Wheelchair? or just a crutch.

Less than an hour ago I had a phone call from ‘Westmark’, they are part of the ‘Glasgow Southern General Hospital’, the call was to tell me that I had an appointment at ‘Westmark’ on Monday morning for a review of my wheelchair. My first thought was interesting, have they stopped sending letter or reading their notes? I haven’t been for a review since I got my chair so why now? As is normal the guy on the phone acted as though I firstly should have known and second he was just checking my compliance to their demand. When I told him that I was housebound and I couldn’t get to the hospital, he then with a tone I didn’t like, informed me I had had an appointment in 2010 as though that meant somehow that I was telling a lie. I pointed out to him that I didn’t go to it, any more than the ones I was offered before that. Silence hung between us for a few seconds, then I almost heard the brain click that resulted in the sudden realisation that I would need a home visit. I wasn’t n the mood by that point to go over what I was told by the nurse that phoned me 2 yrs ago when I thin I told the same guy I couldn’t get to ‘Westmark’, she called I thought to arrange a time to come here, but no, she called to tell me they don’t do house visits, but she could supply me with an ambulance to get me there and back. I declined their offer. I expect I will be going thorough the same conversation in the next few day when the nurse calls to tell me they don’t do home visits.

Those that have read my posts before already know that I can’t use my chair in the house, nor can I get out of my house, so my wheelchair is right at the bottom of my priorities. I still have it because you never know what could happen, for example of I badly cut myself on one of my juggling acts with cutlery and needed stitches, a chair would be needed then, along with help from my husband and a taxi driver, to help get me back and forward to the emergency department. Having it here gives me some peace of mind and I don’t feel quite so marooned, having the latest style doesn’t concern me at all.

The marooned situation has crossed my mind before as not being able to get out of here, could be interesting if there was a fire. They say that everyone should have and escape plan, a route and system worked out so just in case the worst happens, and you find yourself in your home with the building on fire. I had never really worried about that when I was able bodied, after all I then had as much chance of anyone else. Once out through our double storm doors into the main hall the stone stairs should allow escape, as stone doesn’t burn. My mother raised the subject with my several months ago, unusually caring for her, but my answer was and still is probably the truth of it, I would burn along with my belongings.

I know my flippant comment to my Mother was me being me, but it did make me think through the possibilities and I would suggest those who like me aren’t exactly mobile, spend a few minutes thinking it through as well. Life always brings up the unexpected and you can’t plan for everything, no matter what equipment you have or don’t have, my wheelchair won’t get me out of here any more than I would be able to take it with me, so it is just a mental crutch, knowing it is there makes me feel safer and in it’s own way even that is important. Illness isn’t always logical but neither is life, we all need those items, the silly things that we can’t let go of, in many ways that is also what my chair is, I still need it as in my mind it is my way out, my link with a world that otherwise I would feel totally cut off. I might never sit in it again, but I can’t face the idea of it not being there, just in case.