On the 11th of June this year I severely broke my leg playing cricket whilst attempting to field a ball in the deep outfield, it was a freak accident. My memories of the incident are vague but I believe that the studs on the base of my cricket boot rooted into some uneven ground whilst I was diving to stop the ball and my ankle gave way in spectacular style. I was rushed to hospital with a displaced ankle, breaks of the Tibia, Fibula, tendon tears and ligament damage of my right leg.
I can't say I feared injury playing cricket because in my mind I was certain that it would never happen to me. I was adamant and unyielding in my thoughts.
When I was all of about three days post-op following surgery to fix the bones together with titanium plates and screws I realised that transporting myself was going to be troublesome using crutches alone. Knowing that I did not have the strength or stamina to navigate to the shops on crutches or to the gym where I could maintain at least a level of upper body fitness. I was left with two alternatives, vegetating on the sofa with my leg raised or sourcing a wheelchair. I’ve always been a doer, an achiever and this injury was going to be no different.
I was refused a wheelchair from the NHS as it was felt unnecessary but it was also commented that I did not require any care to bathe or feed myself, really? Try walking hundreds of metres on crutches and then carrying shopping back to your home, walking up a flight of stairs all with only one leg allowed to ever bear any weight. I have however been very lucky, my friends and family have supported me and helped me throughout the current duration of my disablement. It does not detract from the fact that I wished to be independent, I detested having to rely on others to carry out tasks for me. I therefore sourced a wheelchair from a local charity shop.
Pride is a funny thing. I'm not the type of man who has to have every hair in place or a perfectly shaped beard before I leave the house. In fact, there was a time I could get down and dirty with the best of them, and if the job warrants it, I've never been afraid to get my hands dirty.
My first day started off at home and then proceeded to travelling into my local village centre. Initially, trying to manoeuvre on the wheelchair was difficult as I needed to ensure that I was moving in a straight line and not strafing to the left or right. Controlling both wheels to move at equal speeds with equal amounts of energy on flat ground was soon a synch but travelling on cambered ground was tricky. This is emphasised when I then travel on pavements and find myself pushing very hard on one wheel to maintain a direct route of travel and not falling down the curb and inevitably face meeting tarmac. After a few days of wheeling and practicing various challenges I had mastered it. I was a wheeler, and proud.
The first week spent in the wheelchair served to change my perspective greatly. Though there were some less than glorious moments such as the stares from strangers, the young lady who walked into my propped up leg as if I were invisible, and waiting to use the handicapped toilet as a mother and four children finally emerged from therein, I began to view the wheelchair not as confinement but as support equipment that allowed me the freedom to participate.
Without the wheelchair I could not have joined in with social events, work meetings and I would’ve sacrificed my overall recovery time without the ability to continue training.
On particular days, the wheelchair felt liberating. It eliminated some of the restriction created by crutches. It also served to open my mind so that now when I see someone in a wheelchair, I no longer am flooded with negative thoughts. Instead I am glad to see that person enabled and empowered.
I was entering a restaurant in my new usual way for a meeting, push with force and roll. I was holding the door for people leaving and I kept the door open for a lady entering after me too. I was raised to be polite, and to hold a door for an older lady. She got embarrassed.
This sparked a conversation, and was I not in a wheelchair she would have expected me to hold the door for her. I however, was wheeling. She claims that people gave her a dirty look for not helping me, for not holding the door for me, for the disabled guy. She felt very bad because of her interpretation of people’s looks. At that point, I wasn’t paying attention. I like to show off though and I know people are watching a disabled person opening a door because they presume that we can’t.
Our exchange must’ve struck a chord because later that day she called and we had a little talk. I was trying to explain to her that I won’t let people help me unless I need their help. I told her that I am trying to change the perception of able-bodied people toward wheelchair users. That I want to show what we as wheelers can do (everlasting wheelers or otherwise). What followed was interesting; I was told the polite way would be to let others help me, because persons with disabilities are second-rate people, they are inferior, deficient. I told her I am trying to change that a little bit. I was told that was I in actuality needing a wheelchair permanently, I would let people help me. I had to laugh, I told her about people in wheelchairs that I’d encountered previously. They don’t let others help them unless assistance is needed. The conversation ended shortly after that, she said that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore and that the talk depressed her.
It is depressing; no doubt about it, equality is a very fragile concept. Why is it so hard to understand that people are all equally human and deserve to be treated with dignity? Society teaches us otherwise. The words like "invalid" are all too common where I come from, language is powerful. A friend of mine uses the word "cripple" exclusively for people with disabilities, he won’t be politically correct. Wheelchair bound individuals are perceived as crippled. Not only in our bodies but in our humanity and in our dignity, so we need to let others help us so they can feel better about themselves. If they help us, perhaps they won’t feel bad about the thought they have about us.
Well, I won’t let anybody feel good. If you are embarrassed by not helping me, your embarrassment is based on your guilt, shame and pity. When you see me for who I am, you will be proud that I am independent. You will be able to look people straight in their eyes and they will see that pride there, no pity. That is the way it should be, I am merely trying to change the world, just a little.
Your argument is similar to those who raged recently about the so called benevolent sexism... Personally I hold the door open for anyone... male, female, old, young, disabled or able bodied. It's a basic politness not for making me feel self righteous. A.
ReplyDelete