November 2009 Archives

A stark reminder of the impact of our careless consumerism and laziness. When people, throw their rubbish in the street, they often tell themselves that they are keeping the roadsweepers in a job. Well, no, not really. Much of our rubbish gets washed into the drains by the rain or blown into rivers, and ends up going out to sea, perhaps eventually joining a huge 'island' of plastic debris.  This is not a victimless crime...

As anyone who has listened to me waffling on for hours will tell you, I'm always on the look out for that new piece of kit that's going to revolutionise my life. It is a subject that I will be discussing at some length in the new year, but this isn't intended as a teaser.

My dear brother Chris shares my curiosity in matters mechanical-mobility related. He has sent me a number of interesting snippets, but this time he has really excelled. As for comment, I leave it to him...
"It is often said that fortune rewards those prepared to take risks. I say  'There is a limit.' and climbing into a 300mph blender might just be it for me."

I spent yesterday afternoon trying to reconnect with knowledge floating around somewhere in the back cupboards of my brain. I found it eventually, and once I had dusted it down and removed an old bit of dried jam that had leaked out of a childhood memory, I found that it still worked.

All of this is a rather convoluted way of saying that I pruned a tree for the first time since my accident. Obviously I didn't climb it this time, but instead used a lopping pole (not to be confused with a loping Pole). This is a long pole with a cutting tool on the end that is quite tricky to control, but which allowed me to cut much of the small apple tree myself.

The apple trees (2) are in my mum's garden, in case you were wondering. No, I haven't set up an Arboricultural business, although it's tempting, just for the look on client's faces when I turn up in a wheelchair with a chainsaw. While I wasn't able to really get a good look at the trees from all angles, it was hugely satisfying to read the way they are growing and to look to shape them to improve air flow through the crown, reduce the risk of branches rubbing (this can cause areas for disease to get into the tree), but also to produce a shape that is pleasing to look at.

I suppose I always knew that the knowledge I had in this area was still available to draw on, but it was still a nice surprise to find the process very satisfying. My love for trees has not diminished, that I already knew, but to be able to 'work on a tree' again turned out to be really enjoyable.

At this point I feel I should inject a note of caution into the proceedings. DO NOT drop me a line and ask me to come and look at your sixty foot tall Plane tree that's growing over your roof, or expect me to take down an overgrown Leylandii hedge on your boundary line. If, however, you have a tree that's under ten feet tall in a garden that's wheelchair accessible, then I might come and look at it for you. For a fee. I can't believe I'm offering my services as a Bonsai tree-surgeon. Oh the humiliation, etc.

Well, either I'm getting better, or I'm pregnant. I have just spent the entire afternoon in some kind of frenzy, hurtling around the flat sorting and scrubbing, tidying anything not nailed down. All of this punctuated with almost obsessive handwashing.

One of the biggest challenges came when I tackled the sofa bed...

While I was doing my rehabilitation in Stoke Mandeville I had an infection which caused me to have a high fever. The reaction of the staff was to give me paracetamol, and then to throw all the bedclothes off, the windows open and then install a fan in the room.

The explanation I was given had a lasting effect on my approach to having a fever.

Our first priority is always to get the patient's temperature under control because until this is done, the body can't begin to tackle the infection. If your temperature gets above forty degrees, then you will suffer serious tissue damage.'

As a result of three days and nights of covers on, covers off mangling, the sofabed resembled a collapsed circus tent. When I began to strip the blankets off, I half expected stunned clowns to crawl out of the corners. I must confess a little disappointment to find the bed free of sawdust and candy-floss.

Making a bed as a paraplegic is no mean feat. There is planning involved, and even a little luck.

First a landing zone has to be established, then I launch myself from the wheelchair and eagerly into the fray. Once on the bed, I try and untangle the multiple layers and then make half the bed. Then I leave the bed, and repeat the process with the other half. The idea is that the two halves then blend together and you are left with a zen garden of smooth linen-ed loveliness.

This rarely happens. What then follows is fifteen minutes of pulling and smoothing until I get to something reasonably tidy. It is at this point that the edge of the cover gets caught in my wheels and the whole thing gets dragged sideways, revealing an oversized red shoe full of confettti. And I'm sure I heard a faint honking sound...

Alternative title: 'snout to worry about'.

Yes, I have just started a course of Tamiflu, as my GP has diagnosed possible swine 'flu this time. So lucky to go from one virus to another...

And I know I blogged about it. But I'm that's not the reason I got it. And I don't believe in the 'If it can happen it will happen' theory. If it were true, there'd be no reason to have the expression 'can happen' would there?

Anyways, if you haven't guessed, I'm a bit delirious at the moment. I manage to get my fever down for about an hour and a half before it starts creeping up and my head starts to thump like a pile-driver. Although that's not the worst bit. For some reason, when I get a fever, the neuropathic pain in my legs goes crazy. I feel like I've spent most of the last twelve hours being eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Then there's the challenge of trying to tell a four year old that there will be no kisses and cuddles with dad for a week.

And my laptop has chosen this week to turn up it's toes (do laptops have toes?), leaving the quandary of how to share the desktop with P for a week without passing on whatever is on my trotters...

I have work to do and I can't focus on anything for more than about 30 seconds.
Did I write that already?
See what I mean?

Right, back to the paracetomol and the wee nest of pillows and blankets that used to be a sofa.

Pfshhht hisss (me going back into my isolation bubble. It's great in here. I am even sheltered from the sound of pieces of Berlin wall being lumped onto desks up and down the country. I'm even sheltered from the spectre of Hasselhoff, the man who reunited Germany)

Penny's attending a course all this week, so I'm on the a.m. and p.m. school run, all with the aid of my powertrike, which has really come into it's own for this purpose.

The tough bit is the post school appetite and tiredness combination. R comes home hungry and tired, but still in need of some entertainment. It's tempting to hit the TV, but with a little effort this part of the day can be a wonderful time. I have found that it's all about saying "Why not?" to yourself.

Today, three cardboard boxes became a pirate ship, complete with sails, a crow's nest, cannon, and places for treasure. The trouble is, my 'why not' enthusiasm once released can get the better of me, and when I went hunting for empty toilet rolls more cannon, I leaned forward to pick something up off the floor, forgetting that I had a large pair of scissors on my lap...

I sat up to find a two inch gash in my trousers. Luckily, they were lined, and thankfully the blade didn't make it through the inner fabric, so I ended up with a four inch long angry graze rather than a femoral artery bleed.

I always try to learn the lessons from experiences such as these, but sometimes it's better not to think about them too much. I'm shivering just writing about it.

Still, it was a good opportunity to further educate R on the concept of paralysis. Of course she just wanted to take the opportunity to cover me head to foot in sticking plasters.