The Reality Behind “Free” Transport

Maya’s Wheelchair Handover Appointment

Monday 20th April 2026

Monday was meant to be a straightforward day.

An 11:30am wheelchair handover appointment at Inca House in Ashford, expected to take around 60–90 minutes. Simple enough on paper.

Because we were offered free NHS hospital transport via G4S, we were asked to have Maya ready by 9:30am. Naturally, Maya was ready even earlier—positioned in her wheelchair by 9:15am, organised and prepared for whatever the day would bring.

Daddy, Nanny Dora and Maya arrived at Inca House and she didn’t really get seen until about 12:15. And by 1:15pm her assessment and handover were complete. They were ready to go home.

That’s when the waiting began.

The receptionist called transport. They were told the ambulance crew—Terry and his mum, Dora—were still collecting another patient from the William Harvey Hospital. Completely understandable. These teams are stretched, and they work incredibly hard.

But the reality for Maya was this:

She wasn’t picked up until after 3pm.

They didn’t get home until just before 4pm.

The Part That’s Hard to Explain

That’s nearly seven hours in a wheelchair.

Seven hours, with only one short break for a pad change.

Seven hours when Maya cannot shuffle.

Cannot reposition herself.

Cannot relieve pressure on her hips or bottom.

She didn’t complain loudly. She didn’t make a scene.

She just whimpered quietly in pain.

And that kind of pain—the silent, enduring kind—is the hardest to watch.

The moment we got home, and the ambulance pulled away, Maya cried out.

Her hips were hurting. Really hurting.

This Isn’t About Blame

This isn’t a complaint. It truly isn’t.

We are incredibly grateful for NHS transport and for the service that G4S provides. Without it, many families—including ours at times—would struggle to even attend appointments.

But the system is under pressure. There are simply too many people relying on too few resources.

For a patient who is mobile, who can stretch their legs, shift in a seat, read a book, or pass time with a puzzle—these delays are frustrating, yes, but manageable.

For Maya, they are painful.

Why We’re Considering a Different Option

This is why we hire a private wheelchair accessible vehicle (WAV).

It’s expensive—there’s no way around that.

But it offers something the current system can’t always guarantee:

timing, comfort, and dignity.

Being collected when we actually need to be collected.

Getting home without hours of waiting.

Reducing the physical toll on Maya’s already fragile body.

Sometimes, the cost isn’t just financial—it’s physical, emotional, and deeply personal.

The Bigger Picture: Giving Maya Control Back

Childhood cancer has taken so much from Maya.

Not just her health—but her independence, her spontaneity, her sense of control over her own life.

And that’s why your support means more than you may realise.

We are so, so grateful for every single person who has stood by us from day one—whether through messages, prayers, sharing our story, or donating.

Right now, we are also having to make some practical changes at home.

With a wheelchair, mobile hoist, tracking hoist, plinth, standing frame, and specialist chair all becoming part of daily life, we’re needing to declutter and create space.

So, with the utmost love and appreciation, we gently ask if people could pause on sending physical items. Your kindness has filled our home—and our hearts—but space is now something we urgently need.

Why Monetary Donations Make a Real Difference

Monetary donations, on the other hand, give Maya something incredibly important:

choice.

They give her moments of control in a life where so much has been decided for her.

A couple of Sundays ago, Maya decided she wanted to go to WHSmith (now TG Jones) on Hythe High Street.

She wanted to buy… a maths coursework book.

So we went.

The bus journey was an ordeal in itself—but we did it. And along the way, we saw familiar faces, stopped by Henry’s Wine Bar, and watched performers rehearsing for the upcoming Great Carersby Night Glam Night event at the Hythe Imperial Hotel.

The sun was shining.

There were smiles.

There was life beyond hospital walls.

And yes—Maya bought herself a little bubble tea soft toy.

She didn’t need it. She knew that.

But she wanted it.

Because for a moment, it made her feel like she had control again.

Thank You

To everyone who continues to support Maya—thank you.

You are helping us give her not just care, but dignity, choice, and moments of joy.

A Final Thought

Disability may change the way Maya moves through the world,

but it will never define the strength with which she faces it.