Tag: disability

My problems with summer clothes

The UK is still enjoying lovely warm weather which has given me the perfect excuse to break out my summer wardrobe of dresses and skirts that I’m usually just too cold to wear. You would think that I’d find these things easier to buy and put on, right?

Wrong.

I have loads of pretty ones in loads of colours and patterns, but I have to be quite choosy about which ones I buy. I’ve written before about the problems that I have when I have to shop for clothes and shoes at the best of times, but I have my fair share of issues with summery garments too.

Lots of women’s dresses come with zips. I don’t usually have a problem with the ones that come on coats and jackets, (usually being the word), but when it comes to dresses and cute vest tops its’ a whole other story. They’re often on the left side of things which happens to be the same side as my weak hand. Guess what this means? I can’t often can’t do them up without help, or manipulate my arm well enough to get it through the straps. Needless to say that I usually go and smile sweetly at my mum or little sister at this point so they can help me into it. For reasons unknown I can usually get back out of them on my own, which is better than nothing I suppose. Thankfully I haven’t had to go to sleep in something until there’s someone around I trust enough to help me if I get stuck inside something, but I just know it’s going to happen one day if I ever live on my own…

As for zippers on the back of stuff – forget it. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve had to help my able-bodied friends with these though so I don’t feel too bad about that one. I usually try and go for things that I can step in/out of or that go over my head as much as possible.

Then once I’ve had to navigate my way through those, there is the issue of tights. Given how cold my feet pretty much always are, I always have to wear at least one pair. I struggle with socks on a good day, so you can imagine how many times I’ve fallen over/ripped pairs/sworn trying to deal with these things. Once, I went through three pairs trying to find some that I hadn’t already laddered, I was nearly in tears with effort but I got there in the end.

I love my summer wardrobe, it’s just a shame it doesn’t love me back.

Martha update

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a blog about my Nimbo Frame Martha being in need so some TLC after her seat became quite stiff and she developed a squeak.

I haven’t really used her since then because following that post we had a lot of rain and then I wasn’t very well so I gave her a couple of weeks much-needed rest and used my wheelchair for a while.

My Nimbo Frame Martha
My Nimbo Frame Martha

Now that we are have loads of glorious sunshine here in the UK, I asked my mum to get out the WD40 so that I could see if that made her any better and it did! Her seat now goes up and down without too much trouble and she’s stopped squealing whenever we go uphill.

I just thought you’d all like to know.

With a little help from my sister

I get lots of help from my parents when it comes to living with my Cerebral Palsy, but I get a lot of help from my younger sister too.

Sophie is a lot younger than me, she’s 12 to be exact, although if you ask her she’ll be quick to point out that she’s almost 13 and nearly a teenager. We love each other dearly, and she already towers over (much to everyone’s amusement but mine) so we all say that she is my ‘big little sister’.

From being really young she’s always been keen to pitch in and help me. I remember when she was about 3 or 4 I had a cold and a really bad sore throat that made me sound quite hoarse. I didn’t really think anything of it when she wondered into the kitchen to get some water but when she came back in she put it in my hand said “I got you this for your throat Niccy.” My heart melted a little bit.

She used to like trying to help push my wheelchair too, but that always scared me because she found it hard to go in a straight line and often bumped into things. I wasn’t very nice about and it wouldn’t let her push most of the time, which I feel really bad about now, but I was a moody teenager.

These days though she still helps just as much by carrying things up and down the stairs and helping me get my shoes on and off. She pretends to moan about it sometimes but I don’t think she minds, not really. I try make it up to her when I can by taking her to the cinema, doing face masks letting her practice hair and make-up on me (she wants to do theatrical make-up when she’s older).

I wasn’t going to write this post because I thought she’d get embarrassed, but she was the one who told me to do it. She even said that I could write whatever I wanted about her. As much as I’d love to wind her up in all the ways that big sister’s always do to their younger siblings, my blog isn’t really the right place for that so instead I’ll just say that I love her millions and do really appreciate everything that she does for me, sometimes without me even having to ask.

The simple joys of summer

As you’ve probably guessed by now, I love the summer. The light nights, the walks with friends and the ocassional BBQ, I enjoy it all. More than anything though, I look forward to the warmth.

I’ve spoken before of how much harder I find it hard to move in the cold, and how my circulation (especially my feet) can get quite badly effected. They’re often black or grey and it’s not very pleasent as I quite often get pins and needles. So, whatever the wheather you’ll usually find me in thick socks. Well, dear readers I just wanted to write a quick post to share with you one of my most simple, but greatest joys of the season.

The other night I woke up in the middle of the night feeling far too hot, only to find that when I removed my socks (yes I keep them on for bed) my feet were a wonderful shade of pink!

Even my boyfriend was amazed.

They  stayed that way while I had a wonder around to cool off a bit, which never normally happens! It wore off in the morning though, but, hey, I’ll take what I can get.

 

The coffee table challenge

One of my stand-out memories of physiotherapy as a kid will always be the time that I had to walk across a coffee table independently. There was a point to it; it was so that I could get my agility badge at Brownies.

I remember being so surprised when I found out there was an adapted version for disabled people that the minute I came across it in my badge book with my grandma I decided that that would be the one that I wanted to earn next.

My heart sank when I saw that the above task was one of the things that I would have to do if I were to get it. The idea of having to walk on something that was raised about the ground with no one holding my hand really scared me (still does, if I’m honest) but mum insisted that it would be worth it.

We had a word with my physio at the time (who had to do the assessments and sign to say that I’d done everything I should) and they agreed to help. I still remember the sinking feeling in my stomach when mum pulled the offending table into the middle of the room and told me that that was the right length for the distance that I had to go. It only got worse when they helped me climb up.

I’d like to point out that at this moment I made matters worse for myself by standing still for ages arguing the toss about why this was a bad idea – when really if I’d have just shut up and got on with it, it would have been over much faster (ahhh, hindsight). I’m pretty sure I even told the therapist involved I’d never forgive them for putting me through it. I said that more than once back then. Whoopsie.

So anyways, after what felt like a very shakey first few steps I made it all the way to the other end and felt slightly amazed that I’d actually gone through with it and not backed out. I got cuddles from mum and I even managed to pass. The brown and yellow badge took pride of place on my sash for a bit. I don’t even remember what the other tasks were now. It didn’t really matter after that.

The reason I’m posting about this I guess is because I still regard this as quite a big achievement. I was afraid of doing something, but I did it anyway (and without falling over, no less!) I think that sometimes I forget to view the achievement in the little things and I don’t appreciate my success anywhere near enough. I think it’s time I started.

What have you done to make yourself proud lately?