Category: Uncategorized

The fine art of making people smile

In all honesty I was actually planning on blogging today something happened that I feel the need to tell you all about. Martha and I made some strangers smile. That is always a good thing if you ask me.

When I woke up this morning I had no plans to leave the house, but when I saw how sunny it was there was no way I could pass up my mum’s invitation to go and visit a local art gallery. We’d probably been there less than five minutes when I heard a voice ask “Can I have my car painted that colour?”

Being the nosey person that I am I turned around to see which of the paintings he was looking at and was pleasantly surprised when I saw a man by the side of me admiring my blue walking frame Martha,

“I wonder if I could have my car painted that colour?” he grinned “It’s lovely.” I nodded back at him and was just about to launch into my why-I-love-Martha so much speech when his family came and joined us and started chatting about how great they thought she was and listed all the things they like about her: the blue paint (of course), the fact that she still looks like new (give it another two weeks and I’ll have scratched all the paintwork off) and the fact that she has a seat. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself, they’d come out to see all the brilliant work of real artists and here they were stood looking at Martha and praising her as if she were a prize winning picture. After a couple of minutes of smiling and chatting they waved us goodbye and went on to look at other things, but I was still left feeling all warm and humbled inside that I’d managed to make someone else smile. I love that.

When I was a teenager I once had a man stop me in the supermarket when I was on holiday and tell me that he “hoped his granddaughter ended up like me” because they’d just found out she was disabled and they didn’t know if she’d ever be able to walk. At the time I felt really awkward and mumbled something about the doctors telling my parents I might be able to walk around the supermarket at best so never to give up. At the time I felt guilty because I felt like I should have been able to do or say something more. It is only now I’m older that I see I probably did far more than I had realised. If this happened to me tomorrow I’d handle it better. I’d feel proud that I managed to give someone I’d never met before some hope, even if it was just for a moment. I’d feel happy that he’d had the courage to pay me the compliment. I’d like to think that he went home and gave his family hope too. It is moments like this that make me feel very humble and very grateful. That day I made a stranger smile. That day, the same stranger made me smile too.

The ups and downs of clothes shopping

If there’s one activity that can almost be classed as physical exercise that I love it’s shopping, especially for clothes. I love wondering idly around the racks with Martha looking for the latest edition to my wardrobe, or at least I do most of the time…

Clothes shopping for me has its massive sets of ups and downs. In the ‘yay’ column I get new things that make me feel good about myself and know that I’m doing something that will help me keep fit (kind of). Then there is the ‘not-so-yay’ column which boasts a lot more elements: I have to spend money (boo), find something that fits, and battle with the changing rooms. Ugh.

For those of you who don’t know already, I’m really quite tiny.  I’m 4ft 9” . This makes finding jeans that fit an absolute nightmare. If I want to buy any that fit me properly in the leg I usually have to ones for an age 11 child because even ones from the petite section are way too long. However, I am not an 11-year-old, I am a 22 year-old woman who just happens to have hips that this size of clothing doesn’t always cater for. Thankfully, I have quite a small body frame in general, so the ones for a 12 year-old will often fit around my waist, but then they have to be taken up and then I have to find some that don’t look miles too young for me. Do you see the problem?

Tops, t-shirts, skirts and dresses are simple enough because I can buy those in smaller adult sizes, but I’m lucky enough that I can still get these from the teenager section too if I want –yay for cheaper clothes!

Then, if all that wasn’t enough to take into consideration, I have to try and go to places where I can try the stuff on at home and return it if it doesn’t fit because most store changing rooms and I just don’t get on. I know that more and more places are getting disabled changing rooms installed, many of them don’t have the facilities that I personally need. Lots of the ones that I’ve been in (when I’ve had no other choice so I’ll admit I don’t use them very often) are wider to accommodate a wheelchair or walking aid and a lot of the have a seat (bonus), but the ones I have seen don’t always have handrails. Even though I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, if one doesn’t have a handrail I don’t feel safe enough to get changed by myself given how good I am at falling over. This means I have to take my mum in with me to hold me up. So by the time you have squashed, me, my walking frame, and my Mum into the cubicle there’s not very much move to move around, which when you have problems moving in the first place, isn’t a good thing.

So, now that I think about it, I really don’t know why I like shopping so much. Maybe I just like the challenge of finding something that fits? Hmmm…

I love simple things

Today I’m in a good mood. I’ve just found out I have a job interview next week, I got past the Candy Crush Saga level I was stuck on, I’m listening to You Me At Six and I’ve just had tea. Yes, today is a day for appreciating the little things in life, so that is exactly what I’m going to do. Starting with the really simple mug that means I can carry drinks around the house by myself.

There’s no point in me even trying to deny it. Anyone who knows me will tell how much I love tea. My boyfriend often compares me to a character from the video game The Sims, except he says that instead of having ‘fun’ and ‘social’ moodlets I have one for tea and one for how much sunlight I get because I’m “solar power and tea fuelled”. His words, not mine.

My Thermos Mug
My Thermos Mug

For a long time, having a cuppa was a source of frustration for me as well as enjoyment, and of course hydration. I could make myself a drink (and anyone else who wanted one if I was feeling generous) as long as I didn’t fill the kettle up too much and make it too heavy in one go. But there was a catch: I had to stand in the kitchen to drink it. I couldn’t carry them anywhere because my CP means I have to have a walking aid or something to hold on to to help me keep my balance. This means I can’t carry any liquid in any sort of cup that doesn’t have a lid without bathing myself in it because I can’t concentrate on keeping me and the drink upright at the same time. Really not a good idea where boiling water is concerned. With anything cold I carry it in a bottle, but this doesn’t work with tea. I would go and sit down to wait for it to cool, go and take a few sips, go do something then come back and take a few more. This would be repeated until the mug was empty. Needless to say I ended up giving up on, or forgetting about more of them than I actually finished. This, to a self-confessed tea addict is a very bad thing.

Then, I finally discovered thermal cups, like the one I’ve included a photo of here. The lids mean I can usually take it from room to room without slopping it everywhere (just a waste of perfectly good tea, if you ask me) or scolding myself as long as I hold onto something for support with the other hand and go really slowly. I also have  to make sure there are lots to places I can put it down on safely in case I feel like I’m going to take a tumble on the way to my seat. No brew is worth that. I even have more than one so I can be lazy when it comes to the washing up. (Not that I would ever do that, obviously). So I’m happy and my mum’s happy because she gets out of kettle duty every once in a while and doesn’t have to carry mine all over the house for me as often as she used to. I’ve gained so much extra independence all for the sake of a couple of pounds.

Obviously, these might not be something that everyone can use, and I know that what works for me might not work for everyone else. I’m not a medical professional so I can’t give advice on wheather this is something that would work for others or not, and I can only talk about my personal experience about how they work for me alone.

 

The story of a girl and her wheelchair

Do you remember how I said in my first post that some days were better than others and that I sometimes need to use a wheelchair? I think if I had left the house yesterday I would have taken that with me and given Martha a day off. I knew before I even got out of bed in the morning that it was going to be one of my more awkward days when the Cerebral Palsy likes to remind me that I’m not Super Woman, but still, it wasn’t the worst.

Getting up on a Monday is always tough for anyone, but the first thing I noticed yesterday when I made the leap of faith out from under the duvet other than my usual urge to answer a call of nature was the knot of pain behind my left knee. I could tell as soon as I started walking on it that this knot was settling itself in for day so I popped the heating on (I seize up when cold) and took myself back to bed (any old excuse will do). I hoped that warming myself back up would make it go away. I was wrong. My back then decided to join in with the protest and starting aching like it usually does when I spend too long lying down and demanded that I move around. My leg, and by this point, my hip objected to this greatly. In the end I decided to give up, get up and heat myself up and wheat bag while the lot of them battled it out to see which one of them could irritate me most. I’m still not sure who won.

Although I’ve had my walking frame for as long as I can remember, I didn’t get my first wheelchair until I was 11. I refused up until that point. I can remember being in nursery school and vowing that I would never let myself have one. I even used to try sneak out into the playground without my walking frame sometimes. I never managed it obviously but excitement I got from knowing that I could try and be outside without it made the thought of a telling off afterwards worthwhile.  Yes, I am the first to admit I was a very mischievous little madam with no sense of danger back then. If I had managed it, in truth I would have probably burst into tears when the teacher and caught me, but I still like to think it would have been worth it.  I used to get up to these kinds of antics at home too when I’d launch missions to get upstairs without anyone noticing. We didn’t have handrails then so I wasn’t allowed. I’d usually only make it halfway up before I got stopped but one time I made it all the way to the top and managed to get into my Mum and Dad’s room. I was delighted and started started to look for a place to hide and surprise them later, only to be scooped up and carried back to the living room by Mum much to my disappointment.

Despite all my protests I knew deep down that when I started high school it probably wouldn’t be acceptable to take my major buggy with me anymore.

I was surprised to find that I didn’t regret my choice as much as I thought I would at the time. The chair (otherwise known as Louise) and I have had some fun times too. I still get the giggles when I think about the time one of her wheels came off while my boyfriend was pushing me down a hill (It’s okay – I wasn’t hurt so you can laugh if you want) and I decorate her in tinsel at Christmas time. It took me a long time for me to realise that getting her wasn’t a sign of deterioration like I thought it was, but a practical decision and I am proud that I managed to stop being stubborn long enough to see that.

Physiotherapy through my ages

Given that my Cerebral Palsy makes my muscles tighter than they should be I’m supposed to do a fair amount of physiotherapy to keep the stiffness at bay as much as possible.

It’s more than fair to say that my exercise regime and I have had an ever-changing relationship throughout my life. We’ve gone from loving each other to being arch enemies and back again more times than I would like to count. When I was a kid, it was the best thing ever. Most of what I needed to do could be done through playing. My appointments at the hospital felt to me like they consisted of climbing around on a big squishy play area, making things out of play-dough and the odd bit of stretching, but the pineapple juice and biscuits I got at the end more than made up for the last part.

Then, I started Primary School and realised that because I was in a mainstream school that none of my friends had to the boring stretch-y stuff, they only had to do all the playing parts so I refused to do them unless my parents made them more fun.

My mum spent hours making obstacle courses for me to run with a slide and a pot of bubbles at the end, and my dad would run them with me. I’d always win though because he was too big for the slide, but we’d share the bubbles anyway.

Being a 90s-kid I collected beanie babies and my very first one, a white and brown dog called Dippy, would be in charge of counting how many of the dull exercises I did each time by sitting in Mum’s hand. Dad and I did jigsaw puzzles and played hours of Polly Pocket to improve my fine-motor skills and give my left hand some you-will-do-what-I-tell-you training.

By the time I hit my teenage years this kind of magic wore off and I just plain refused to do any. This is something that I still regret to this day because I can’t help but think of how I could be even better than I am now if I’d put all the effort I put in these days while I was still growing.

When I was a kid I had a physio come out to see me once a week but now that I’m grown up and boring I only see someone  whenever I get enough pain to feel like I need it. I look forward to these times of year even if there is usually a fair bit of discomfort that comes with it. Now that I’m old enough to know how lucky I am to still get access to this service I try to grab the chance with both hands, even if the grip with my left one is a bit suck-y. I’m at this stage again (the culprit this time is my left knee). I now have a new list of things to do I don’t mind it because at least I know that I’m still trying to help myself keep walking for that bit longer every time I do. The tasks may not be as fun anymore, but, as far as I’m concerned, you’re never too old for juice and biscuits after all your hard work.