A symbol of liberation

The Fox came back from his Carers' course yesterday. Apparently, at one point, he was asked whether I was permanently confined to a wheelchair. Now this is a phrasing that really gets to me, as he well knows. I am not, & never have been "confined" be a wheelchair. For me, a wheelchair is a source of liberation. Without it, I would never go out. I would never have visited so much of the world - no trips to France, Australia, Canada, Italy, Netherlands, not even to London, Harrogate or Edinburgh in Britain. I would never get to church, the Pub, the shops, the surgery, the dentist, optician etc. I would never have met so many people who have become my friends & given me so much love & support.

I remember well the visit which decided me a wheelchair was now a necessity. We visited the gardens at Grayrigg, in Cumbria. The garden is well laid out with loads of benches scattered around. I must have sat gratefully on every one of the seats. It became an endurance test as I hobbled from one seat to the next. On the way home, we stopped at a nearby pub for a bit of refreshment. By then I was in so much pain it had spoilt the whole visit. What is more, the pain continued at that high pitch for a couple of weeks after. Never again I thought. Next time I saw the GP I asked about a wheelchair, & have never regretted it.

When the Social Worker came the other week to assess us for some respite vouchers, she was surprised, & pleased, to hear that I not only have a wheelchair, but I regularly go out in it. So many of her clients are so ashamed of the wheelchair, feel so horribly embarrassed, that they won't go out in it & use it except for essential medical trips. Maybe it's just that I was still in my late 30s/early 40s when I first got a wheelchair, too young to spend the rest of my life shut up inside or in such intense pain.

The Fox pointed all this out to the assembled group.

So here's to the wheelchair, a symbol of liberation.