Saturday 25th May - Invalid, Disabled, Paralysed

I've always been aware of the two-edged meaning of the word "invalid". I can remember those funny little three-wheeled cars that people used to drive around in. I have a feeling that they were barely road-worthy, with a horrible tendency to fall over if one drove them with verve or spirit, (qualities which "invalids" were not supposed to possess anyway). I suppose they were a lot better than what had gone before - i.e. nothing.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invalid_carriage



It was the alternative meaning of "not-valid" that I found so offensive in this context, and I would have thought that many disabled people would have taken the same view.

 

http://www.wheelpower.org.uk/WPower/index.cfm/what-we-do/our-sports-associations/

 

The 2012 Paralympics did a lot to reframe the way in which "disabled" people were viewed. 

 

The modern tendency is to focus on "ability" rather than "dis-ability", to look at what someone CAN do, rather than what they CAN'T do. We look for ways around mobility or functional problems so that horizons expand, rather than contract.

 

I have NEVER thought of my mother as being "disabled", or an "invalid" as a result of the stroke. In the hospital, they referred to her left side as being "disregarded", rather than "paralysed". This phrase caught me by surprise, but makes perfect sense. Not only that, it gives hope for the future.   

 

My understanding of what happens after a stroke is based on the real-life experiences of my friends. So I assumed, right from the very first day, that each "state" that my mother was in - semi-conscious, or confused, or suffering from cramps, or unable to sit up, or unable to stand, was temporary, and that over time she would move on to the next stage. Progress would be partly from natural healing, and partly from effort of will, partly from sheer bloody-minded determination, and partly from rehabilitation. 

 

She is much more "able" now that she was even a couple of months ago.

 

For example: her handwriting is legible and she writes letters to friends and family every week. She can read a whole novel and manipulate the pages of the book. She can sit up unsupported. She can take my father, step-by-step through cooking delicious meals. Her right hand is extraordinarily dexterous (is that a tautology?). She does her own makeup, styles her hair herself, every day. 

 

The most recent development is that she is able to lift her left knee - it takes a huge effort of will at the moment, but I am sure that it will become easier as she practises. It must be something like learning to play a difficult chord in a new piano piece - to begin with, one has no control over the notes that you are trying to play, but with patient repetition, the movements become more familiar, until eventually one can play the chord without any thought. 

 

Paralysed?

Disabled?

An invalid?

I don't think so. 

 

Let's go for

 

Disregarded left side (which seems to be coming back a bit)

Reduced mobility (which seems to be improving)

Invalid - NEVER!

 

   

 

 

Wednesday 8th August- Olympic losers

We were all given a songbook for the Olympics, created by Portsmouth Music Services. It is a cornucopia of songs covering all aspects of the Olympic games, and I taught a number of them to the children. There was one song which stood out, written by someone called Iain Gilmour, dealt with one of the most important aspects of the games; "Losers like me"

The chorus goes

"I'm not the fastest, I'm not the best.
Look past the podium, you'll find me with the rest
There will be champions, they would agree,
There'd be no winners without losers like me"

The verses give the viewpoint of an anonymous athlete, who knows that that are not in contention for any medal, but have reached the standard of taking part in the olympic games, and can hold their head up high for that achievement. If these "also-ran" athletes didn't take part, and run as best as they can, there would be no games, no winners, no medallists.

Some of the lines from the song:

"I know I beat the odds to get this far, I know that I will never be a star"

"They say that taking part is what is key, they mean that winnng isn't meant for me"

"And I will race them one and all, I will give it all I have to give, and know that I have truly lived"

Some teachers were appalled at discovering a song about "losing" in the collection. I couldn't disagree more. It is so important to "look past the podium" in all aspects of life.

Friday 27th July - Ringing the Bells!

Our church doesn't have churchbells - that is, tower bells.

But we do have handbells.

I had completely forgotten that we had arranged to meet up at 7:30 this morning for a short prayer meeting and then ring the handbells outside the church at 8:12. I was sitting in front of the television at about 7:15 (BBC Breakfast News) chomping through a bowl of muesli when the presenter started talking about the nationwide bellringing about to start.

Aaargh! I swallowed the last mouthful of cereal, finished my mug of coffee and threw some clothes on. I only live a mile or so away from church, so managed to saunter through the door with a couple of minutes to spare.

I'm dead impressed that we managed to ring a respectable peal (OK, so we didn't attempt change ringing with only a few minutes to teach everyone how to ring handbells!). They aren't very loud, so the sound didn't carry very far.

It's not about the noise - it's about being a part of something big, grand, inspiring, aspirational.