'I had to pay £75 for a chopping board': This is how much extra being disabled costs me

It’s really expensive to be a disabled person. Even if you’re not shelling out thousands for a wheelchair (because so many people don’t qualify for a suitable one on the NHS), or paying a premium for specialist foods you’re not allergic to, disability charity Scope has calculated that disabled households need, on average, an extra £1,010 a month to have the same standard of living as non-disabled households. But what’s so expensive about being disabled?

For some people, care charges are eye-wateringly expensive. Some have to have the heating on high because the cold makes their pain worse, or spend a small fortune on electricity to power their equipment. For others, it’s having to live on ready meals because they don’t have the energy or the concentration to prepare food safely. Incontinence pads, specialist computer software and adaptations to help you live at home are all extra expenses that non-disabled people simply don’t have to pay.  

I still resent the time I had to pay £75 for a chopping board that I’d otherwise have bought in Poundland, because it had some spikes on it that were supposed to help me use it one-handed. It feels indicative of how often aids and adaptations are priced ridiculously high.  

Many disabled people call it the disability tax. After all, if somebody has no other choices, they’ll have to buy it or go without.  

So, here’s a typical week in my life detailing the extra costs I have to pay because I’m disabled.  

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Monday 

I meet a friend for lunch in a part of Sheffield city centre with no Blue Badge parking. Normally I avoid places where I can’t park, but that severely limits where I can go so sometimes I make an exception. As public transport is inaccessible to me, what would have been a 10-minute drive cost me £19 in taxis.  

Tuesday 

I’ve been mostly walking with one crutch for a while but it’s become clear that I’d benefit from using two again. My previous left-hand crutch is unsuitable (long-term crutch use has put my hands and elbows under severe strain and I need a specialist grip on the handle). Plus I need it now, not in however-long-it takes-to-get-an-NHS-occupational-therapy-assessment-these-days, so I spend £31.40 on the crutch I need. While making the purchase, I also add an adapted chopping knife that will work better with the aforementioned elbow problems. Normally I’d spend up to a fiver on a knife, but this specialist one costs £13.90. 

Wednesday 

Nothing to report. 

Thursday 

It’s grocery day, where I pay more money for less onion, carrot and cheese because it’s pre-chopped or grated. I also pick up some medications that the NHS doesn’t cover, at £17.40. I can’t take advantage of special offers on laundry detergent or drinks because there’s no way I could carry more than one box or bottle, so I miss out on some savings too.  

I grab some N95 masks on the way home, at £5.99. These shouldn’t be a disability-related purchase, but as most non-disabled people have given up on them, it seems to be mostly disabled people who are still taking this precaution.  

Friday 

It’s Friday, I’ve worked hard, and I’m dreaming of a few days away from home. I consider a few different UK destinations for three days away, looking a few months ahead to save money. 

I compare prices for the cheapest accessible rooms (for me, that means a hotel with a lift and accessible bathrooms) and the cheapest inaccessible rooms, and the difference is shocking wherever I look.  

The cheapest room within five miles of Durham was £48 a night; the cheapest accessible room was £79 a night. The cheapest room in Brighton was £17 a night; the cheapest accessible room was £45 a night.

The cheapest room in Whitby was £44 a night; the cheapest with a lift and accessible bathroom was… there wasn’t one. The closest I could get was in Scarborough, a different town.  

I settle on Harrogate, spending £73 per night (£219 for three nights) when a non-disabled person could have spent £55 per night (£165 for three nights). 

The vicious cycle of the disability tax

Additional expenses like these add up, week after week, and contribute to an environment where disabled people – already living on less money – are paying extra for things non-disabled people take for granted or simply don’t have to pay for. I’m lucky to have saved enough to go away for a few days, but even for a basic three-night stay somewhere close, the disability tax stings, as it does with every purchase.  

It’s no wonder that 75% of the people referred to Trussell food banks are disabled or have a family member who is. The extra costs associated with disability keep disabled people trapped in dire financial circumstances. This creates a vicious cycle, where poverty worsens health, which worsens poverty.   Problems like this, that affect every area of a disabled person’s life, require holistic solutions, including making financial support easier to access, making more of the world accessible so inaccessibility isn’t the norm, and valuing disabled people’s participation in society enough to enable it effectively.  

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