Blue Badge Girl

People keep telling us that I should get a blue badge. 

We keep telling people that we don't have a car.

No car = no need to park. 

Okay, okay. We know. The badge goes with the person and not with the car. So if I got a blue badge (is blue badge supposed to be capitalized by the way) when someone gives us a lift somewhere, they'll be able to park in the specially designated places. 

And at some point I'm supposed to be learning to drive. Ha, motorists of Britain, beware. Be afraid, be very afraid. You're nightmare is coming. But don't worry, it won't be for a year or longer. 

I must admit that it was a bit weird the first time I said that the "disabled" word out loud. I mean, it's not as if we weren't aware that I'd qualify for a blue badge. I've not been able to walk completely (as in not be able to put any weight on it at all) since the end of July. But to be honest, I've been limping since April/May. By this point, we're used to the fact that one of my legs is a bit dodgy. (Although Mom does still have moments when she forgets which leg is the bad one. Mom, try the one with the bright purple cast on). 

When this happened, the first thing people said to us was, "Do you have a downstairs loo?" as if that would suddenly make everything all okay. It wouldn't, but we do understand the sentiment. And my bed's upstairs anyway, so most of my time is spent upstairs anyway. Away from the tiring energy's of my often (playfully) argumentative family. And snuggled up in the warm. It's the best place to be really. 

So, we don't have a downstairs loo. We do have a very small bathroom choc a bloc full of mobility aids though. Actually, I think they're called "Aid's for independent living" or something similar. Basically, our bathroom is a disabled loo right now. And you have to be careful on the heated towel rail, it gets hot. Yes, I know. It's a dramatic concept. (There's more equipment behind the door, and a stool that doesn't fit in the bathroom at the same time as a person, so that lives elsewhere)

My brother is not impressed with out 'disabled loo' arrangement. I think he's getting used to it though. 

And there is our shower curtain. Which is a whole half a meter away from the shower (which is behind a very posh but currently very impractical glass screen.) It's my door. I don't like it. I'm not allowed to close out bathroom door, because if I do and I fell or something, our bathroom is a size and layout that there is a 95% chance that I would be in the way of the door. So whoever had come to help me would have problems. Big problems. So I get to pull the curtain instead. Naturally, because of all this, I've never fallen once. I know, but if I did...

I miss proper privacy. 

Now those, those our mobility aids. Bad picture though. Sorry. It was one I found for the purpose of showing you a mobility aid only. It's old (about 3 months old. I've improved a minuscule). Not purpose taken. And crutches are long. It's hard to take a good picture of them.  

That's another photo of a mobility aid. It's called a wheelchair. Yeah, I know. It's pretty obvious. "Wheelchair" is now one of my phone's predictive text facilities favorite words. Along with Birmingham, nurses and chemo. Don't try and write chocolate chips. If you're not careful you can end up with chemo chemo. Especially if you're tired. Trust me. 

By the way, does any one have any spare 'L' plates I can have? Any one just passed their test? If so well done to you- now plates please? You see, I can't really push the thing by myself yet. I mean, it can be a self propelling wheelchair, it just isn't. Not for more than a couple of meters in a straight line at any rate. (Okay, I can do a bit more than that in it, but I can't use it for any practical purpose. Basically, I just need help with it.)

A family friend who want's to go into engineering says it's because of the leg extension, it makes the balance wrong. Hear that people? It's not my fault. 

It would be fine, but when we said that my parents have had the crash course in wheelchair driving, we mean it. And they weren't the ones who were doing the crashing. Mom is.... mom is.... I'll stop in the interest of being polite. She's gotten better, we'll give her that (although as my friend said, that isn't actually saying anything, considering where she started.) My Dad is okay, sometimes. His main problem is when he goes to fast, or does weird things like move you from side to side. I think he thinks it makes the ride less boring.

He just shouldn't do it. Really. 

So they could be worse drivers, but then, there have also been several incidents. Like when Mom got distracted by biscuits, heard the lift doors open, and started pushing me on a collision course with two buggies, who couldn't move out the way, because they were backed into a lift. There have actually been way too many incidents like that. 

So, learner plates anyone?