AS WHEELCHAIR USERS, we understand that our chairs are much more than just vehicles to get us from point A to point B. They are a lifeline and a connection to our livelihoods and careers. They allow us to feel safe when we’re out in our communities and enable us to participate in and enjoy the full benefits of society.

So, when our wheelchairs break, and become unsafe and unusable, we are essentially trapped in our homes – quite literally in bed – and are cut off from our daily, independent lives because we are unable to take proper care of ourselves without help (which is scarce).

Unfortunately, the wheelchair repair system in Massachusetts is broken. A brand new wheelchair can take one to two years to arrive. It’s common to wait three months or more for a spare part – and we all too often receive the wrong or defective parts, which means the waiting game starts all over again.

There also are never any loaner chairs available to use in the interim. This means we miss work, we have to cancel our plans with friends and family, and we can’t even run to the store if we need something. It’s beyond an inconvenience. It’s a violation of our civil rights. Such repeated indignities take a toll on your overall mental health – something the wheelchair repair companies simply don’t seem to understand or care about.

A bill before the Massachusetts House would, if passed, be a great first step on the long road to fixing this broken, unjust system. The legislation aims to expand consumer protections to ensure broken wheelchairs are both assessed and repaired in a timely fashion. Under the bill, all wheelchairs sold in Massachusetts would also come with a two-year warranty that would cover loaner chairs while users await the repairs. The bill unanimously passed the Senate in January, and we urge the House to follow suit.

There are only two wheelchair repair companies in the state, and because of the way the insurance is set up, we are required to use only these two firms. Neither of the companies keeps spare parts on their shelves, so they have to order them. We never have access to loaner chairs, and if we go outside the network for help and the vendor finds out, they will cancel our warranties. All wheelchair users in the state must go through the same byzantine process.

The two repair companies are run by private equity, which means their main motive is profit – and wheelchair repair isn’t exactly a money maker. That’s why we’ve seen the quality of our brakes and other replacement parts get shoddier and less safe with each passing year.

One of the companies covers a large region with more than 1,000 wheelchair users and has only two technicians on staff to come to people’s homes. Both companies consistently cut costs and ignore our needs because they know we have no other alternatives. It’s the modus operandi of private equity, a system that preys upon vulnerable people and flailing corporations.

Private equity and health care is a mismatch. Look no further than the Steward Health Care debacle. The havoc that Steward has wreaked continues to threaten hospital closures in communities that can’t afford to lose access to health care. Companies bought by private equity firms are 10 times more likely to go bankrupt as those that aren’t.

This is what happens when you monetize people. Nobody in any other industry would be allowed to operate this way.

Pamela has been stranded at home – and once even in a public restroom – not only because of faulty parts, but also because the repair company consistently sent her the wrong parts.

Once, while attempting to get to her car, the caster (a fork attached to a small front wheel) came off her wheelchair and she fell over onto the pavement breaking her hip. She ended up missing 10 weeks of work but because she was forced to remain homebound until a new caster could arrive. Worse – and adding to the stigma of wheelchair users – none of her coworkers could understand how a simple part, ordered with the serial number of her wheelchair, could possibly take 10 weeks to arrive.

No able-bodied person in today’s world would stand for this level of delay, bungling, and red tape. If the owner of a car kept receiving the wrong part over and over again, and they weren’t able to get a phone call through or a reliable fix date, they’d go to another dealer. But wheelchair users in Massachusetts don’t get to make that type of consumer choice.

This is not just a mental health or human rights issue for us, but an economic one for the Commonwealth, which pays upwards of $60,000 for each wheelchair. The state isn’t getting its money’s worth when the chairs break down and we’re not able to work, earn money, and pay taxes. Then, when we get sick or injured, Massachusetts gets stuck with the bill while these highly-profitable repair companies escape accountability.

We never know when our chairs are going to break, how long we’ll have to wait, or how long it will affect our well-being and livelihoods. Right now, we need the support of our legislators, the able-bodied, and other advocates to raise awareness of the plight of the disability community in Massachusetts and help us advance H.446/S.184.

While much more needs to be done, holding the industry to account and requiring them to provide responsive customer service is not only the right thing to do, it’s a matter of basic civil rights.

Pamela Daly is a retired publishing designer. Dan Harris works for the Boston Center for Independent Living.