Tag: walking frame

Going Framelss

Yesterday, I did something that I hardly ever do.

I left the house without my walking frame OR my wheelchair. Get me, huh?

It’s not as impressive as it sounds really. I’d been out with my walking frame Martha at the weekend and accidently left her in the roof box of my mum’s partner’s car. That he’d just so happened to take to work with him.

Neither mum nor I realised this when we arranged to go out, but she said that it wouldn’t be too much of a problem because I could either walk around holding her hand or take my wheelchair. At this point I’m sure you’re all scratching your heads and wondering why I didn’t just take my chair right? Well, I’ll tell you.

To cut a long story short, my dear mummy hurt her shoulder quite badly a couple of months ago. Although it’s on the mend now (I think, in my non-medical, not being the one in pain, opinion) but she still has some bother with it and I was worried that her trying to get my wheelchair on and off the bus might make it worse again, which wouldn’t be good for either of us.

At first I protested that we wouldn’t go at all because I didn’t want to put too much weight on her either, then she pointed out that I could use the other one (seems so obvious now) so I gave in. On the condition that I try and do as much walking without her help as possible when were in the main shopping centre and I’d just hold her and when we were on the pavement and crossing any roads because I can’t get up and down the kurbs by myself.

It’s been so long since I walked anywhere like that without holding on to something at least it was so strange. As stupid as it sounds the shopping arcade seemed bigger than it had done in years because of all the extra space around me in Martha’s absence, and it felt a bit like I was walking around in a dream.

There were a few wobbles and Mum stayed a few steps behind me in case I decided to topple over backwards, offering advice on what to do if I felt like I was going to take a tumble. “Tuck your head in and roll” was one and “maybe I should take you to a soft-play area and push you over for practice was another. She was joking about the last one, obviously. I managed to stay on my feet. In a way, I’m glad I did it but it’s not something I fancy doing again in a hurry.

In case you’re wondering, I got Martha back in the end. I’m hoping it’ll be a while before she decides to have her next sleepover.

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.

Forever Knowing

Believe it or not, I don’t actually remember being told I have Cerebral Palsy.

My parents were told when I was diagnosed at around the age of two, so I know that there was a time when they didn’t know that I had CP, but I don’t remember a time that I didn’t.

I’m sure there must have been an occasion when Mum and Dad sat me down and explained it all to me, but try as hard as I might, I can’t remember that conversation. Oddly enough, neither can they. It’s a strange feeling sometimes, knowing that you know something really important but not really understanding where that knowledge came from in the first place. I suppose it’s a bit like being aware that you know the answer to that crossword puzzle that you’ve been trying to do for days, but you just can’t bring the solution to the front of your mind so that you can fill in the little boxes.

The thing is, I never really remember feeling different either. At school, while all the other children sat on the carpet and story time, I was allowed to sit on a special chair, and for a long time at my primary school, I was the only person there with a walking frame. I knew that none of the other children needed these things, but I didn’t feel the odd one out at all. I needed them and everyone could see why so it didn’t matter. All these things felt normal to me in my head because I’d always used them, so when I sat in my wooden chair to listen to the teacher, it felt no different to me than sitting cross-legged on the floor did to anyone else. At home, I would run down the hill outside my house playing Tag with everyone else. If anyone never asked me what was wrong with my legs, the answer would just trip off my tongue the way that telling someone my name or age would.

Maybe that’s why none of my family remember having The Talk (The CP talk that is, not the other talk. I remember that one, believe me). Maybe we didn’t actually have one at all, maybe it was just talked about so naturally in our house that the information just sank in somewhere without me really having to be told. I don’t know if this is possible – I don’t understand psychology and the brain that way.

I guess in the end it doesn’t really matter how I bacame aware of my disability. In many ways, I personally think that I’m very lucky to have always known that I have Cerebral Palsy.

My walking frame and the beach

Summer is well underway here in the UK (apparently), and slowly my Facebook Timeline is featuring more and more pictures of my friends enjoying their holidays. Some jet off to far off places and taunt me with the photos of places I’d love to go. Others stay closer home which makes me equally jealous. It has been way too long since my last one, but that’s not the point I’m going to make here. Today, I want to talk about the beach.

Sand, it seems to me, divides people into two camps: those who love nothing more than lounging on the beach all day (and why not – you’re on holiday after all), and the people like me, who can’t stand it

I dislike sand for all the obvious reasons – it gets it your shoes, sticks to your skin after you’ve been in the sea, and blocks up the plug hole when you take a shower. However, it irritates me most of all because my walking frame just doesn’t like it. Place Martha (or any of my other frames, for that matter) on the beach and they just won’t move. The wheels simply aren’t big enough to plough through the stuff, and my wheelchair isn’t much better either. My family have figured out that if they pull it backwards on two wheels then it will move, but it’s very tiring for them so I feel really guilty, especially as the beach isn’t my favourite place to be anyway.

Then I have the option of walking along the shore, but I don’t find that great either. I can do it if I have a couple of people to hold me up, but the thing about sand is that it moves underfoot so I often end up hitting the deck anyway and getting covered in the stuff.  I don’t think I need to tell you how unappealing I find that. I still think I’d dislike beaches even if I didn’t have Cerebral Palsy because I suppose you could say they’re just not my scene, but I think that just makes me even less approve of sand.

Don’t get me wrong, I have played on the beach as a kid, and have some great memories (my personal highlight was the time that a seagull decided to follow my sister). I’ve played in the sea, built sandcastles, and collected my fair share of shells but that was a long time ago. These days, I find that I’d much rather sit by the pool with a good book (or four) and do the odd bit of swimming. The irony is I’d probably get a far better workout trying to stroll along the shore, but hey ho.

Supermarket Shopping

There are times when I feel like I practically live in the supermarket. I know that I talk about it a lot in my posts, but there are times when trying to navigate the endless isles and trolleys almost reduces me to tears.

When I was at university, I had help from an outside care agency who would help me run my weekly errands, but every now and then I would run out of those odd little things like milk and bread that send you into meltdown as soon as you don’t have them in the house.

So I would grab my old Kaye Walker frame Betsy and head on out to the store. Thankfully I lived across the road from two little express branches of two big supermarket chains so at least getting there and back wasn’t too difficult.

The staff in both stores were usually pretty helpful and would offer to carry my basket of goods around the shop for me. As much as I would’ve loved to accept their help but I always had to decline. I liked to try and carry things for myself, or at least hook the basket over the side of the frame, because I didn’t want my shopping to get too heavy for me to carry home without me noticing. Sometimes, people would look a bit confused until I explained my logic and then they understood. A lot of them would still stand in the queue at the till for me when it got to the time for me to pay for things because the spaces are often narrow because of special offer displays. By that point my arms I usually so tired that I’m really grateful for the small rest before walking home again.

I always have to try and avoid using self-service checkouts no matter where I am. They get on my nerves because I often move too slowly for them and they end up asking me over and over about wanting to continue and sometimes I end up having to start all over again. I get really flustered and paranoid that everyone else in the shop will be looking at me, or waiting to use the machine.

Thankfully, while I live at home, my mum takes care of that kind of stuff at least, but I’ll always try and get a few things for her on my way home if I’m passing through town to try and help her out a bit. As much as I’m not a fan of going food shopping, I know it’s something that I should get as much practice as possible to get better at it.