When I told my friends I was going to be writing a column, most of them guffawed...
But after the laughter faded, they said ‘oh my God, how are you going have enough material to write about?’.
I then guffawed myself and said ‘that won’t be a problem’, whilst secretly thinking oh dear, maybe they have a point.
By proxy of this column, I often think about how my life is different these days.
Pre-accident I was occasionally legless in the old-school sense but also fairly harmless. Now I am officially legless, well in terms of function at least, but I am also armless and this is a not a typo.
When you lose the use of your lower limbs you get a shiny new set of wheels but wheelchairs don’t push themselves.
Thus in order to get about my arms have become my legs, a pseudo-limb I have renamed ‘leg-arms’. No biggie you’d think, except I can’t carry anything.
Think about your daily routine, getting the Shreddies to the table, a bottle of milk and a nice freshly-brewed coffee. I bet you don’t even think about it, but this is at least three trips for me, including dicing with hot fluids. Eek.
Luckily I have a lap tray for home use but it’s not exactly convenient for outside the home.
At work, I often put files and books between my backrest and back as a filing system.
So I have fuelled-up with caffeine, moved documents around the office and now it’s home time finally – hooray!
I call via the shops but...hmm... carrier bags.... My worst enemy. Too flimsy to stay on my lap and too much to fit in a small backpack, which leaves only one option.
Yes, I do regularly wheel about with a carrier bag gripped in my teeth and it’s not pretty but it works. It also happens to be a good exercise for my core muscles. A win-win of sorts.
Yes, it is annoying to have to compensate for my leg-arms but there are ways around it – trays, bags and a good set of gnashers.
That said, you can all do one massive favour for those with leg-arms. Doors. Think about the times when your arms are full and you stand facing a closed door with no way through.
Welcome to my world. I can open doors without assistance, but there is nothing more I love than a person who can hold the doors and ease my travels.
So I guess I am saying if you see someone (aka me) with carrier bags hanging from my mouth, a take-away coffee slowly burning between my thighs staring longingly at some double doors; don’t feel too shy to ask if I need a hand – or perhaps two more arms – I’d gladly say yes.
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