I absolutely hate to write this article. Because I hate being ghosted. I hate dead ends and I hate broken wheelchairs and this article ‘sadly’ is all about it. Wheelchairs being broken during travel is the second biggest fear of travelers who use a wheelchair. Being taken for an alien and being stabbed is number one.
It’s not that I don’t have something to say but because I’m tired of saying it. Tired of dead ends. Tired of being ignored. And most of all, tired of something as essential as a wheelchair being treated like expendable luggage.
This is the story of what happened when my wheelchair was broken during a flight and how the response that followed revealed a much bigger problem.
What Happened.
On 9 August 2025, I flew from Gran Canaria to Stockholm, with a five-hour transit in Barcelona.
When I received my wheelchair during transit, the joystick was broken. That meant I could no longer use it electrically and I had to push it manually.
Oddly, I didn’t react the way you might expect. I stayed calm. Partly because I was exhausted from travel, and from constantly having to advocate for accessibility. But also because I believed the airline would do the right thing. That there would be a system. A response. Support.
At the airport, the ground staff took photos, documented the damage, and helped file a Property Irregularity Report (PIR), a standard procedure, and one clearly outlined in airline policies.I was told I would receive assistance upon arrival in Stockholm.
I didn’t.
Instead, I was handed my broken wheelchair and left to figure things out on my own. No one at the airport knew anything about my case. No one offered support. No contingency plan. Just a suggestion to call customer service. I still had a train and a bus journey ahead of me. With a broken wheelchair. And luggage. Imagine arriving in a new country under those conditions.
What I Did Immediately
Once I got home with the help of my friends, reality set in. I couldn’t move around properly. I couldn’t go out. Even basic tasks like grocery shopping became complicated. So I did what any reasonable person would do, I reached out for help. I called. I waited. For hours.
Eventually, I got through to customer service, hoping for something simple like temporary mobility support or even empathy. Instead, what I received was something else entirely.
The Orthopedic Clinic Request
I was told to visit an orthopedic clinic. Not for treatment. But so they could contact the airline and confirm compensation for my wheelchair. Let that sink in. The responsibility to fix a problem caused by the airline was being redirected to me, and then to a third party with no role in the incident.
Here is my response:
“Thank you for your reply. I’m sure these protocols were designed by experts, people who understand disability, customer service, and human rights. I assume individuals with disabilities were consulted. I assume you understand the difference between baggage and a wheelchair.
So let’s break it down.
You want me to visit an orthopedic clinic so they can ask you to compensate me for my wheelchair?
- How am I supposed to get there when you’ve broken my wheelchair? Should someone carry me? If so, please provide names and numbers.
- Why do I need to prove the damage? Your own staff witnessed it. It’s documented. What more evidence is required?
- Or is this about verifying my disability? Whether I ‘really’ need a wheelchair? Why does that matter if you broke it. Why do you need to see what’s under my skirt?
- Which clinic should I go to? I’m from Pakistan. You don’t operate there. Should I pause my life to navigate a system created because of your mistake?
Let me simplify this for you:
- Send me your written protocol involving orthopedic clinics
- Clarify when clinics became wheelchair suppliers
Wheelchair shops sell wheelchairs. I’ve already found one and asked them to send you an invoice.
You broke my wheelchair. You replace it.
Anything beyond that? That’s an additional cost caused by your delay.
I look forward to a logical response.”
— Tanzila
I later discovered I’m not the first person this has happened to. Sandra Guerra experienced a similar situation with the same process, same response and even started a petition to raise awareness. Which raises a serious question: if this keeps happening, why hasn’t the system changed?
Stakeholder Mapping
To understand where the breakdown happens, let’s look at the stakeholders involved:
- The airline (primary responsibility)
- The airport where damage occurred (PIR documentation)
- The destination airport (arrival support)
- Insurance companies (secondary, if applicable)
- Suppliers (wheelchair repair or replacement providers)
Notice what’s missing? An orthopedic clinic.
There is no logical or contractual reason for medical professionals to be inserted into a compensation process for damaged equipment. My contract as a passenger is with the airline. That’s where accountability lies.
What Should Have Happened
The solution isn’t complicated. In fact, it’s painfully simple:
- Immediate Support
Wheelchair damage is urgent. It affects mobility, independence, and dignity. There should be immediate assistance, not delays. - Temporary Replacement
Provide a temporary wheelchair at the destination until repair or replacement is complete. - Direct Responsibility
The airline should assess the damage. If repair isn’t possible, replace the wheelchair. No outsourcing responsibility to the passenger. - Clear Communication
Coordinate between airports and airline teams. Passengers shouldn’t have to repeat their story at every step. - Recognize Reality
A wheelchair is not luggage. It is an essential mobility device.
The Bigger Problem
Even in Europe, where accessibility standards are often praised, assistive devices are still treated through the lens of baggage handling. That mindset is the root of the issue.
Because when you treat a wheelchair like a suitcase, you design systems that fail the people who depend on them. I’ve traveled to over 34 countries. I actively encourage wheelchair users to explore the world, to travel independently, to claim space. But experiences like this plant doubt. Not just about one airline but about the systems meant to support us.
This didn’t have to become a story. It could have been a simple act of accountability.
You broke my wheelchair.
You replace it.
That’s it.
