I'm loathed to put up yet another 'incident in the disabled space outside my house' posting, but yesterday's encountered made me aware of how relatively fragile my sense of equilibrium is at the moment.
Yesterday, London was subjected to a series of sharp thunderstorms. As any wheelchair user will tell you, rain is a pain in the arse. It is virtually impossible to avoid getting wet, and I have tried to develop a mindset whereby I resign myself to it, and just get on with life. This is made easier by the warm weather, it must be said.
I went to the supermarket, where I performed my usual balancing act, which involves me filling a basket on my lap until I use my chin to keep the last items on the pile to the checkout. From there, the shopping goes into 2 large bags-one on my feet and the other on my lap-and out to the car.
I arrived home to find a car in the disabled space outside the house, blue badge in sight. This meant that I had to park across the road, and as there are no drop kerbs outside the house, I couldn't take the shopping from the car, across the road and up the kerb on my own. Luckily, Penny was in and she came out to help me.
A few minutes later, the car owner returned to his vehicle, and I went out to talk to him. I told him that I had been forced to park across the road and get assistance to bring the shopping in.
His first response was to say,
"I know how you feel, mate. I'm knackered myself."
huh?
I replied, "Knackered, you may be. But I'm paralysed from the waist down. Want to swap?"
That is to say, I would have said this, had it not been for the fact that I only thought of this pithy response once I was back in the house.
He then went on to say that he had only just noticed the sign when he got back to the car (he seems to have missed the word disabled in white letters on the road), which makes the 'knackered' comment even more inexplicable.
Anyway. It is not the parking infringement that I wanted to talk about, except that it illustrated just how fragile my sense of independence is. I am able to look after myself, care for my children, run the house, even work as a freelance journalist. But all of this requires me to live right at the edge of my abilities, and even the smallest hardship can make it all seem so tenuous.
I know that I'm lucky: I'm relatively fit, I'm also quite strong, I have my core muscles that make balance easier, and I have a loving and supportive family and great friends. But it's the psychological effort involved in maintaining a positive outlook, especially when dealing with constant pain. What for most would be a mild inconvenience can be enough to unsettle me for the rest of the day.
Yesterday, London was subjected to a series of sharp thunderstorms. As any wheelchair user will tell you, rain is a pain in the arse. It is virtually impossible to avoid getting wet, and I have tried to develop a mindset whereby I resign myself to it, and just get on with life. This is made easier by the warm weather, it must be said.
I went to the supermarket, where I performed my usual balancing act, which involves me filling a basket on my lap until I use my chin to keep the last items on the pile to the checkout. From there, the shopping goes into 2 large bags-one on my feet and the other on my lap-and out to the car.
I arrived home to find a car in the disabled space outside the house, blue badge in sight. This meant that I had to park across the road, and as there are no drop kerbs outside the house, I couldn't take the shopping from the car, across the road and up the kerb on my own. Luckily, Penny was in and she came out to help me.
A few minutes later, the car owner returned to his vehicle, and I went out to talk to him. I told him that I had been forced to park across the road and get assistance to bring the shopping in.
His first response was to say,
"I know how you feel, mate. I'm knackered myself."
huh?
I replied, "Knackered, you may be. But I'm paralysed from the waist down. Want to swap?"
That is to say, I would have said this, had it not been for the fact that I only thought of this pithy response once I was back in the house.
He then went on to say that he had only just noticed the sign when he got back to the car (he seems to have missed the word disabled in white letters on the road), which makes the 'knackered' comment even more inexplicable.
Anyway. It is not the parking infringement that I wanted to talk about, except that it illustrated just how fragile my sense of independence is. I am able to look after myself, care for my children, run the house, even work as a freelance journalist. But all of this requires me to live right at the edge of my abilities, and even the smallest hardship can make it all seem so tenuous.
I know that I'm lucky: I'm relatively fit, I'm also quite strong, I have my core muscles that make balance easier, and I have a loving and supportive family and great friends. But it's the psychological effort involved in maintaining a positive outlook, especially when dealing with constant pain. What for most would be a mild inconvenience can be enough to unsettle me for the rest of the day.
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