Another day another hurdle - my first outing to somewhere that didn't involve medical professionals - Marks and Spencers in Fort Kinnaird - to buy foodie presents for pals. The car was relatively easy - getting a dab hand now at reversing into the passenger seat, hauling the legs in last, fumbling with the sticks and clutching my safety belt. Getting more used to the traffic - although still not comfortable. Arrive outside the shop - park in the 'pick up only point' close to the doors. Its windy and cold. My aunt rushes in to check with the store manager that its OK to park there. A few minutes later she returns - triumphant - not only can we park there but one of the store managers has arranged a wheelchair. My eyebrows raise...
The hop to the shop would be easy but for the wind - feel strangely vulnerable by the buffeting - even though I know its perfectly safe. Then navigating past the other customers I meet my wheelchair - we check the brakes - and I sit down. But where to put the basket? More triumph - this time the store manager emerges with a trolley that clips on to the front of the wheelchair - eyebrows raise further... I stick the bad leg through the front, rest it on the handy metal bar, we clip the trolley on - and we are off.
Its almost impossible to describe how it feels to be wheeled around food aisles amongst bustling Christmas shoppers - I wave my stick like a Kalashnikov to keep them away from my stripey toes - I want this over - quickly - I spot a half price bottle of champagne - don't check the label - ask my aunt to grab it (I of course can't reach). A woman smiles at me and apologises for her husband "he has dementia" she says softly as he fails to get out of the way. Anonymous baskets heavy with festive fair come dangerously close to my ears. We search for the cheese - normally this would entail a brisk trot up and down the aisles - but not in my mad contraption - another grab - this time for the continental selection - no patience even to check the price. Close in on the wild smoked salmon and finally the chocolate fruit and nuts. I want out.
The check out desk is easy - we head for the 'baskets only' line - I hand over my purchases and pay be cash - I can reach the counter and the very polite check out woman. Thank her for the free 'bag for life' (today's special) and we park up out of the way of the masses. Flip the feet of the chair back (one flies off) and then we are up and hopping across the pavement to the car. Mission accomplished - no damage to the mad leg - and some thought provoking stuff:
The hop to the shop would be easy but for the wind - feel strangely vulnerable by the buffeting - even though I know its perfectly safe. Then navigating past the other customers I meet my wheelchair - we check the brakes - and I sit down. But where to put the basket? More triumph - this time the store manager emerges with a trolley that clips on to the front of the wheelchair - eyebrows raise further... I stick the bad leg through the front, rest it on the handy metal bar, we clip the trolley on - and we are off.
Its almost impossible to describe how it feels to be wheeled around food aisles amongst bustling Christmas shoppers - I wave my stick like a Kalashnikov to keep them away from my stripey toes - I want this over - quickly - I spot a half price bottle of champagne - don't check the label - ask my aunt to grab it (I of course can't reach). A woman smiles at me and apologises for her husband "he has dementia" she says softly as he fails to get out of the way. Anonymous baskets heavy with festive fair come dangerously close to my ears. We search for the cheese - normally this would entail a brisk trot up and down the aisles - but not in my mad contraption - another grab - this time for the continental selection - no patience even to check the price. Close in on the wild smoked salmon and finally the chocolate fruit and nuts. I want out.
The check out desk is easy - we head for the 'baskets only' line - I hand over my purchases and pay be cash - I can reach the counter and the very polite check out woman. Thank her for the free 'bag for life' (today's special) and we park up out of the way of the masses. Flip the feet of the chair back (one flies off) and then we are up and hopping across the pavement to the car. Mission accomplished - no damage to the mad leg - and some thought provoking stuff:
Firstly - the Marks & Spencers staff. Five stars for helpfulness, respect and understanding. Secondly may aunt - five more stars for tenacity, steering skills and understanding (this was her first time too!). Thirdly - the other customers. Here it was more of a mixed bag. Some of them rushed past too close and didn't appear to notice me at all. Others smiled kindly and got out of the way and a minority looked at me askance. And fourthly - me. Well - the wheelchair had to be better than the crutches - there was nowhere to sit down and I could easily have been knocked over. I could not have managed on my own - couldn't have wheeled the chair or reached the goods. I felt vulnerable, anxious and almost freakish although I'm sure I actually looked like an ordinary person sitting down. I had a tiny taste of what it might be like for people with far worse conditions than me - and I hope it will leave a lasting imprint.
Back in the car I had an awfully nice text from a member of my team at work. I smiled out the window at the traffic and the rain and the bitumen. If I, with my fabulous support team, can conquer Marks & Spencers, then I can certainly venture to an afternoon movie at the cinema. Watch out Cameo - here I come!
Back in the car I had an awfully nice text from a member of my team at work. I smiled out the window at the traffic and the rain and the bitumen. If I, with my fabulous support team, can conquer Marks & Spencers, then I can certainly venture to an afternoon movie at the cinema. Watch out Cameo - here I come!
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