Tag: Martha

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.

Why I prefer reading to sports

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I prefer reading to sports. I don’t know the offside rule, have no idea what the difference is between Rugby League and Rugby Union, and, even though my dad likes watching Wimbledon every year, I don’t know the first thing about tennis. This isn’t because I couldn’t play sport because of my Cerebral Palsy, it’s because I’ve yet to find something I enjoy so much that I’d choose doing that over spending my Sunday afternoons curled up with a Val McDermid novel and a cup of tea.

My parents always made sure that I knew the world of sport was open to me if I wanted it to be. My dad even sat me down and made me watch the athletics at the 1996 Paralympics on the TV when I was just five years old to show me what I could achieve if I wanted. “I’m not saying you have to do it” he said “I just want you to know that you could”.

Over the years I have tried to get on with many sports, and well, it just hasn’t happened. I decided that I hated football on the day I tried to join in with my friends and ended up tripping over the ball and falling flat on my face. Then, there was the time I tried to serve a ball in a game of tennis and fell over with the effort, and, as I’ve said before I can’t run.

Despite that, I do quite enjoy the odd game of cricket that my family used to play on holiday. I just sit in my wheelchair (it’s safer that way, trust me) and whack the ball as hard as I can to score as many runs as possible without moving until someone catches me out. It’s not the conventional way of playing but it’s my way nonetheless and I quite like that.

People often ask me if I’ve ever taken part in wheelchair basketball and the answer is no, I haven’t. The idea just doesn’t interest me (and I’m terrified of being hit in the face with the ball, truth be told) but I’d happily try any sport that caught my eye at least once. The hard part isn’t me trying something out, it’s selling the idea to me in a way that gets my attention in the first place that’s possibly the most difficult bit.

I do enjoy exercise; I just prefer the things that you don’t do in a team, so the only person I have to push and compete with is myself. I loved using the gym in high school and at university, I love going out for walks with Martha, and I can always be found on the dance floor at parties in my walking frame or wheelchair moving along to the music in any way I can. I even quite enjoy swimming even though I’m not very good. That, and I like being able to jump around in the water in a way that I can’t on land.

In the end though, I much prefer to leap into the world of a good book. I love being nosey at the other world’s that writers have created in their own head, I enjoy reading stories that I can relate to, be they fiction or none fiction, and I truly admire the way that a writer can make you feel so much emotion without ever having met you. For me, it’s hard for me to imagine loving any sport over the magic of a book, Cerebral Palsy or no Cerebral Palsy.

The Betsy Chronicles

Betsy and I at my graduation
Betsy and I at my graduation

Before my blue Nimbo Frame Martha came into my life, there was Betsy. She was my silver Kaye Walker. I promised you all that I’d tell you all her story one day and now that day has finally arrived.  If you’re a bit confused and want to find out why I choose to name my walking aids, you can check out this post here. If you want to just hear more about my old one Betsy then grab some snacks, pull up a chair and I’ll tell you.

As I’ve said before, she was given to me the day before Christmas Eve in 2011 and went into retirement last month. Usually these frames last longer than that but she was given to me second hand. I didn’t mind. I got a new frame when I needed it and that was all that mattered to me. I was in my final year at university by this point was making an effort to do as much walking as possible so I made sure we had some good times before we had to go our separate ways.

I like to think of Betsy as my frame of firsts. She came with me on lots of work experience placements, was there on the first day of work at my last job and came with me when I got the bus by myself for the first time. This last one didn’t go so well. It’s safe to say that catching the bus alone is not my strong point, but that’s a story for another time.

Oh, and she will always have a special place in my heart for being the frame that I used to get across the stage at my university graduation, which for me was the most symbolical moment  of my life so far.  It was the moment that me, my family and endless physios and doctors had been working towards all my life to date. People said I wouldn’t, people said I couldn’t and others thought I was just too lazy and would rely on my folks to do it all for me forever, so I upped-sticks, moved away  and went on an adventure to prove them all wrong. In that moment, I knew I’d made it. We all made it, and Betsy was there every step (or should that be roll) of the way. For that, I will love her forever.

My new Nimbo Frame Martha
My new Nimbo Frame Martha

There are a few ways that the Kaye Walker differed from my new frame Martha, aside from the fact that she was silver and not blue. My Kaye Walker didn’t have a seat on the back. This meant that I couldn’t always sit down as much as I would have liked, but it also made the frame a lot lighter than my current one. It meant that my arms didn’t get as tired when I was using it (guess this means I should probably work out more, huh?) and that it was easier to lift it up and down kurbs, and for me to deal with every time I got the front wheel stuck in a pot hole (this happened more times that I would care to admit).

It also means that the frame is less compact and takes uo more room in the car  but it was all still worth it in my eyes. Like I’ve said before I can now take rest breaks as and when I need them, sit down if I need to take notes when carrying out interview and I’m guaranteed to have somewhere to sit. To me it’s totally worth it even if it does mean I have to grow some muscle and buy less shopping on my trips out. In the end it’s probably better for my body and (my bank balance) anyway.

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.