Freedom

Hello, dear reader!

Some things are worth the wait.

In fact, although the act of waiting (and waiting, and waiting) can be a soul-sapping purgatory, I’d almost (almost!) say that the act of waiting has sharpened my joy at the events of the past week.

But what are those events? I hear you cry.

Well, just two days ago, I received my brand new wheelchair!

The Long Haul
It’s only taken six months, if you count from the date of the initial assessment when my old chair was effectively declared obsolete (nine, if you go from the referral the repair guy put in). It’s a ridiculously long timescale. One the Occy Health bod I saw for the final fitting told me was down to a shrinking budget.

But it’s here, now!

And the difference is like night and day, sweet and sour, chalk and cheese, freedom and captivity, or, perhaps more fittingly, easy, forward momentum and hard bloody work that gets you absolutely nowhere.

It so nearly seemed like it wasn’t to be. Only last month I was told they had my new, super-duper, posture correcting cushion. No wheelchair, though.

Waiting Is
In my time of waiting, I’d taken to ringing Wheelchair Services on a monthly basis to enquire on progress and expected timescales with a variable amount of passive aggression. This has habitually been met with a complete lack of knowledge, followed quickly with a promise to refer the issue upwards and then radio silence.

Until last Thursday.

Yes, the day after I habitually post my blog was the time Wheelchair Services chose to ring me and tell me the chair was finally with them. I was cock-a-hoop, over the moon, in fits of ecstasy. I kissed the dog, hugged the cat, and did a little jig with the Mrs. The only trouble, I was told on returning, rather breathlessly, to the phone, was there was no-one free to handle the handover.

It’s a bit like a car, you see. You might have chosen your make and model, might have been out for a test drive, but they still need to have someone show you where the indicators are, and how to work the reversing camera (A wheelchair doesn’t have a reversing camera or indicators of course, two functions I’m told I could sorely use, but you get the point of the simile).. My high immediately soured, I unkissed the dog, unhugged the cat, and made a point of not dancing merrily with Tina.

And then the topsy-turvy rollercoaster took one more turn.

Cancel Culture

A cancellation had appeared, I was told later that same afternoon. An appointment with the wheelchair rep and an Occupational Health professional on Monday at 1pm; would I like to attend.

You’re damn right I would!

And so, with Tina busy at a work meeting, I headed off on a solo mission to Elland there to be greeted by warm smiles, a lot of apologies, and a marked preference to move the conversation away from waiting times and on to the here and the now. I sat in the new, clean, unrusted, chair, noted with glee the ease with which a single push on the wheels was rewarded with smooth movement in a more or less straight line, had the footplate adjusted for height, and then, had the wúnder cushion explained to me.

Apart from the usual foam rubber/gel mix, this new addition to my perambulation has adjustable wedges to offer a lift in certain areas. In my case, after assessing the level of my hips and the way I tend to fall slightly to my right due to my wonky skeleton, a wedge was placed under my left buttock, and a further one under my right thigh, just behind the knee. A mirror was produced to demonstrate this did indeed get me sitting straighter and taller, and after signing a couple of forms, and being directed to the feedback form which would absolutely, definitely, be read by senior management, off I popped.

Freewheeling
Tina, (that’s the aforementioned Mrs, If you hadn’t caught on) straight away, and without any prompting, confirmed I was sitting better in the new machine, and I do feel taller (if one can feel tall sitting down). So, I think the new cushion has the potential to have some good, long term benefits.

The immediate win, for me, however, is the ability to move without struggling against the aid designed to aid me in doing this. The old chair stuck. It lurched to the right at random intervals, and, in general, was like pushing a brick through treacle. Carrying a cuppa was a risk to life and limb (sometimes mine!) but the new ‘chair is smooth, responsive, and a pleasure to propel. It opens up so many avenues. I can get back to walking the dog, going out on my own, carrying hot food and drinks, and so much more. It’s freedom I’d almost forgotten about.

Until next time…

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Hey, there! If you enjoyed reading any of the above, why not take a look at some of my published work? Below you’ll find links to a number of short stories I’m lucky enough to have included in anthologies. I’d love to know what you think


New Tales Of Old


Death Ship


Pestilence: Drabbles 1


Reaperman: Drabbles 3


The Musketeers Vs Cthulhu


Eldritch Investigations