Just wanted to add my two cents:
My dad was always one of those super-energetic, healthy as a horse types. He could do anything, no matter how physically demanding, all day long, then grab four hours of sleep and do it all again the next day. Mildly sick one or two days a year, if that.
Then in his 40s, Dad developed several medical conditions that caused severe pain, fatigue, loss of stamina, and an inability to bounce back from minor illnesses. Always a WDW lover and local annual passholder, he kept gamely trying to do the parks--and invariably he'd wind up doing the bench tour for a few hours before packing it in and going home. Like many people, he resisted the idea of a wheelchair or an
ECV. He just couldn't wrap his brain around the idea that he was disabled. So he fought bitterly, and his medical conditions always won. Many days he simply couldn't get from the car into a park at all, and many nights we'd have to sit for an hour or two at the front entrance waiting for him to gather his strength to get back to the car.
Finally, one day he gave in and rented an ECV to get my mom to quit nagging him. It was like having my old dad back. He had energy again. He was paying attention to everything around him instead of focusing on the pain. He had an almost childlike sense of wonder as he took in the parks in a way he thought would never be possible again.
At the end of the day, when we returned the
scooter, Dad literally cried. When I asked why, he said, "I feel like I got my wings back today."
Not long after that, Dad got a personal ECV, which he has taken all over the world. He's on a new medication regimen now, and mostly gets around with a cane. But the ECV continues to live in the back of the SUV, available for the times when he's having flareups. It's really amazing how transformative a mobility device can be in someone's life.