
• Agreed signal with my companion, if I have one

Final Thoughts

Travel is not about proving anything. It is about moving through the world in a way that lets me live my life. Some days I go further. Some days I keep it local. Every calm journey, even just one bus stop to the park, builds the next one. We are The Incapables, and we travel on, at our own steady pace.