
The NDIS Rollercoaster: One Man’s Fight for Mobility, Dignity, and Fairness
A friend of mine is a brain cancer survivor. Twice in his twenties he fought off cancer, and the second time cost him an eye and the life skills most of us take for granted. After surgery, he had to relearn everything—walking, talking, motor skills. It took years of determination, rehab, and grit to claw his way back to independence.
He’s lived with the impact of those battles ever since. But now, with age taking its toll, the old injuries and fatigue are catching up. Everyday tasks are harder, and walking is becoming more of a struggle. Eventually, he did what anyone in his situation should be able to do: applied for NDIS support.
The first time, he was rejected. The message? You’re not sick enough.
It took persistence, multiple applications, and more years of struggle before he was finally accepted. But even then, qualifying doesn’t mean you get help straight away. The NDIS approval and the funding are two separate processes. He waited almost another year for an actual support package.
So when his coordinator raised the idea of a mobility scooter — a tool to help him stay independent as walking became more difficult—it finally felt like a practical step in the right direction.
The Scooter Trial
I tagged along to the scooter trial. His package coordinator and an occupational therapist (OT) were there, helping him test different models. The session was positive. Smiles all round. He found a medium-sized scooter that was practical, safe, and portable. About $5,000 —just 10% of his $50,000 annual package.
He’s still mobile today, but walking has always been difficult, and age is making it worse. The scooter wasn’t about giving up—it was about ensuring a smooth transition as his mobility inevitably declines. A simple, practical step to safeguard his freedom and independence for the years ahead.
A week later, he told me NDIS had knocked back the request.
Strange, right? Funded to $50K, yet a life - changing mobility aid worth a fraction of that was deemed too much.
We joked maybe it was just a game of persistence—put in the request every six months until someone says yes. “Pester power.”
The Bizarre Twist
Then it got weird.
Despite the knock-back, his OT booked a home scooter trial. He didn’t request it. He didn’t want it. He’d already said it was pointless without funding.
But they brought it anyway.
Weeks later, when I caught up with him, he was frustrated and confused. His OT had called to say he couldn’t work with him anymore—the OT’s $6,000 allocation (part of the $50K) was already used up within six months.
Something didn’t add up.
Following the Money
He called his coordinator to review the accounts. What he found was staggering.
- An invoice of over $1,000 for that unnecessary home scooter trial which he never asked for.
- A long list of inflated service charges.
- And, the kicker: every chat with his coordinator was being billed at $200 per hour—more if they had to “research” something on his behalf.
All while the scooter that could change his daily life was deemed unaffordable.
The Bigger Picture
This isn’t just about one man’s scooter. It’s about systemic waste and misplaced priorities.
NDIS participants are treated like line items on an invoice. Providers drain budgets with endless admin, trials, and “consultations”—while the actual supports that improve quality of life get delayed or denied.
It’s a cruel irony: the system spends thousands on bureaucracy and box-ticking, but when it comes to something as tangible as mobility, independence, or dignity—the answer is "no."
Closing Point
The NDIS was supposed to be about empowerment, choice, and support. Instead, it often feels like a tangled bureaucracy designed to wear people down until they stop asking for help
My friend doesn’t want charity. He doesn’t want luxuries. He wants what the scheme was built for—a fair go, a chance to live with dignity, and the freedom to get around without begging for scraps from his own package.
The tragedy is that his story isn’t unique.
And unless the system changes, thousands more Australians with disability will continue to be robbed—of their time, their money, and their independence—by the very program meant to help them.





