Tag: independence

THE TROUBLE WITH GEORGE

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Having my old tatty kitchen amazingly transformed into a beautiful, new and modern kitchen with units and a gas hob I can reach has meant I can use it independently of my carers. I’ve got a lovely, new electric oven (I have to get used to the temperatures as I’ve only had gas before). I’ve truly found freedom. At first, the novelty of washing-up at my low-level sink seemed attractive! Now I’m not so sure about that bit, but, nevertheless, I’m determined to not to rely solely on my carers, and I thoroughly enjoy cooking.

The next home-improvement project was my patio with a ramp. The word ‘patio‘ is in italics because it is actually built on the base of my newish forget-me-not blue garden shed – see my earlier post which you can find here … MY FORGET-ME-NOT SHED. The poor unfortunate hut became redundant (which is another story!), and was sold for a small sum to a primary school whose sports shed had been burnt down in a horrible arson attack. By rights, I should now be able to get up my ramp, accessing it through the front door, down the side of the house and through the gate – a bit of a long way round, but functional nevertheless. I’d be able to eat, drink and sunbathe up there if I wanted to whenever the weather is good and I have the time.

There is one big hiccup to this story. GEORGE!! Just when I was savouring the prospect of getting a nice suntan (with sun-factor 50 cream), and entertaining guests out there in the sunshine, George (my electric wheelchair for those of you who aren’t yet acquainted) decided to develop a fault. He sits, stubbornly staring at the ramp and refuses to summon up enough energy to climb it. He’s meant to travel at 8mph (no idea what that is in km), but in fact, he’s probably only going at about a fraction-of-a-mile an hour. No good! I imagine it’s the equivalent of an accelerator in a car going – or rather, not going. All this fantastic progress going forward; first the kitchen and new-found independence; and then the patio; and now? Now – my usual trustworthy lump of metal (sorry, George) frustratingly refuses to get up the ramp and embarrassingly slides backwards. I’m going nowhere fast.

Roll on Monday when the mobility repair company come out, and hopefully, give George the kiss-of-life, no doubt at a sizeable cost to me. Needs must.

WORKING OUT

woman-lifting-free-weights-in-fitness-gym-assembly

(photo credit – http://www.fineartamerica.com)

 

Well … I’ve made a decision [round of applause, please]. I’ve decided, after living much of my adult life in a wheelchair and needing carers, that I’m going to get myself fit. I’m going to get fit in my city’s main gym – working out – [yes, me, little Ellie, working out – you heard right]. My brilliant idea is that maybe – just maybe – I would be able to manage a bit more independently without having to rely on carers so much.  I am very serious about it, and it would be amazing to achieve this.

Having made this great pledge to myself, I set off for the sports centre for the first time today.  I bought my ticket and a membership card and wheeled through the turnstile, along with an unexpected and very excited party of primary school children who were waiting to go into the pool for their swimming lesson.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect as I entered the door to the gym. I was wasn’t entirely surprised to find there were a few keen, male bodybuilders and one or two rather muscular, female weightlifters, all of which looked like they had popped a few steroids before they’d come out! However, I wasn’t particularly concerned [‘each to their own’, I thought].

I slid quietly passed them, trying not to look too conspicuous in my pair of blue jeans, a tee-shirt and a purple and white sweatshirt (which I couldn’t get changed out of without the help of a carer who I didn’t have with me). Compared to everyone else in their smart sports gear, I did, indeed, look conspicuous. I pulled off the sweater and bravely bared my arms in a vain attempt to fit the image a little more. I failed, miserably, but was nevertheless determined to get started – onwards and upwards!

One of the instructors met me a few minutes later, and having assessed me gave me a print out of the exercises I needed to do. I was keen to begin my workout. I didn’t know the names of half the equipment, but I managed to locate the weights and thought I’d start with them. I picked up the 2 kg dumbbell, and my arm plummeted towards the gym floor … I’d better start with a lighter one, I decided, and then chose the ½ kg weight. That was better although I felt a bit pathetic attempting to raise my arm above my head with what looked like a pencil with two blunt ends. I managed two lots of ten lifts with each arm altogether which was a fair start.

I gradually worked my way through my programme and finished after an hour, feeling suitably proud of myself. I felt really good and had thoroughly enjoyed it. I refilled my water bottle, went out into the caféteria area and treated myself to a vitamin-packed mango, spinach, kale and celery smoothie which was delicious despite the fact that it looked the same colour and consistency of the green sludge that floats across the top of my garden pond from time-to-time. Trust me … it was lovely.

I eagerly finished that up and left the sports centre absolutely buzzing with endorphins, and now, I can’t wait to go again on Tuesday. I’m so excited by the prospect of possibly being able to manage with less care, so achieving more independence. The sun was shining, warm on my back on the journey home and I must have looked a bit daft as I wheeled along with a smile on my face like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland!

woman in wheelchair exercise equipment

(photo credit – http://www.nchpad.org)

 

 

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BOSOM PALS AND ACQUAINTANCES

girl alone black and white

Suddenly, the stark realisation that I don’t have a best friend in the world hit me like a bolt of lightning from the sky. Not only do I not have a best friend but sadder still, I don’t think I have truly ever had a real, best buddy.

I have many social relationships and acquaintances – college friends, church friends, Facebook friends, blogging friends, neighbours, work colleagues, family members, and no doubt many people who I have not mentioned here, but none of these would I class as my bosom pal.

This realisation hits hard as I can’t help but wonder why this is. Is there something about me that no-one is telling me? Perhaps, I do have green ears and a purple tail (as one of my blogs was entitled a couple of years ago). Is there is something about me that I can’t see but others can?

As far as I know, I am a nice person (whatever ‘nice’ is). I don’t deliberately lie, nor cheat or steal. I am trustworthy. I like to go out of my way to be kind to people and to try not to hurt anyone purposely – not simply because it’s the right thing to do (in my eyes), but because that is how I genuinely feel. ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’, I always say. I’m also a great believer in ‘Praise where praise is due’and ‘Kindness costs nothing’.

I was the same at both primary and grammar school. I never had friends, even then. I used to spend break-times sitting on a wall, wistfully watching while the other children playing, or when I was a bit older, I’d stand like a wallflower on the perimeter of the playground, too shy to go up to anyone in the vain hope that someone might spot me and even consider me as a friend. Maybe, it was because I was very small (and quiet) for my age so I got bullied quite a lot. I just didn’t to seem to gel with my peers.

As I grew up and when my children were little in Nursery or the early years of school, I plucked up the courage to exchange a few words to a few of the mums also waiting outside to pick their children up. However, I think I was thought of as a bit of a leper once my ex-husband left, leaving me with the children who were still young then. It just wasn’t the done thing back in the 80’s (showing my age!). I think I was, at that time, the only single-parent family in the whole of the Infants.

When my children were at secondary school, I had to work my socks off, caring and cleaning for elderly people – anything to make ends meet. Fortunately, I’ve always enjoyed the company of older people and I did like my work. Some of the clients I’d go to would let me bring the children during the holidays. Tom and Clare treated it like an outing as we’d go armed with colouring books, jigsaws and Snap or Ludo which they all enjoyed playing together and which, invariably, my clients would let the children win.

So, I think with me, and ‘friends’ or even acquaintances, it’s a case of you win some you lose some and even the ‘some’ are often like ships that pass in the night. But, am I lonely? No, actually, I’m not. I like my independence (all be it that I need Carers twice a day) and I do generally enjoy my own company and having time to read, study and write etc. I get to choose what I want to eat and what I don’t want, I get to decide whether to watch TV or listen to music. The majority of the time I get to choose when to venture into town or further afield with George (my wheelchair) and best of all, I get to hog the duvet without any arguments 🙂

 

 

 

 

GETTING ON WITH MY LIFE (RANT)

mental and physical health

Why does everything have to be a battle? I think, sometimes, the world revolves around money, [as well as politics, religion and small-minded people who think they have a right to take innocent lives, but in the light of the very recent killings in Orlando, I don’t intend to go into that here].

On a much more personal (and perhaps selfish) note, I have spent the last three months fighting for funding to allow me to keep the basic disability care that I need every day. I appreciate that I am very fortunate to have any care at all when there are so many people without care, both in developed countries and even more so in third-world countries. You may ask why I don’t provide fully for myself financially – the answer being that I am not able to work because I am studying – and that is in order to get back to some useful work. I only wish I had a wealthy or affluent partner or family on tap but that is not the case.

Currently, the Social Care Department are now arguing with me as to whether I need my electric wheelchair as opposed to a manual one.  They are prepared to supply me with a standard wheelchair which, yes, would get me about in my home with some assistance needed but would be hopeless if I wanted to have more than an indoor or very limited lifestyle.

There would be no more getting into the town for food and shopping as well as going to University, where I am studying  for a degree in Psychology and Public Health so that I can go out [ironically, in my electric wheelchair] and operate both economically and productively in society. Other necessary journeys would also be curtailed and therefore, out of the question. Don’t they get it? My wheelchair is my legs. I feel it would make far more sense if I were able to live a life outside of my home where I can function, independently, realistically and be able to earn enough to enable me to buy my own electric wheelchair which would solve the problem altogether.

Can’t they see how short-sighted they are? If I can’t remain as independent as I currently am, it is very likely to impact on my mental health. I could require more care from mental health resources which would, in turn, affect my physical health. This would lessen my chances of returning to work. This would be more of a drain on the Government Health Department and cost them much more in the long term.

My mental health, that is my Emotional Intensity Disorder (EID), also known as Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is no secret from them, nor my friends and family or indeed my WordPress followers. It is a day-to-day struggle just to stay on an even keel as things are now and attempt to support myself. I live my life positively in general, and I wish for that status quo to remain. However, it does affect my life in a big way but, I neither feel sorry for myself nor expect the world to be handed to me on a plate. When it comes down to it, I just want to live a fulfilling and useful life and be of much use to my friends, family, society in general and the world as possible.

Currently, I now feel physically and mentally exhausted. Is it selfish, at this point, to say that, yes, I do also want to be as happy and content as I can possibly be for myself too?

Rant over.

BESIDE THE SEASIDE :)

Smile1 (1)

Well, I do have to say that I am feeling really good and that makes a change so make the most of it because I sure am! 🙂

Today, I feel great, and yesterday I felt great too. Yesterday was fantastic – I had such a brilliant time. I went with a group of people I’m involved with, on the train, all the way to Clacton-on-Sea (which is a little seaside town on the south-east coast of the UK). It takes about one hour on the train. Now, bearing in mind, I’m a recovering agoraphobic, this was quite amazing for me! It was a day full of ‘firsts’ too…it was the first time I’d seen the sea for about five years! Better than that…it was the first time I’d been on a train in about fifteen or so years!! Incredible!

I felt safe with this group of friends which helped, especially safe with ‘Carol’ who’d organized the whole thing (thanks Carol although you don’t read my blog!). It was my first trip out of my home-town in my new powered wheelchair…Oh, thank the Lord, I didn’t have to be pushed in my old manual wheelchair! How I hate that, always. It make me feel helpless whereas my electric wheelchair makes me feel empowered. The train journey was ‘a piece of cake’ as we say here…meaning ‘easy-peasy’. (Now I’m showing off!).

Once we’d arrived at the seafront, I was as free as a bird. I paired up with another girl, also in an electric wheelchair and we bombed it up the promenade, looking at all the little kiosks selling ‘kiss me quick hats’, beachballs, buckets and spades, blow-up dinghies and the like. Some of them sold food too. We sailed past one stretch and I said to L, “what was that gorgeous smell?”. She replied “doughnuts” and they were cooked while you wait. So, another first, a freshly cooked, hot ring doughnut covered in sugar that it’s impossible not to get all round your mouth! Yummy!

More zooming about (carefully dodging pedestrians, of course!) until it was lunchtime. We decided to stop at another kiosk and had coffee, and, for the first time (again), I had a fresh hotdog in a bun, complete with fried onions and ketchup and God knows how many calories! Oh, and chips! And did I care about my ‘diet’; did I heck! I thoroughly enjoyed it. So did L – she had the same.

After a while we met up with the rest of the group, found ourselves a little café to get coffee. But did I stop at that? Nope! I spied an ice-cream stall close-by and before I knew it, I found myself sitting with a strawberry Cornetto in my hand; another first. I don’t usually ‘allow’ myself ice-cream so that was also a first of sorts.

I had a fantastic time and the journey back was good too and I think, for once, I had a smile glued permanently on to my face all day long! I’m already planning when I can do it all again! It completely took me away from all my problems, heartaches, pain etc, etc…which did me a power of good because today, I’m still feeling the ‘feel-good factor’ and still smiling. Oh, what it is to have my independence! I wouldn’t exchange it ‘for all the tea in China’. (I don’t know if you have these quaint little sayings overseas, that I have been littering my chit-chat with?). If not, I can ‘translate’ at a reasonable fee!

Traditional, corny old British song (excuse the pathetic animations), coming up!

POTHOLES AND JELLY BEANS

Now I’ve got my new electric wheelchair (long-awaited and much appreciated….Thanks, Mum x), I’ve got my independence back after so many years! Although I still need care three times a day to eat, shower, dress etc, I can now get out by myself…freedom! Look out world, here I come!! 

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My first trip out was to the local shops, mostly the Co-Op store. I got there without running anyone over and without getting a speeding ticket! Mind you, I do have an ‘L Plate’ tied to the back of my chair….genuinely…and I need it! I very naughtily, rewarded myself with a box of McVities Jaffa Cakes knowing full well that i would scoff them all…yes, all twelve in one sitting! What a piggy!!

I really must stop referring to it as ‘my electric chair’ as that conjures up awful images of the prisoner’s demise. (I don’t wish to offend anyone in the USA or wherever this practice is carried out). I’m supposed to use the term ‘my powerchair’ but somehow that just seems far too pretentious and grandiose for a little bod like me! So, I must remember to say ‘my electric wheelchair’ which is a bit of a mouthful.

Anyway, back to my travels… I’ve been to church in it which was a bit of a disaster as the person behind me couldn’t see through my headrest so I got a friend to remove it as it is superfluous to me anyway as I’m such a shortass! That seemed to be more acceptable amongst the pews. i was going to stay for coffee but there were so many children running out in front of me, that I chose to leave early as opposed to being responsible for runing little toes over! The journey home was fairly uneventful until I had to go down a lane that was just full of potholes! I thought my wheelchair was going to topple over because the ground was so uneven that I got shaken up like a jar of jelly beans.

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Will I do it again? Yes…I’ve got to get used to it if I want my freedom (and I do so love it really). So, it’s off to church again on Sunday to see how many people I can bump into…I get five points for a policeman, ten points for a traffic warden, twenty points for a vicar and fifty points for a nun!