Chapter 7 - Space

Tears in her eyes when I met her outside the church where she attends KYB meetings. She had phoned me while I was still at the Cottage "Can you come? I can't get out of the chair". By the time I arrived she was pushing her walker to the footpath. "Fortunately a woman and her daughter were able to assist me. The rest were too old with problems of their own to help me. The seats are those terrible plastic stackable things and we were seated in a circle around a coffee table - it was a barrier; and the chair lacked arms to support me to get up". The rest of us have no knowledge of the everyday circumstances that are terrifying for the disabled.

For quite sometime now she has avoided crowded places, a trend in her behavior. Ages since we last went to the movies or a theatre. When her mother was alive the two of them took much pleasure inspecting clothes at "Millers" outlets. No longer, especially the shop in our local town. "The clothes racks are too close together, too crowded for me". Even shopping at our re-furbished Coles supermarket with its wider isles is daunting. The other afternoon she was tempted to enter K-Mart but changed her mind because it was too crowded. Crowded restaurants are a nightmare; sardined customers seated on lightweight chairs at rickety tables are horror to her. We sometimes go to our local club at quiet times, although not often.

Last night about 21:00 she needed to walk. I procrastinated until the end of a programme about a local lad who had run foul of the "thought police" for associating with high level bad chaps in Afghanistan. She walked quite briskly on my arm for most of the circuit of the village, although by the time we returned to our front door she was dragging her feet a little. No where near as badly as she did after we entered the house though. She commented about it. Once in a confined space she shuffles. This was news to me. A development. We may re-arrange her sewing room for more open space. In the past few months she has done very little work on her embroidery machine. Perhaps a layout unlike a pilot's cockpit may encourage her.

A phone call after we returned home this morning from KYB "Were you having one of your attacks this morning? I saw you walking so well last night!" That's just the way it is, dear. Now you know a little of what the brave faces on the disabled can keep hidden from view.