Tag: disability

The agony of shoe shopping

My callipers
My callipers

As I’ve said before clothes shopping is hard but shoe shopping is harder. Clothes shopping I love, shoe shopping I hate. Well, actually I take that back. I love wondering around shoe shops if I’m just doing it to pass an afternoon, but I really hate trying to find some to buy.

Most of the time, I’m supposed to wear special shoes (like the ones in this photo). As you can see they have holes in the side that my callipers slot into and insoles inside them to help me walk. Sometimes I break the rules and put on something that bought myself from a normal high street store. I don’t do this very often but if the boots or my callipers have been rubbing my feet and legs it’s just nice to have a change in pressure points. I scrape my shoes along the floor when I walk too so I wear the toes out quite quickly so when I see something in a shop that’s suitable for me and fits, I often buy in bulk for “just in case” days.

Finding something to wear is a challenge though, because there’s way more types of footwear that I’m not allowed to wear than things I can. I’ve never worn a flip-flop, slip on shoes fall off me because of the way I walk, and high heels are a no-go for so many reasons. This pretty much limits me to boots and trainers. Even then I have to find ones that offer me enough support around the ankles, don’t come off at really inappropriate times and that I can actually balance in. Oh, and then there is the small matter of shoe laces. I think it’s fair to say that when it comes to hunting out that new bit of glam for my feet I have a very specific criteria.

A lot of my friends, both disabled and able-bodied, male and female, tell me that they all too have their own set of needs and I’m not alone. Some hate stilettos, others dread buying trainers and a few hate trying to find something they can wear to work.

In my head I know that I too would probably avoid anything with a heel over an inch anyway and I personally think that flip-flops look really painful on your toes, but it’s the fact that I know I can’t wear them that makes me drool over them all the more. It’s kind of how I imagine it feels to give up chocolate.

The first pair of shoes I think I remember getting that I didn’t wear with some kind of splint that I thought was special were a pair of white and silver dolly shoes that I was allowed to get for a family wedding. Because they had elastic straps going over the top we knew they’d stay on. I was really excited and spent the whole day telling anyone who’d listen about them.

My last shoe purchase this year was back in January and they were a pair of red and black trainers. I don’t wear them often because I can’t get them on by myself and I don’t want to wear them out too quickly like I do with all my others. I may not be able to buy many pairs, but I more than make up for this with my bag collection, which is huge.

Children do the funniest things

Kids do the funniest things, don’t they?

I really admire children and the fact that they ask the questions their parents probably want to but are too afraid.

Often, when I bump into little ones in the street they’ll gaze at my walking frame in fascination, point to it and either ask me or the grown up they’re with what is and why I use it. Some of the time, the adult will tell the child to ask me for themselves when they notice that I’m grinning rather than looking irritated by their curiosity, but others get embarrassed and try and get them to walk away from me as fast as possible.

One day, much to my amusement, a toddler decided that they would use my old Kaye Walker frame Betsy as a climbing frame. If the youngster hadn’t been with an adult I would have probably been quite nervous. The adult kept trying to take the child way but he kept on coming back for another go. I just stayed very still and let them get it out of their system.  I don’t think they were old enough to know that it was wrong, and I suppose to someone who is only about two (or maybe less- I’m not good with ages)  that my walking frame probably does like a little like something that they would find in a park. It made me laugh. I’d never know a kid to do that before. The other grownup giggled nervously with me.

I’d always rather people ask me a question as long as they’re polite about the way they do it. I don’t mind people looking at the frame either. Martha is big and blue and not something a lot of people will see very often so it’s bound to catch your eye. It’s human nature especially when it comes to kids. It’s how they learn about anything in life so the issue of disability isn’t, and shouldn’t be, any different. If other adults want to know something I’m fine with that too. Chances are it won’t be the first time I’ve answered the exact same thing. How old the person is depends on what I tell them.. If it’s someone quite young who wants to know about my Cerebral Palsy I tell them that I’ve got poorly legs but don’t name my disability, and if it’s somebody older I tell them things in more detail

Once when I was very young a child walked right in front of me and asked very politely “Um, excuse me, but why have you got that?” his family looked horrified:

“Come on, it’s just like the one you’ve got a home” they scolded. I turned to them, assured them that it was okay and told him I had poorly legs. “Oh, ok then,” he said, happy enough and wondered away again. That was all it took.

Sometimes it gets a little awkward when I have to try and explain to them that being in a wheelchair isn’t as fun as it looks in their eyes , but I always try and balance it out by telling them that it comes in really handy if I’m going on a long visit so that I don’t have to try and find somewhere to sit.

Learning to ask for help

One of the hardest things for me to do when I was younger was learn to ask for help. Disabled or not we all have to ask someone to lend a hand every now and then. It can happen at any time. Whether it’s when you’re sat in class at school, the first day of your new job when you’re so nervous you’re almost too scared to move in case you knock something over, never mind ask someone to explain something again, or needing to ask directions in a new place. Okay, maybe not as many of us worry about being clumsy (like me), but I think you get my point. Admitting you’re not Superman is hard at first.  It does get better though, honest.

Earlier this week I took my walking frame Martha on her first proper trip to city. I went alone so I didn’t have my parents of any of my friends with me who are always more than willing to come to my aid. If I needed something I was going to have to either speak up or struggle.

I booked my rail assistance 24hrs in advance so that I could give staff at both of the train stations I used that day plenty of notice that I’d be around and I’d need assistance with the ramps to help get me on and off the train. Luckily I use both of these regularly, one being my local station and the other being a connecting station I used on my many trips to and from university. It also happens to be one of my favoured shopping hangouts so it’s fair to say I’m there quite often. The people who work at them both recognise me and what helps me best quite well now. A lot of the conductors know my face too, and even the driver on one of my more regular routes knows who I am the so all this is really reassuring. It’s nice to see a few friendly faces, especially if I’m nervous about my trip for whatever reason. If my plans ever change last minute they’ll always try their best to help me get earlier or later trains which is really helpful.

While I was out and about I had to smile sweetly at a few passersby and ask them to help me open the doors in the coffee shop where I had lunch, pick something up that I had dropped on the floor and couldn’t reach (told you I’m clumsy, didn’t I?) or help me put my shopping into bags at the checkout. Once upon a time I would have been too shy (not proud, but shy) to ask a stranger to do me a favour. Then, as I got older I realised that I was only asking someone to help me with small things and not to give me the moon on a stick. It took me a long time to realise that we all need help sometimes. Watching my friends all do things for each other at school and even more so when I went to uni that no one lives a truly independent life. All humans are interdependent on each other in some way. For example, that same day I spotted a lady in the supermarket asking a fellow shopper to get something down off a high shelf for her. I smiled to myself knowingly as he obliged.

It’s very rare that someone won’t help if I ask, and that’s mostly when they’re in a rush themselves so I can’t blame them. More often than not, people will do what they can and then walk away with smile on their face feeling happy that they’ve done a good turn.

Sometimes, being happy is enough

One day when I was out shopping I found myself sharing the aisle with an elderly couple. One of them spotted me trying to get passed before I needed to say excuse me:

“Just mind out,” the man said to the woman “there’s a little girl trying to get past on a walking frame,” They both stepped aside so I started to move past them, “isn’t it a shame?” the man remarked. I just smiled and nodded, not really sure how else to respond.

“But look, at least she’s happy” the woman pointed out. I scurried away so that I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. I get embarrassed sometimes when people talk about me, believe it or not.

They were right though, I am very happy. Why wouldn’t I be? I have a supportive family who love me and encourage me to push the boundaries every day.

I’ve had my Cerebral Palsy since birth and I can’t ever remember not using a walking frame of some kind, and as I’ve said before I consider myself really lucky. I accept my limitations and do my best to do as much for myself as I can. There once was a time as a kid I wished I was able-bodied, but that was a long time ago and I’ve never done it since.

My friends often ask if I’d let someone take the CP away just for a day and then things go back to the way they usually are for me. I don’t think I would. After all, I think I’d still do all the same activities I do already, but I’d probably be too busy thinking about how weird it would feel to me to enjoy it properly. As I was writing this post I sat thinking about all the things I would do and here’s what I came up with, in no particular order:

  1. Go dancing – I do this already. It may not be perfect, but not many people are. I dance anyway
  2. Cook for my family – I could technically do this now, there’d just be more options
  3. Go on rollercoasters – I’m too small to ride them anyway
  4. Run –while I’d love to go running properly and feel the wind in my face I think taking Martha to the top of a hill has the same effect. We always end up at the bottom far sooner than I intend us to be
  5. Ice Skate. I haven’t done this yet, but the man in this video proves it’s possible from a wheelchair I really should give it a go sometime.

While I can understand why people would want to take away their disabilities either for s short time or forever, personally I’m happy the way I am so I don’t feel the need to change things. For that, and so many other reasons, I do truly consider myself lucky.

The thing with laundry

When it comes to doing laundry, I have to get a little bit creative. Before I moved away from home my parents had always helped with it so it was a shock to the system when I had to do it for myself and I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d cope with it.

While I was at university I had help from an outside supportive living agency who would also assist me with my laundry, cooking, cleaning and shopping whenever I needed it so I know that it’s not something I’d ever have to  worry about too much if I ever did decide to live alone. Yet I hate to be defeated by anything (except my shoe laces – I gave up trying to tie those a long time ago) so I made the effort to find ways around washing my own clothes. I knew that I could always ask for help if it got too hard, but I wanted to be ready just in case there was ever a time I don’t have a choice, and so that I know I can do as much for myself as is physically possible.

Luckily I’d always managed to find somewhere to live where my bedroom had been on the ground floor so I didn’t have to fret about trying to get all my clothes downstairs to the washing machine because there was no way that I would have tried to carry the basket myself. Eventually I did manage to find a way around this problem though for if I ever want to give mum a hand at home where my bedroom is on the first floor and the washing machine isn’t. I have to get some plastic carrier bags (like the kind you get from the supermarket), fill them with whatever I’m planning on throwing in the washer, loop them around my wrist and go downstairs holding on to my handrails as normal. It usually takes three or four trips for me to gather a full load, but I get there in the end.

When my room was on the same floor as the kitchen at university I usually opted to do what I like to call the ‘crawl and push manoeuvre ‘ where I would get down on my knees on the floor and push whatever I had my clothes in along with me until I got them to where they needed to be. This took a while too but it was better than the alternative if I tried to carry it. When I would try to do this I would usually end up falling over (what a surprise) or I’d spill all my clothes all over the living room floor, neither of which are very good, especially not if the people you live with are around at the time and just so happen to see your unmentionables go flying across the room. My housemates were always really helpful and would help me if they were around though.

The difficulties don’t stop there. If for whatever reason I can’t use a dyer or my clothes need to be hung up on an airier before I can put them back in the wardrobe,  that takes me a fair amount of time too. I have to hold on to the airier for support while I put things onto it, which means that things often fall off again as fast as I can hang them there, so it takes ages (and a lot of mumbling to myself most of the time) to get everything to stay in place. The constant bending down to pick things up makes me quite tired too so I have to take a lot rest breaks too.

I used to use Betsy for extra drying space too if I wasn’t planning on going out anywhere. I haven’t had to do this with Martha yet, but I’m sure her time will come.