Friday 4 November 2016

From Rio With Love!

A September To Remember


It's hard to believe it, but six weeks ago I was at the Paralympic Games in Rio! Not competing of course, eleven years of confusion, blind panic and 'headless chickening' on the rugby court does not a GB player make (although the day they announce Paralympic Pudding Eating, I'll be knocking on that door, spoon firmly in hand)! No, I flew out to Rio with friends to soak up the sun, drink coconut water, sample some Brazilian beef (calm down!) and of course, take in the Paralympics live for my very first time. It was all rather exciting!

However that excitement was also masked with a certain amount of trepidation as much of the news coverage prior to the opening ceremony had focused on the monetary problems and criminal aspects of Rio: stadiums were being prematurely dismantled, public transport was being cancelled and gangs were roaming the streets, hunting down tourists to separate from their valuables. Well, if any of this was happening then I certainly didn't see it. From the moment I arrived to the moment I left, there was an overwhelmingly positive buzz in the atmosphere, the people were friendly and helpful, and the public transport was second to none, with Rio's subway system putting both London's and New York's to shame in terms of accessibility. In truth, the only time I felt remotely unsafe was when my casters were rattling over the uneven, mosaic street paving which, during our thirteen night stay, inevitably caused more than one of us to stop, drop and roll!

Not the worst view to wake up to!
As for the scenery, good grief! I could fill this entire entry waffling on about the mountains, the jungles and the ocean, all of which you needed only to step outside of your hotel to see. I spent the numerous taxi and train journeys gawping out of the windows as we passed through the city which is built into a wall of mountainous greenery the likes of which I had previously only seen on TV (often accompanied by a gyrating Peter Andre)! And the views from the top of Christ The Redeemer and Sugarloaf Mountain, jeez! Up there you can fully appreciate the scale and magnitude of the city and its surroundings. I'm not someone who normally gushes about this kind of thing, but it really was breathtaking! Let's not forget, I'm from Middlesbrough, I pull over and take a picture if I see a tree!

Bird's-Eye View!
Also, a quick word of thanks to anyone whose photos appear in this entry. Unfortunately I was unable to take any pictures myself, as the moment I arrived in my hotel room, my phone decided to commit suicide get into the Paralympic spirit by throwing itself off a ledge diving off the top board and into the toilet pool. What a way to begin proceedings!

Christ's-Eye View!

A Few Minor Hiccups


They say that bad luck comes in threes, and this certainly appeared to be true in my case, as sandwiched between my phone's untimely demise was the hotel check-in, where due to a small miscalculation on the financial side, we were greeted with a bill four times the amount we expected, and afterwards the realisation that none of our Paralympic tickets said anything about accessible seating on them. So it came to pass that our first couple of days in Rio were spent frantically organising alternate accommodation and then trekking in the glorious 35 degree heat (this is Brazil's winter!) to the CoSport office to get our tickets switched over, just the standard fun and games you come to expect when wheelers travel en masse! But once that was all sorted out it was time to let the Games begin!

Well, almost...

Active Hands No Brasil!


It would be amiss of me not to mention that the other reason I flew out to Rio was to represent Active Hands, who had won the fantastic opportunity to present their unique gripping aids at the Pitch At The Paras event. During this rather surreal day I would rub shoulders with royalty, pose with Paralympians, jostle with journalists (a Daily Telegraph reporter literally picked me up!) and later take full advantage of the free bar on offer! To read more about the event and to find out how Active Hands got on, click the link here.

The Pitch At The Paras crew alongside double gold medallist Jody Cundy!

Let The Games Begin!


As I said earlier, I had never been to a Paralympics before and so was unsure exactly what to expect from this. If BBC news was anything to go by, only 10% of tickets had been sold, so I went there half-expecting to be greeted by a deserted Olympic Park with sparsely populated stadiums and the odd bundle of tumbleweed thrown in for effect as a lone harmonica player welcomed lost visitors with a foreboding tune. However, the closer I got to the Park, the clearer it became that thankfully this would not be the case! As we rode the subway and bus, it became impossible not to notice the number of people either wearing uniforms emblazened with the Jogos Paralímpicos logo or wearing at least one item of clothing bearing one national flag or another. And then there were those who took the flag wearing a little too literally...
"Whadda ya mean you won't serve me until I put on some pants?!"
After disembarking the bus we joined the steady stream of people flowing towards the Park, crossing over the motorway by means of a temporary bridge constructed entirely out of scaffolding and hardboard that seemed to become less and less 'constructed' as the week went on! As I went through security, entered the Park for the first time and took in my surroundings, I remember thinking, "If this is 10% full then I'd hate to think where the other 90% would fit!" The place was absolutely awash with people of all nationalities, wandering around in between events, taking in the atmosphere and arenas surrounding them. There were music stages, big screens where you could watch events live as they unfolded, dozens of food and drink stands, including one solitary McDonald's which only served McFlurries (go figure?!), and of course the arenas; giant, stylish pieces of architecture, each with their own unique design and feel. However, it was Carioca Arena 1 our group was most interested in, as this was where the wheelchair rugby was taking place...

Rugby Or Not To Be...


Now, I have a confession: I'm not the most vocal or enthusiastic of supporters when it comes to watching sport, instead preferring to quietly take in a game whilst cradling my chin in one hand, my silent musings giving off the (entirely misguided) impression that I know exactly what's going on and what the next play should be. And so when the rugby began, I adopted my customary pose and prepared to muse.
"If only I had a flag to wrap round myself..."
However, it didn't take long for me to become completely invested in the games and with it, far more animated and vocal. My docile, ponderous posture faded and was replaced by all-chanting, Mexican-waving excitement! Yes, the rugby games were all as fast-paced and hard-hitting as you'd expect, with chairs and players sent flying as goal after goal was scored. Yes, it helped that I knew and had played against a number of the athletes on court. And yes, it certainly helped to have bursts of music playing throughout (although the constant playing of the chorus to Foo Fighters' "Wheels" every single time someone made an equipment call has utterly killed the song for me)! But for me, the main reason that I was so uncharacteristically energetic during the games was simply down to the infectious enthusiasm and feel-good vibes being given off by the crowd. 

There were none of the malicious chants or gestures that you see hurled around every week at football grounds, it was just non-stop cheering and singing. Of course there were rivalries on and off the court, but they were rivalries built on mutual respect that ended with smiles and handshakes. And whereas not every game was sold out, it has to be said that the Brazilian supporters certainly know how to throw a party and electrify the atmosphere! The Japanese crowd soon became fan-favourites too, continuously singing, dancing and evening spending one game creating dozens of traditional Japanese hachimaki (headbands) for the crowd to wear whilst chanting "Japão"!

A glimpse of what to expect at Tokyo 2020!
The highlight of the entire Games for me however was attending the wheelchair rugby gold medal match between Australia and USA. This wasn't just because it was a Paralympic Final with the medal ceremony immediately proceeding the game. It was because it was quite simply an unbelievable game of rugby, contested by two extremely passionate and evenly matched teams who shared a single goal: to bring home the gold. The determination, aggression and emotion in the players was clearly visible throughout; with lightning fast pace and thunderous hits reminding everyone just why this sport was initially named murderball! Goals were racked up in rapid succession by both teams, as the lead switched back and forth, with neither side able to pull away from the other. Line-ups were rotated, training ground plays were implemented and the tension kept on rising. By the end of the 4th quarter both teams were level and it took two sets of overtime before Australia finally got the break they needed and edged the USA, 59-58! Cue cheers, tears, embraces and rapturous applause as the arena exploded and Australia were crowned Paralympic Champions!
Left: An emotional Ryley Batt receives his gold medal. Right: The flags of the medal winners are hoisted to military fanfare.

A Lasting Impression


I know I've pretty much solely focused on wheelchair rugby here and you'd be entirely justified in thinking that this was the only event I saw during my time in Rio! In truth, the rugby was where my main interest lay, but I must say that I also had a great time watching track and field events at the athletics stadium as well as the triathlon, part of which handily took place outside our hotel! A big shout out to the blind football too, which I had unbelievable fun watching and wish I could have seen more of. Any game where a player responds to being fouled by gut-punching his opponent and hoping the referee hasn't spotted it is alright by me!

So that was my time in Rio; a fascinating city that has given me some amazing memories but one which I really only scraped the surface of. The Paralympics were an incredible spectacle and one which I hope to experience again in four years. My advice to anyone who visits Rio would be to do some research before going, know what it is you want out of the trip and look for the places where you are most likely to get this. There are some amazing beaches on offer, with Copacabana being the most famous and therefore most commercialised. However there are plenty of other beaches on offer if you're looking for a more traditional feel: Barra da Tijuca, Ipanema and Prainha, to name but a few. If it's nightlife you're after then Lapa is definitely the place to go, with cocktail stalls, samba clubs and trinket sellers lining the streets to create a carnival atmosphere. And be sure not to leave Brazil without first venturing into a traditional Brazilian steakhouse because, my god, the selection and quality of the meats on offer is just exquisite; I'm tearing up just thinking about it!

Upon leaving Rio, I flew to America to spend some time in New York, which in all honesty, I could write an entirely seperate blog entry on! But I won't. Instead I will sum it up thus: An endless barrage of noise, lights, tastes and smells; an absolute assault on the senses in all the best ways; and probably the quickest known route to type 2 diabetes!


G

Thursday 6 October 2016

Ungrip - A Gimpy Kid Review

New Products, New Possibilities


As I'm sure you all will know, I write this blog in conjunction with the fantastic Active Hands Company. Their gripping aids have become an essential staple in people's lives the world over who suffer from limited hand and finger function, enabling their users to achieve levels of independence and fitness that many thought out of reach. Earlier this year the company took the decision to branch out and began selecting products designed by others to stock and sell on the website alongside their own gripping aids, a detailed list and description of which can be found here. However, this list is continually being added to and in order to ensure that the products selected to be sold are going to be of most benefit and use to the Active Hands clientele, they need to be tested by people who fit the demographic of your average Active Hands user: good-looking, charismatic, charming, intelligent and with some form of limited hand and finger function. Well, I certainly tick one of those boxes!

So without further ado, here is my review of Ungrip, the grip-free way of holding your phone:

What is Ungrip?


Ungrip is a smart, easy to use device that attaches to the back of any mobile phone, instantly making it easier to hold onto and swivel round in your hand, whether you have perfect grip or no grip at all! It is available in a variety of different colours and designs and is both a gripping aid and fashion accessory for your phone!


 

How Does It Work?


The Ungrip base sticks directly to the back of your phone or case. You can then slide your choice of finger or thumb through the material loop, et voilà! Your phone is now securely attached to your hand and can be safely held at any angle whilst you text, browse the web or take photos. And if you want to take a picture or video in landscape mode then just twist the phone in your hand, it's that simple!


 

My Ungrip Experience


It's all fine and well having me describe what a product does and throw up a few snazzy images, but the most important thing to know is whether it's going to be the right product for you and how someone living with limited hand function found it. I'll be honest, when I looked at Ungrip online, I had my initial doubts. I often use my phone whilst it's flat against a surface such as a lap tray or table, and so my biggest concern was that once I'd attached this to the back of my phone it would be unsteady and rock from side to side when using it. I can happily tell you that this is not the case and with Ungrip attached my phone still remains stable and static when using it on a flat surface.

For me the biggest positive to come from Ungrip is that it has completely eradicated the potential of me dropping my phone whilst using it, a major bug bear for anyone with weakened grip who isn't fond of replacing their phone screen on a regular basis! And Ungrip is stuck to my phone so solidly that I can even use my phone in the bath without fear of it slipping through my fingers into a watery grave #firstworldproblems! I've also found that if I'm in the middle of using my phone and need to move, instead of putting my phone in my pocket, moving, then getting it out again, I can now just spin it round so that the phone is on the back on my hand, push a short distance and then just spin it back onto my palm again.

Hand modelled by yours truly!
My one bit of cautionary advice would be that, when it comes to attaching Ungrip to your phone, have someone with fully functional hands nearby! The adhesive used to bond Ungrip to your phone is extremely sticky and once it's on it's not coming off without a fight, so I'd recommend involving a helper monkey with this part! I managed to attach mine by using my teeth to remove a few protective tabs and then ever-so-carefully lining it up with the desired spot on my phone (whether you want it positioned higher up or lower down, make sure it is in the central strip).

Conclusion


So that, in a nutshell, is why I recommended Ungrip to Active Hands! It's been an extremely worthwhile and welcome addition to my mini arsenal of disability aids and one I use on a daily basis. It can be found now by searching on the Active Hands website or by simply clicking the link HERE.

G

Monday 11 July 2016

Me Before You In The Dignitas Queue

 A Series of Unfortunate Events


Well I think it's safe to say that the UK has had an eventful few weeks since my last blog entry! Chris Evans was told to leave quit Top Gear, the England football team did their usual tournament self-destruction and, in a smaller matter, the UK took it upon themselves to leave Europe (the Union not the continent!); dividing the country, sending every major political party into chaos and pulling the pin on a grenade that threatens to plunge us all into some kind of biblical armageddon! Online campaigns have been launched and protests have taken place in the capital as the disabled seek refuge indoors for fear of their chairs or crutches being used as missiles aimed at Boris and Nigel, who after spearheading the leave campaign promptly decided to bugger off! Panic has swept social media as the well-informed and uninformed alike thrust their views and opinions down the throats of all those who will listen, and god help you if you dared voice a different opinion to theirs!
But I'm not here to talk about politics or the referendum fallout, this is a disability blog dammit! And although there could indeed be disability related consequences to it all, the truth is that it will be years before the true ramifications are known, be they positive, negative or most likely, a combination of both. No, I'm here to talk about an entirely different but equally divisive event that angered many people and had whole swathes of the disabled community kicking-off, metaphorically speaking. That event being the 110 minute Dignitas promotional video: Me Before You!

In a Nutshell (Spoiler Alert)


Anyone who has read my "Love Is In The Chair" blog entry will know that I'm pretty much allergic to the OTT, super-cheesy, ultra-weepy method of portraying love and matters of the heart, with Nicholas Sparks being the main offender. And be under no illusion dear reader, this is Nicholas Sparks in everything but name, oozing sentimentality at every possible moment. However, where there would normally be a rugged badboy with a dark past or an emotionally damaged dreamboat for the (pure-as-the-driven-snow) girl to 'heal' with the power of love, in this film there's a bitter quadriplegic with a death wish! But don't worry girls, he's still total dreamy, has a British accent and is loaded with cash, phew!

The suicidal stud in question, Will, was paralysed from the neck down after being hit by a motorbike two years earlier and has since emotionally shut down, shunning his friends, losing his girlfriend and giving up his lucrative banking career, because if there's one thing we know about disabled people it's that it's impossible for them to have successful careers, no matter how sharp their minds may be...

Stephen who?! Never heard of him!
Anyway, he gets a new caregiver in the form of Louisa, a beautiful, upbeat, quirky and entirely fictional girl who lives with her family, struggles for money and goes out with Neville from Harry Potter! Will is resistant to her eternal cheeriness at first but predictably he begins to warm to her until they become friends, fall in love and live happily ever after, having several children and with Will becoming a successful mouth painter. He accepts his injury and comes to realise that the key to happiness does not solely reside in having a fully functioning body, but instead lies in surrounding oneself with family, friends and positivity, overcoming life's challenges in the process.

Except that doesn't happen.

Yes, Will and Louisa fall in love and she encourages him to embrace life, taking him on adventures at home and abroad and making it clear that she isn't phased by his disability and loves him for what's inside his wallet. Will admits to having led a shallow life before his injury and only now sees past the vain, materialistic surface he was previously trapped behind. But unconditional love, support and companionship are simply not enough for this guy, it's a 'normal' life or no life! So he follows through with his plan of going to Switzerland for assisted suicide, emotionally crushing Louisa and his parents, the end. Seriously, that's it. Oh but on the plus side, he does leave Louisa a nice chunk of inheritance, so...all's well that ends well?!
 

The Backlash


The novel of the same name, on which the film is based, came out in 2012 and, although ending identically to the film, seems largely to have gone under the radar as far as controversy is concerned. This is likely because very rarely does the release of a novel garner as much publicity as the release of a movie, especially when it has two recognisable stars in the lead roles. But I very much doubt anyone involved in the film realised quite how much publicity it would receive, and not for the quality of acting or depth of story. No, as the cast and crew were soon to find out: Hell hath no fury like a wheelchair user scorned!

So just be told will you!
As the film neared its release, more and more people became aware of it, the subject it was dealing with and it's controversial ending. By the time it premiered, the roaring debate had reached fever pitch. Disabled rights groups such as Not Dead Yet staged protests at the film's premiere, The Telegraph wrote about a variety of differing viewpoints and 11-year-old wheelchair athlete Ella French penned an extremely acerbic and witty open-letter entitled, Dear Hollywood, Why Do You Want Me Dead? A girl after my own heart!

Me Before You: Not Dead Yet - A Zombie Love Story!
The film's director, Thea Sharrock, defended the film, calling its ending "brave" and "more interesting". Whereas I may not necessarily agree with this viewpoint, I can't help but feel slightly sorry for her as she battles through the shitstorm she's found herself in the eye of. In essence all she did was make a faithful adaptation of a book. Although in one interview she uses the unfortunate phrase, "my nephew is in a wheelchair", which I can't help but find synonymous with an accused homophobe defending themselves with the classic, "I've got friends who are gay!"

My Two Cents


In all honesty, I wasn't hugely offended by Me Before You. This is largely down to the fact that I'm a heartless bastard pretty thick skinned and laid back about life so it takes a hell of an effort for anything to genuinely offend or upset me. But I can understand why others would take offence at the portrayal and message it puts across. It's a fairly shallow portrayal of life with a disability, with many of the positives and negatives either being negated completely or paid basic lip service to. It completely ignores the whole rigmarole of getting up and ready on a morning, and the whole story goes by without a single faceplant or mention of a catheter; although it does briefly address some of the more serious potential aspects of high level quadriplegia, such as septicemia, autonomic dysreflexia and pneumonia. And I couldn't help but smile at the scene when Will's casters get stuck in a muddy patch of a field and it takes three people to haul him out. We've all been there!

I think the most important thing to take into account is that this is not meant to be an informative documentary about life in a wheelchair and the supposed inner turmoil of those who occupy them. This is a trite piece of romantic fiction, a work of tragedy designed to pull on the heart strings of its audience, leaving them emotionally distraught and with completely unrealistic expectations of love. And in that basic aspect it succeeds. Hell, on occasion even I could feel my stony heart strings being unexpectedly plucked in sadistic fashion.

But in the grand scheme of things, who really cares about what a fictional character in a story chooses to do with their life?! Nobody should be watching these films for valuable pointers or life lessons and nobody of sane mind will come out of this film thinking that the characters are in any way a realistic portrayal of actual human beings. This is Hollywood, where for decades men have been stereotyped as tough action heroes, women as damsels in distress; Christian Bale can play an Egyptian, Jonny Depp can play a Native American and John Wayne can play Genghis Khan!



If you're still concerned about the negative impact of films like Me Before You then my advice would be simple: prove them wrong. Go out there, be successful, go travelling, have a family, seize every moment, live your life the way you want it and be the example and role model that others take inspiration from! There are so many disability aids suppliers, organisations and trusts out there whose main purpose is to enable people to live their lives to the fullest. In less than two months the Rio Paralympics will begin and with it, a fortnight's solid, televised coverage showing exactly what people with disabilities are capable of!

And come the end of the year, what do you think will leave the lasting mark and legacy going forward: a 110 minute work of fiction, or a 2 week global event, starring real people, achieving real feats of excellence?

G

P.S. If you're interested in watching a genuinely moving and compelling tale about a non-suicidal quadriplegic that's actually based on a true story, then I would recommend checking out the 2011 French film Intouchables aka Untouchable.

Friday 20 May 2016

Stumbles and Tumbles and Broken Bone Grumbles

Accidents happen. It's an inescapable fact and an unavoidable truth. It's not something you grow out of or learn to avoid. They will happen to you no matter who you are, no matter how much money you have and no matter what your level of ability or disability is. My injury means that I don't have the best grip in the world, and every now and then this results in a plate or bowl slipping out of my hand and smashing on the floor, going Greek as it were. Although I challenge anyone to go through life without accidentally breaking the equivolent of an entire dinner set's worth of crockery! Thankfully 9 times out of 10 what I drop is empty, however dropping a plate with an entire cooked pizza face-first, and having a jar of bolognese sauce tumble and explode onto the floor like a skydiver without a parachute, are experiences not easily forgotten! And the clean-up, dear god, don't get me started on the clean-up...

Come Dine With Me: Quadriplegic Special!
The accidents that truly separate the walkers from the wheelers however, are the ones that involve a physical impact. A young person walking in a field trips over, loses their footing and collapses in a heap; they immediately spring back up, check around to make sure no one was watching, maybe try and act cool like it was all part of an elaborate in-joke, and then be on their merry way again. Any nearby onlookers have a quick giggle to themselves and think nothing more of it. A wheelchair user hits an uneven bit of paving, their chair jolts to a halt and they're sent tumbling forwards into a heap on the floor, and it's a very different matter. There's no instantaneous chair remounting, not when your legs don't work. Instead you have to roll around and sit yourself up, then make sure you're all in one piece before using your arms to half lift/half drag yourself back to where you abandoned chair! Then it's a question of making sure your chair is upright and in one piece before contemplating how exactly you're going to get back into it. Meanwhile, a unified and audible gasp is let out by everyone within a 100 metre radius and soon a three-deep throng of concerned bystanders has encircled you and what started as merely a caster clipping a paving stone has quickly become Operation: Tip-a-Crip!

Personally, when this kind of thing happens (and it happens to the best of us), I'd much rather people crowded round me en masse than pretended I wasn't there and carried on about their business. Sure, I don't always need help when it's offered and it can be a little galling when it's given against my wishes. "Do you need a hand? Because whether you like it or not, you're getting one!" But I'm grateful to live in a society where strangers care enough about me each other to stop what they're doing and offer to help, because as monumentally embarrassing as the situation may be, the fact of the matter is simple: If people don't help then I don't get up! And it's safe to say I've taken part in my fair share of impromptu floor dives!

One such occurence took place just over four years ago on the way to the pub, when, for reasons I still can't quite grasp, I decided to put my backwheel balancing to the test and attempted to bump my way down three large, concrete steps just along from where I live. A sane person who valued their life would doubtless have tested this ability on something softer first, and with friends around to help in case it went awry. But not I, Gareth Death or Glory Herridge! It was concrete or bust! And moments later, it was my head that was bust, as I lay at the bottom of the steps, a warm liquid running down my face (steady!). Neighbours were beckoned, an ambulance was called and I was ferried to hospital to get myself glued back together.

When I tell my friends how I got the scar...
Another incident took place a couple of years ago as I was, once again, making my way to the pub (starting to notice a pattern yet?). This time however, I had rather courageously managed to make it slightly further than my own street and was cruising down the pavement at a leisurely pace, the high street beckoning. I came to a slightly uneven driveway with dropped kerbs, so slowed down and carefully manoeuvred my chair to the other side. It was at this point, whilst I was travelling at literally no speed at all, that one of my casters clipped the world's tiniest pothole, inexplicably causing me to tumble to the ground with enough drama to put a Premier League footballer to shame!


This time the driver of a car instantly pulled over and, along with another chap who was out walking his greyhound, helped me back into my chair, as I tried desperately to avoid making eye contact with the occupants of the other cars that were rumbling by, faces pressed up against the windows. Now you may have wondered why exactly I felt the need to establish what breed of dog the second man was walking? Well this was because, as we all know, greyhounds aren't exactly known as the most sluggish dogs in the world. These things can move! And unfortunately, as the dog's owner helped me off the floor, he had let go of its leash, and no sooner was I back in my chair than, like a bolt of lightning, the dog was off! Cue the owner sprinting after it whilst frantically yelling its name, as the dog shot round the corner and out of sight. Exit, pursued by a man. As bizarrely comic as this final scene was, I did feel a little guilty and sincerely hope he managed to catch-up to the dog! I'd hate to think the whole thing has made him regret being the Good Samaritan that he was.

The most recent calamity however, and the one that inspired this blog entry, happened only about 6 weeks ago and, in a shocking twist of events, actually occurred as I was on the way back from the pub! Now I know what you're all thinking: Alcohol + wheelchair - core stability = catastrophe of my own doing. And occasionally it does, but nowhere near as often as you may think. Also, before I lose all symathy here, I should point out that on this particular evening in question, I was behaving myself and had only gone out for a few social pints in the evening, so when I left the pub at around 10pm I was by no means the shambolic, rolling wreck I have been in the past! Plus I'd done the sensible thing and, instead of doing the 45 minute uphill push home, had jumped into a taxi and been dropped off in the car park a mere 50 metres from where I lived. What could possibly go wrong?!

Quite a lot as it would happen!

I failed to notice that my chair wasn't close enough to the taxi door when I transfered out. This lead to me briefly teetering on the edge of my seat, before pulling myself backwards onto it, causing my cushion to runkle up behind me in the process, and leaving me somewhat less than ideally sat. Once the taxi had left, I made my unstable way down the bank, towards the path that leads to my flat. So far, so good. However, linking the sloping bank to the footpath is a rather unforgiving (and at that time, mud spattered) dropped kerb that sits at an awkward angle, is fairly worn and as such has several differing gradients, meaning a brief backwheel balance is required to get the casters over the lip of the kerb and onto the path. Unfortunately, due to my unbalanced seating position, I didn't feel comfortable enough tipping my chair back and instead decided to simply use brute force to push my casters over the lip of the kerb and onto the path.

Monumental error!

As soon as my casters were on the lip and I pushed forward to get them onto the next bit of gradient, they spun sideways, causing my entire chair to whirl to the right. My left caster rode up the kerb and then bumped off it, jolting me forwards so that my chest was now resting on my thighs, my head was between my knees and I was facing down the bank (stop laughing). And then the unthinkable happened...

My chair began to move!

Not just a little. It began to roll; down the bank; picking up speed, and there was no realistic way I could see of halting it (I said, stop laughing)!

Like this, but with poise and grace being replaced by uncoordinated terror!


I knew full well how this ride was going to end; with me in a heap on the floor. I just prayed for it to be an unscathed heap. The concrete kerb I was veering towards at some speed, sadly had other ideas and beckoned my right caster towards it, clipping it and causing my face to bury itself into a mixture of kerb and road from almost point blank range!

Game over man, game over!

Blood quite literally exploded from my nose and continued to pour out at a somewhat alarming rate, as I lifted my head up, slightly groggy from the impact. Moments later a neighbour from across the street, who had been standing outside her front door at the time of my face plant, came rushing over with her young child. After establishing I wasn't dead but was still in need of medical attention, she phoned an ambulance as the little boy, rather than being scarred for life by all the blood, decided to chat to me about what had happened and why I was in a wheelchair, perhaps seeing some potential correlation! A few more neighbours from various houses on the street came over to check I was okay and soon there was a nice, little welcome party waiting for the ambulance to arrive from the nearby hospital. And it did arrive, three hours later!!

Three hours slumped at the side of the road, nose blooded and swollen, feeling sorry for myself as I tentatively dabbed my tender nostrils with a tissue to try and ease the thick flow of fluid (I apologise to anyone who's eating whilst reading this)! And do you know what? Pretty much every single one of those neighbours stayed out with me the entire time! As the temperature dropped and Saturday became Sunday, one of them brought me out a cushion and blanket to wrap round myself and keep warm, and another was on the phone chasing up the mythical ambulance. They stayed outside with me until 1:30am when the ambulance finally arrived (from mainland Europe I can only assume!) and the paramedics scraped me off the ground, tossed me in the back and carted me off to hospital, cleaning my face up en route so I looked slightly less like a member of an underground bareknuckle boxing ring!

The 1st rule of Disabled Fight Club is, you do not walk about Disabled Fight Club!
Anyway, to cut a long story short, once at the hospital, I was poked and prodded by various doctors and nurses of the highest calibre, given an MRI scan and found out I had, unsurprisingly, broken my nose. Fast forward to the present; the swelling and pain have mostly dissipated thankfully, although my nose is still slightly skew-whiff and in need of rhinoplasty (which I'm sure many people would agree was the case even before I broke it)!

So there you have it: a brief rundown of some, but by no means all, of the embarrassing tumbles I've taken and the overwhelmingly helpful response I've received every single time from strangers who didn't have to go out of their way to help and could just as easily have kept on walking, armed with a comical anecdote to tell their friends. And besides the odd scuff, scrape and broken nose, it's mostly just a case of injured pride more than anything else. I'm sure I'm not the only one who doesn't like to admit when they need help (I'm a man dammit!), and if it's not needed then I'll politely decline. But in those few instances where help is genuinely necessary to make life a hell of a lot easier, then you can bet I'm bloody grateful to be offered it! I mean, what's the alternative? Lying there star-fished, grinning like an idiot whilst trying to look cool?! You wouldn't catch me doing that, no sir!


G

Thursday 24 March 2016

Love Is In The Chair

As you may recall, in my last entry I went into too much great detail about how I get myself in and out of the bath unscathed, a rollercoaster ride of emotions and excitement I think we can all agree. As I wrote and published this around mid-February, I decided to sign off with a little Valentine's Day quip and thought nothing more of it. It was only a week or so later that my palm hit my face and I realised the colossal missed opportunity I had squandered: to write a blog entry addressing the subjects of love, romance and dating for someone in a wheelchair. I considered leaving it until next February but as I struggle to remember things eleven days in advance, I think remembering something eleven months in advance may be pushing it a little. I blame the knock on the head I took during the crash and, dammit, no one is going to tell me otherwise! So I'm striking whilst the iron's hot (or at the very least, tepid) and delving into dating with a disability. And to quote numerous fast food employees, "It's only a month out of date, I'm sure no one will notice..."

For the most part, I quite enjoy the process of meeting a girl and flirting with them whilst desperately trying to find the (often Dutch) courage needed to ask them out. I've actually become more confident and dare I say charismatic around girls since the accident, and as a consequence have been on far more dates since too. However, I think I'd put this more down to age and experience making me slightly less of an awkward mute around girls, rather than my spinal injury awakening a dormant Casanova in me! Although one of the first questions I remember asking in hospital after regaining full consciousness and lucidity was whether or not the *ahem* 'soldier' could still 'stand to attention' (he totally can, high five!), so I think it's safe to say that aspect of my life has always been fairly important to me!

But regardless of any physical, mental or emotional irregularities, the general consensus seems to be that dating is an absolute minefield of potential heartache and confusion, with the vast majority of people trying to blindly separate the good eggs and the keepers from the rotten apples and the bunny boilers. Films and novels often like to go to the extremes, portraying the idyllic, love at first sight, happily-ever-after side of things, or to give it its official name, the bullshit side.

Nicholas Sparks, ladies & gentlemen, bullshit peddler extraordinaire!
Television is also happy to go along with this and likes nothing more than pairing people up and squeezing the tiniest drop of romance out of every situation. The Undateables on Channel 4 combines people's obsession towards love, with their curiosity towards disability. It does this by attempting the oh-so-delicate act of portraying its participants as unique individuals who, just like everyone else, are wanting to find a kindred spirit to share their lives with, and not as desperate oddballs who will literally settle for the first person who pays them the slightest bit of attention. But every time a new specimen is thrust in front of the camera, you can practically hear the myriad of ranging viewer comments: "He/She's alright, I would!", "Poor thing", "Aw well, it's nice they found someone", "Do you think they can have sex?"

I'm certainly not above making the odd jokey comment myself and shows like this will often come up in conversation during wheelchair rugby training sessions. In fact, we've even been approached by Channel 4 to see if any of our ragtag troupe fancied going on The Undateables! Unfortunately we all declined, despite our best efforts to convince one or two of our members that it'd be in their best interests to allow their every move to be filmed and that it wouldn't at all be embarrassing to see your mum get interviewed and talk about what an amazing person you are with so much to offer that special someone and how love is the one thing missing from your life...


Recently, I've come across a number of articles to do with dating when you have a disability, all written from personal experience, with a fair few of them detailing how much harder it is to find someone when you're in a chair, that people are put off by it and don't see you in a romantic way. I suppose this is a notion I briefly entertained in the very early days of my injury, but if my experiences since are anything to go by then this isn't the case at all. I've had a number of relationships post-injury, ranging from three minutes hours all the way up to three years, and when break-ups have occurred, it's never (to my knowledge) been anything to do with the fact that I couldn't stand up to reach the top shelf in the supermarket...
"I'm sorry, but if you don't love me enough to pass me down the Uncle Ben's Wholegrain then I just can't see a future for us!" - said no one ever.
I agree that relationships would doubtless be more straightforward if I weren't paralysed, with extra planning and forethought having to always go into things such as holidays, hotels, restaurants and house hunting, but I don't believe that it has massively hindered my love life. That honour must surely go to my delightful personality!

Do I think that some prospective partners are put off by the fact I'm in a chair? Of course. I dare say there aren't too many girls out there whose idea of the perfect guy is one who is flawed by a flight of stairs and rendered immobile as soon as he ventures onto a beach! But equally, before my injury, do I think some girls were put off by my less than towering 5'8" stature, wannabe punk hair and god-only-knows fashion sense? You're damn right I do!

The lesser known Sid Vicious: Smooth Jazz album cover
I say that some prospective partners may be put off by a wheelchair or disability, but as the article Active Hands recently shared on their Facebook page goes to show, there are those to whom it has quite the opposite effect and are in fact physically drawn to people with disabilities: devotees! Now I've sadly never had the pleasure of meeting any of these wheelchair worshippers in person, however a few years ago a girl did begin talking to me on Facebook about how she was turned on by guys who had limited sensation in their legs and how she would love to see my legs on webcam! Well how could I say no to a request like that?? Quite easily as it happens, and after having as much fun as I could with the conversation, the mystery woman eventually realised I wasn't going to be her naughty, little CamCrip, and left empty-handed and heartbroken. Because some people will literally fetishise anything!

I certainly don't believe having a disability should make a person feel unattractive or put them off the idea of dating (or indeed flaunting themselves on webcams if they so wish!), and if the people I know via wheelchair rugby are anything to go by, it most certainly doesn't! At league weekends you see an ever increasing number being accompanied by their devotees husbands, wives, partners and children, and of the ones who are single, most of them are happily swiping away on Tinder, myself included!

Personally, I've never found it soul-crushingly impossible to match with and talk to people when using an app like Tinder. However, my one recommendation to any person with a disability who frequents these kind of apps/sites is, be honest! In most of my pictures, you can't tell I'm in a wheelchair, so I just look like a regular guy with a penchant for having his picture taken whilst sitting down! This meant that, if I got on with a girl well enough, I'd at some point have to have to have that conversation with her. In truth, I never received a terribly negative reaction from anyone and ended up meeting a few, but it still didn't make me feel any less awkward when dropping the W-bomb. So now I've made sure to mention it in my bio in as lighthearted a way as possible, my disability is an unavoidable part of my life that cannot be and should not be hidden. But it certainly shouldn't be my defining characteristic. And sure, some girls may be put off by it, but if they don't want to take advantage of blue badge parking, 2-for-1 gig tickets, crowds parting down the middle to let you through and several other perks of the condition, then it's their loss! Incidentally, I recently read an article by a woman who met up with a couple of guys from Tinder but didn't tell them beforehand that she was in a wheelchair and I assume thought it would be better to just wheel out and shout, "Surpriiiiiiiiiiiiiise!" when they met?! Why exactly she thought this was a good idea is beyond me, but she seemed genuinely shocked that things immediately became awkward and uncomfortable! I know I said that being in a chair shouldn't be anyone's defining characteristic, but it still needs to be factored in and processed, especially if you're meeting someone for the first time! Remember, be honest!


So there you have it, a gimps guide to disability dating...of sorts. I have a tendency to ramble in these things, but I'm sure that's gone by virtually unnoticed! Anyway, the message to take away from all this is that you should never let disability stop you from dating, if anything it should encourage you to get out there and embrace it. You've overcome so many obstacles in life already, are you really going to let the small matter of asking someone out be the thing that finally defeats you and stops you in your tracks?! Of course you're not! Be confident, be funny, be charming, be fearless! Because if god hadn't wanted disabled people to date then he wouldn't have made us so darned irresistible!

G

Monday 15 February 2016

New Year, Same Me!

I'm back, fear not, normal service has been resumed! I know I said I'd return in the new year, and it's now February, but in my defence internet pornography is not going to watch itself I've been remarkably busy with wheelchair rugby, getting my shoulder acupunctured, shooting product demo videos and also writing a sporting article for the Active Hands website, to do with the Paralympics and why people should be inspired to get active in the year ahead. Click here to check it out *nod nod, wink wink, plug plug*! I'll be honest with you, I did contemplate just copying and pasting it into here for an easy life. But after much soul searching I came to the conclusion that you lot deserve original material and so I'll do my best to entertain under my current fragile circumstances. Those being that I'm possibly coming down with a UTI and this morning I managed to somehow trap my arms and head inside a hoodie as I tried to pull it on, resulting in me falling out of my chair and into a blind heap on the floor. In all honesty, it'll be a small miracle if I make it to the end of this post without collapsing against the keyboard, my final moments being used to dramatically sign off and click 'Publish'...

 So anyway, here we are: 2016. As has been the case for over a decade now, last month saw me celebrate my special birthday. That is, the day I decided I was tired of having to continuously climb up and down stairs, park miles away from the shops and stand with the unwashed masses at gigs, no thank you sir! As my wheelchair rugby teammate's tattoo proudly states:


Ancient Wheelchair Proverb say...
 And so it came to be that on that fateful January morning in 2005, I crashed my car, broke my neck and haven't walked since...At least, not without the aid of a £90k robotic exo-skeleton, similar to Wallace and Gromit's The Wrong Trousers, but without the remote control, sinister penguin or comic caper shenanigans! So yes, I am now *drumroll* "11 years down the line", and bravo to anyone who spotted the subtle change at the top of the page! And even though I'm now firmly into my second decade of disabled debauchery, I'm still learning new ways of doing things, I'm still attempting new feats and I'm still finding out new things about myself and my injury. And so I thought, nothing remotely interesting has happened this year yet but I've got to write about something what better way of opening the first blog post of 2016, my first since turning 11, than with a wee look back over the past year to see if there were any particular challenges I'd attempted and possibly even overcome, followed by a look at what possibilities this year has in store. This may all seem somewhat self-indulgent, but rest assured there will be the usual amount of self-deprication along the way. I'm basically wanting to use myself as an example to show that no matter how long ago an injury may have taken place, you should never stop attempting things, no matter how ridiculous you may look whilst doing them! Of course, if I come to the swift realisation that last year I attempted and accomplished nothing, then this will be a rather monumental backfire on my part!

The principal thing that stands out as far as last year's endeavours go, is a prime example of attempting something whilst looking utterly ridiculous. Combine that with the fact I was completely naked whilst doing it and you have all the ingredients for a You've Been Framed post-watershed special. "But what exactly is this demi-godlike, mind over matter exploit that you performed??", I hear you ask with baited breath. Well brace yourself ladies and gentlemen, because last year I slayed my mythical dragon, I exorcised my demon, I climbed my Mount Everest...I got myself out of the bath!!



Now I'll admit, on paper this doesn't sound like the most earth-shattering of breakthroughs and, in terms of stature, levitates me only marginally above your average house spider. However, I assure you, this was very much a game changer for me, especially when it comes to being on holiday or away on rugby weekends!

Due partly to my injury level and partly to my stumpy, T-Rex arms, I am unable to lift myself from the floor, into my chair. Don't get me wrong, I can lower myself onto the floor, but this is more of a controlled fall than anything. This essentially meant that, when staying in a hotel, I couldn't use a shower cubicle (or a bath either I assumed) and so would either have to wash myself as best I could at a sink (aka, the hobo bath) or ring up hotels individually and go through the painstaking process of explaining what exactly a wet room was and whether any of their rooms were equipped with them. (If I've learnt anything over the past 11 years it's that when booking hotels, the term 'accessible room' can have a wiiiiiiide variety of meanings, ie. doors an inch wider, with spyholes a foot lower and a grab rail located at any random spot in the bathroom!) However, being able to get out of a bath eliminates almost all of those issues, making it infinitely easier when planning a trip away, because whereas very few hotels offer wet rooms, all of them offer baths!

It turns out that the secret of getting out of a bath when you can't move your legs and only have very partial tricep strength, is that you don't so much lift yourself out as pull yourself out. This begins by me draping a towel over the edge of the tub and lifting my legs over and out (as seen in Fig.1), so that my body is now squashed between the width of the tub.


Fig.1: Why you should never go to B&Q drunk!
Obviously the water has been drained by this point, my ever expanding waist doesn't make me the most buoyant of land mammals! Then I find that by hooking one arm onto my chair (which is sat patiently by the tub), and pulling myself forwards with this arm, whilst pushing against the back of the tub with the other, I can get myself off the floor of the tub and onto the edge. Now comes the tricky part! When a spinally injured male lifts out of a bathtub minus his clothes, certain...'items' will dangle! And if, once perched on the edge of the tub, he was to lose his balance and fall forwards, then what I can only imagine to be a guillotine effect would occur! Now I may be 33 and single, but I've not entirely written off the possibility of settling down and having a family one day, plus over the years I've become rather attached to my various body parts. So the possibility of 'castration by bathtub' is not something I take lightly. Thus ensues a delicate dance, gradually shuffling forwards whilst ensuring certain 'bits and bobs' remain above the danger line! Then, once I'm right on the edge of the tub and as stable as possible, one quick lift and I'm back in my chair, Gareth - 1 Bathtub - 0. Of course this is all with the proviso that I don't repeatedly lose balance and slip back into the tub...


"I can has help?"
So that was the main gain of 2015. Other than that, last year was memorable for interviews in London, travelling here and there, starting track racing, damaging my shoulder and subsequently stopping track racing. Oh and my chair and I also got hoisted up in the air in a crowd-surfing manner by four guys at a music festival, but that wasn't so much overcoming adversity as it was drunkenly agreeing to something and then immediately realising that I was one intoxicated stumble away from a hard, concrete death!

As far as 2016 is concerned, the stand-out events pencilled on the calendar so far are buying a house, going through the rigmarole of getting it adapted, and of course visiting Rio and New York in September. Littered in between these will doubtless be plenty more blog-worthy occurences, comical mishaps and things for me to grumble about!

Now if you'll excuse me, I hear the postman at the door, doubtless out of breath and struggling to carry the numerous sacks full of Valentine's Day cards and gifts sent to me by secret admirers. Yep, same story every year...


 

G