Wheelistically @ Claire.NU

The Bit WIth The 2011 Mayfly…

Claire — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 21:57:18 +0000

Following on from The Mayfly Project that I took part in last year and the year before:

2011

Graduated; developed a taste for teaching. May: filled with nightmares. Offbeat wedding planner extraordinaire and Auntie to little Jake. Stronger; braver; even more determined.

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The Bit Where I Adapted [Part I]…

Claire — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 16:08:26 +0000

Accessibility at The Little Downstairs House

The Little Downstairs House is in fact, a bungalow; a dwelling where all the living-space is on the ground-floor. There are no stairs and no first-floor, their is no “upstairs” to speak of, only a “downstairs” — hence my home’s nickname. Living in a bungalow when you need wheelchair access is a major plus point, obviously.

In addition to its lack of stairs, The Little Downstairs House also boasts:

Level access thresholds ¹
Low level electrical switchboard ²
Low level thermostatic heating and boiler controls ²
Low level light switches ¹
High level power outlets ¹
Level patio area and reasonably flat lawns both in the front and rear gardens

Adaptions

Wet Room

When we moved into The Little Downstairs House a little over two years ago, there were no accessible bathing facilities. The bathroom was small and made all the more pokey by the over-sized ceramic bath suite, circa 1970s, that inhabited it. It took twelve months, a Disabled Facilities Grant and a Bathing Assessment conducted by Adult Social Care, but eventually with the assistance of my Landlord and sub-contractors, the bathroom was gutted and rennovated. In its place is now a wet room with level access shower.

Manual Window Openers

For the mostpart, standard windows are designed to be opened and closed by people who are of average height and able to stand; I am neither of those things. Consequently, I couldn’t reach to open or close any of the windows inside my home. Following an assessment by an Occupational Therapist, my landlord agreed to fund and install manual window openers throughout; I can now open and close the windows using a crank handle located in each room.

Aids

Water Wheels

One of my most vital aids: without them, I could not use the shower in my wet room. “Water Wheels” refers to the manual wheelchair that I use in the shower: this Manual Shower Wheelchair by Chiltern. This piece of equipment is on permanent loan to me from my County Council’s Equipment Services; when it falls into disrepair, the Equipment Services are also responsible for any repair/replacement, upon recommendation from an Occupational Therapist.

Remote-Controlled Power Outlets

Although the power outlets are at an easier-to-reach height, pesky things like furniture tend to have a nasty habit of obscuring access to them, especially when your home is “cosy” like mine and you are not spoilt for choice as to which was the sofa runs across; in my case it’s the only wall across which it fits, of course — regardless of the fact a double-oulet is smack in the middle of said wall. The solution? Remote control plugs. These plugs act like a middle-man between the appliance and the power socket and allow you to switch the power to the appliance on and off via a little, handy remote control. Isn’t technology marvelous? I have numerous sets of these throughout The Little Downstairs House and relish the ability to switch of a lamp at the opposite end of the room without even needing to get out of bed.

Grabby Sticks

Grabber, graspers, reachers, helping hands, litter pickers, “Grabby Sticks”; whatever you call them, their uses are numerous, if not always obvious. From hanging clothes on a rail to drawing curtains and retrieving objects fallen out of either reach or sight, these little blighters have become indespensible and I now have several stationed strategically about the place.

Gardening

To make taking care of the garden a possibility for me, my family helped build a series of raised flower beds from wooden sleepers (a grant given by the Gardening for the Disabled Trust paid for the materials). To tend the beds, I use a variety of “accessible” gardening tools (also paid for by the Trust), which are designed for gardeners with reduced hand/arm control and “seated stature”. Both the NRG range by Radius and the EasiGrip range by PETA UK are ideal.

Coming in Part II: Wheelchairs, attachments and accessories…

These were existing adaptions in place, prior to us moving in. [back]
These adaptions were made by our landlord, at our request, once we had moved in. [back]

Featured Photo: Birthdays & Bowties…

Claire — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 15:43:54 +0000

Today, our handsome boy celebrates his fourth birthday.

Ziggy,

This past year, you’ve been brave: You’ve gained a new playmate and companion in possibly the most mischievous Whippet that ever lived. Although Hector’s arrival has spawned quite a few more grey hairs (both yours and mine), you have gradually welcomed him into the ranks.

There were times where we thought we’d made a mistake; that you couldn’t cope with another dog. Your anxieties and lack of social skills saw you revert to “kennel behaviour”, for a while you became confused and was unsure of your place in the pack: whether to challenge us for the top, or sink to Omega with your tail between your legs and your belly in the air.

Over time and with our help, you now recognise your place with us. Where once you growled and bolted in fear, when having your space invaded, you now will let Hector curl up next to you, pressed against your body for warmth and (so long as he doesn’t fidget too much) you will share your bed without flinching. You greet Hector with a wag and he stands patiently as you slink alongside him, your nose probing beneath him to identify his scent. Satisfied then, that this is your companion, you will then merrily trot along, scent-marking over the top of Hector’s “offerings” (and sometimes, even over the top of Hector!) and, with enough persistence on Hector’s part, will be goaded into a game of chase.

I will never tire of watching you run. Nothing is more exhilarating to me than the thunder of your paws pounding the ground beneath us as you belt passed. The double-suspension gallop, characteristic of your breed, creates the illusion that you’re swimming across the earth; with each millisecond you are suspended momentarily in mid-air: all four paws leaving the ground not just once, but twice with each stride.

No matter where we take you, be it a piece of fenced-off farmer’s land or an enclosed playing field, whenever someone catches a glimpse of you run, they stop in their tracks and do a double-take. At full-speed, you are a formidable force and in close quarters, an impressive (and sometimes intimidating) sight.

You are never as happy as when you are off-lead and running at full tilt. Your back is arched, your thick neck outstretched and narrow, pointy head kept low, hulking your muscular shoulders round as they propel you forward. Your lips, bearing the brunt of the air resistance peel back under the sheer force to show your teeth to their full extent; it’s this that gives people the (ultimately misappropriated) impression that your kind is snarling, aggressive or ferocious in nature.

Whereas, people who know Greyhounds? All we see is you smiling. Grinning that big houndy grin of yours as you do exactly what you were bred to do: Run, run like you just can’t get there quick enough; Running for the sheer joy of running.

Ziggy: The Birthday Boy

Happy Birthday, “Big Zig” — may your day be full of treats, big runs, gentle walks and good sniffs.
Love,
Your Doggy-Mummies and your little “brother”, Hector.

Photo Friday: Little

Claire — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 14:43:36 +0000

This week’s Photo Friday challenge is: Little.

These “little piggies” belong to the newest member of our family: our nephew, Jake.

Born (naturally) on the 7th September, 2011 — he weighed 7lbs 9ozs and has been growing like a weed ever since.

Little Piggies

Jake is gorgeous and meeting him for the first time was a profound and emotional experience: here was this new little person I had never before seen and yet, he was so familiar; I recognised him as being “one of us” straight away. He is the image of his mother, whilst traces of his father flicker occasionally across his face, depending upon his expression.

I couldn’t be more proud of my brave, baby sister; her and her partner have given the world such a beautiful new little boy for us all to look after.

And, I’m determined to rock this “Auntie” thing like it’s my job.

Photo Friday: My Baby

Claire — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 17:51:00 +0000

To ease me back into this blogging lark, I’ve taken up Photo Friday, once again.

This week’s Photo Friday challenge is: My Baby.

Twelve months since he arrived at The Little Downstairs House, Hector — with his characteristic wonky ears, cheesy paws and a big, wet, sniffy nose — is still very much my baby.

There’s so many sides to Hector, the variation and colourings of his markings, not to mention, all of his individual personality quirks: from his bravery as he boldly explores unfamiliar territory to his sensitivity as he bolts from the vacuum cleaner and takes refuge, quivering, under my wheelchair. There’s no other dog quite like Hector.

Just one photo could never encapsulate all that makes up my little Sighthound, my best friend, my Bubba.

And so, I give you Hector in triptych form…

Hector Triptych

Featured Photo: Checkmate?

Claire — Sat, 17 Sep 2011 18:43:00 +0000

We interrupt the scheduled silence with a rather overdue announcement:

K and I are getting married. Finally. After over a decade together, we have set the date, booked the venue and bought the dresses. I couldn’t be happier, or more excited.

I’m currently really enjoying planning the Big Day (although I’m sure that will change as the date draws nearer) and eight months from now, I will be Mrs M!

Checkmate?

[A Sneak-Peek of our wedding “theme” — taken at our venue.]

The Bit With The Walking Wounded…

Claire — Wed, 25 May 2011 13:57:06 +0000

I wish I could elaborate more on this past couple of months; this past post. Alas, I cannot. Just know that whilst K and I are still here, still living, breathing and doing our best to enjoy life, the hands dealt to us will always render us walking wounded.

I hope that one day in the future, I can use my blog and the medium of the written word, which I have found to be so cathartic in the past, to exorcise the evil that currently lurks within our midst; within our family. Until then, Caïna awaits…

In Other News…

Just over a fortnight ago, Ziggy and Hector were playing and chasing each-other in the garden, when suddenly, it all went terribly wrong.

Ziggy had trotted out into the back garden, rapidly followed by Hector — nothing unusual there, Hector follows Ziggy everywhere. I heard a flurry of activity: the gallop of houndy paws, a playful growl, a yelp and then, another yelp, followed by silence. Deafening silence.

The next few minutes swim about my head. K carried Hector in from the garden, he lay on the kitchen floor, trembling, panting, his responsiveness slow and sluggish. His heart was pounding and his gums were white as he gradually descended into a state of Shock.

Literally skinned alive, Hector’s right flank lay gory and exposed, his muscles pale and smooth like a large fillets of chicken. Blood flooded the cavity and ebbed out of my dog, my little mate, my baby, my Bubba. K dressed the wound, binding Hector’s chest tight with Vetwrap to act as a tourniquet and stem the flow of blood. Calm in the face of a crisis, K applied pressure to the wound to reduce the bleeding, whilst I fumbled with my phone for the number of the Emergency Vet. My hands shook so badly, I misdialled several times and then proceeded to babble in a panic-stricken fashion to the receptionist on the other end of the line.

My dog, he’s been attacked. There’s blood, he’s bleeding, we can’t stop him bleeding, he’s not moving — We’re on our way, it’s ok I know where you are… He’s a Whippet. We’re bringing him now, ok?

At this point, the receptionist started reeling off some “small-print”-esque blurb about how by bringing him in, I accept and agree to blah, blah, X-hundred pound admittance fees and something something emergency hours charges.

And, all I could think was: I don’t care. Charge what you like, there’s a huge hole in my dog, a big chunk of my puppy is missing. Please, just help fix my dog. My poor dog, my Bubba. My broken, bleeding Bubba-Boy.

Frustrated and upset, I interrupted — reassuring the Jobsworth that I had both credit cards and pet insurance — and then, hung up.

At the Emergency Vet clinic, the wound was in such a state that the surgeon couldn’t say at that point whether any organs or muscles had been punctured, so Hector was kept overnight with the view of operating the next day, once they’d been able to see how much tissue could be saved/had died off. But, if he took a turn for the worse due to organ problems/bleeding, they would have to operate during the night.

At first, when faced with horror-show scenes, we assumed the worst and thought Ziggy had actually bitten Hector.

Ziggy attacked Hector. Hector’s in for surgery. They’re my world & the closest thing I have to children. The shock & devastation is unreal.

May 6, 2011 10:41 pm via Twitter for iPhone ReplyRetweetFavorite

@_claire

Claire

I spent the next five hours sobbing uncontrollably, facing the thought of losing both my dogs. Shock can do awful things to an animal and Hector, being so young and a Whippet, was vulnerable to anaesthetic. What if he didn’t make it? Also, if Ziggy had attacked Hector in aggression, then it meant he was dangerous. It meant that he could no longer be trusted with Hector and he may even be a risk to small children. No matter how much we loved Ziggy, we just couldn’t keep a dangerous dog: between us, K and I have a little niece and now, two nephews on the way, it just wasn’t an option. Ziggy would have to go back to kennel life.

We were utterly heart-broken.

K wept into Ziggy’s soft ears, telling him how he was her “Mr. Zigmund”. We couldn’t bear the thought of him returning to a drafty kennel and eating his food whilst stood out in the rain, as he had done during his life prior to finding a “Forever Home”. And now that we knew he had wheat-gluten allergies and had to be on a special diet, would the kennel staff keep an eye on what he ate, or notice when his allergy made his skin flare up? Would they know that certain close human contact made him nervous, or that he was frightened of electrical cable? Would they know the particular way he loved to have his ears rubbed, or that he gave really good Paw? Would they know that he was such a Good Boy, with his quiet, gentle ways that always put people at ease, despite his large size?

It just didn’t make sense. Ziggy’s a gentle giant: huge, black and towering — and scared of his own shadow. He’s silent and sensitive — delicate even — slinking around the house with soft eyes, sad ears and an unassuming presence. It just didn’t fit. Hector’s injuries didn’t match up with who we knew Ziggy to be. We talked around and around into the early hours and by morning, were no closer to a resolution.

According to the vet, Hector had a steady night, although he was in an awful lot of pain, on lots of painkillers and had to have some blood from the blood bank. By morning, the (emergency) vet was really pleased with how the wound was looking and now that the bleeding had subsided and it had been fully cleaned up, it became apparent that there was no organ or muscle damage. In fact, the vet said that there was no sign of a bite, no puncture wounds, just large skin tearing.

This confirmed what we cobbled together through both what had been witnessed and what we knew about our dogs: There was no aggression/confrontation on either dog’s part, just a game of chase that went horribly, horribly wrong. Ziggy got competitive and nipped at Hector’s fur. Hector turned away, his body going in one direction, his skin in another. Our greyhound and whippet pairing were running at such a speed that Hector’s tissue-thin skin just gave way — Ziggy had had no idea what had happened and was still trying to tackle/wrestle even when Hector was laying injured.

Relieved, we collected Hector from the emergency vet to take him to our regular vet practise . I expected K to carry out my stricken pup the same way she’d scooped him up and ran out to the car with him the night before. Instead, he trotted along on his lead sporting copious amount of blue Vetrap and when I open the car door, he wagged his tail and leapt up to greet me, his sore, but happy self.

Our regular vet concurred with everything the emergency guy had said and when we asked where this put Ziggy in the scheme of things, she reassured us that as they were not fighting and there was no conflict, it was simply a sad accident, which had resulted in a very common houndy injury. She said that had they have been different breeds, it simply wouldn’t have happened, the injury was just greatly exacerbated by thin houndy skin and the sheer speed at which, they’d been going.

Twas a game gone horribly wrong. Hector’s been transferred to our regular vet for surgery. No organ/muscle damage,“just” a huge skin tear.

May 7, 2011 12:23 pm via Twitter for iPhone ReplyRetweetFavorite

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Claire

Hector was taken in for surgery, he had two layers of stitches and some of the residual skin “flap” had to be sacrificed as the blood supply to it was too damaged to save it. Upon Hector’s return home, both dogs bounded towards each-other, full of bounce, waggy tails and hello sniffs, as if nothing had ever happened. The sense of relief was overwhelming. Hector was woozy from the anaesthetic and we encouraged him to lay quietly as he had a tendency to fall off his feet, Bless him. He had a week of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories/painkillers and would have his dressings changed the following week and his stitches out in just over a fortnight.

Hector, at Home

Hector has since had his stitches removed and is healing well. The vets did a marvelous job in putting Hector back together again, the original wound spanned several inches across in both height and width — I had visions of my Bubba looking like a patchwork quilt, but the resulting scar will be surprisingly minimal compared to the bloody, gore-fest that we were faced with that Friday night. His skin on that side is pulled a little taught for the time-being, but luckily, what with him being only 10 months old, he still had a bit of “growing room” left in his skin, so there was enough for the vet to work with, despite having to sacrifice a large “flap”.

Franken-Bubba: Hector, Post-surgery

Most importantly, both dogs are in one piece and are getting on just as well, if not better, than they did before the accident. The scar will eventually “fur-over”, but in many ways, it suits Hector and sums up his brave, rough-and-tumble character. We’ve made some small adjustments, to try and minimise the risk of an accident like that occurring again (which I aim to cover in a future post), but rest-assured when I say that re-homing either of them is not the right course of action for us or them.

I love my dogs and I’m determined to do what’s right for them. They are both “rescues” and both deserve a chance of working things out and learning how to live in a “forever home”, we just need to do a bit more to make sure they get through the learning process safely.

Together in the Garden

My hounds are my world, I wouldn’t be without them.

The Bit With Caïna…

Claire — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 21:20:18 +0000

Caïna: The First Ring in the Ninth Circle of Hell, according to Dante’s Inferno.

Caïna is reserved for traitors to their kin; the sinners stand in a frozen lake as clear as glass — Cocytus. Paralysed in grim terror with the ice up to their necks, their heads are downturned and their teeth chatter with the cold.

Dante encounters twins that are bound together, having killed eachother in life. One of the brothers is deaf having lost his ears to frostbite. When they cry, their tears turn to ice and freeze their eyes shut. Overcome with rage at their state, the only thing they can do is butt their heads together in anger and frustration; for all eternity.

…I hope that when he gets there, it’s cold.

“Look how thou walkest. Take Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads Of thy poor brethren.” — Canto XXXII (Painting by Gustave Dore)

Livid, as far down as where shame appears,
Were the disconsolate shades within the ice,
Setting their teeth unto the note of storks.

Each one his countenance held downward bent;
From mouth the cold, from eyes the doleful heart
Among them witness of itself procures.

When round about me somewhat I had looked,
I downward turned me, and saw two so close,
The hair upon their heads together mingled.

“Ye who so strain your breasts together, tell me,“
I said, “who are you;” and they bent their necks,
And when to me their faces they had lifted,

Their eyes, which first were only moist within,
Gushed o’er the eyelids, and the frost congealed
The tears between, and locked them up again.

Clamp never bound together wood with wood
So strongly; whereat they, like two he-goats,
Butted together, so much wrath o’ercame them.

And one, who had by reason of the cold
Lost both his ears, still with his visage downward,
Said: “Why dost thou so mirror thyself in us?

If thou desire to know who these two are,
The valley whence Bisenzio descends
Belonged to them and to their father Albert.

They from one body came, and all Caina
Thou shalt search through, and shalt not find a shade
More worthy to be fixed in gelatine;

Not he in whom were broken breast and shadow
At one and the same blow by Arthur’s hand;
Focaccia not; not he who me encumbers

So with his head I see no farther forward,
And bore the name of Sassol Mascheroni;
Well knowest thou who he was, if thou art Tuscan.

And that thou put me not to further speech,
Know that I Camicion de’ Pazzi was,
And wait Carlino to exonerate me.” ²

Gustave Dore, “Look how thou walkest. Take Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads Of thy poor brethren.” Private Collection. [http://wikigallery.org] [back]
Dante Alighieri (translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow), ‘Inferno: Canto XXXII’, The Divine Comedy. [http://www.everypoet.com/archive/poetry/dante/dante_i_32.htm]. [back]

The Bit Where I Wheeled Freely…

Claire — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 12:31:04 +0000

I had a wonderful birthday. K took some well-deserved time off from work and as my birthday treat, we went to see 127 Hours and Titanic: The Artefact Exhibition. I heartily recommend both.

As intended, I did indeed take the dogs out for a run this weekend. It was my first time using the FreeWheel™ and I have to say: it does exactly what it say on the tin. In the past, pushing in the fields has been nothing short of hard work. The front castors would get bogged in the soft ground and even the smallest stone would cause the chair to swerve or jolt off-course. With the FreeWheel attachment, pushing was easier, the ride smoother and ultimately safer over rough terrain and I never once felt off-balance or like I was going to tip. And, despite being wickedly unfit, I managed to double the distance I’d previously covered, which was entirely down to the FreeWheel’s impact on the effectiveness of each push.

As promised, here’s a video of our walk. Please bear in mind that I am just a beginner at this FreeWheel lark and am hideously unfit, so I’m not going terribly fast. At all. But, I did manage a few “no-hands” moments.

Oh, and watch out for a few houndy tricks, too…

This video is dedicated to everyone that donated to the Wheelistically Free Wheel Appeal.

The Bit With The Good Samaritan…

Claire — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 20:47:45 +0000

A few weeks ago, I read this heart-rendering story of a Good Samaritan. It stuck in my head and later on, I remember recounting it to K, as we traded stories about our day. I enthused at how amazing this story was, to think that the one small token of kindness from a stranger can go on to have such a profound effect on a person’s life and future world view.

Through the course of the following day and weeks; the hum-drum of day-to-day life; the washing, chores, working and writing, the story disappeared from my mind and I thought little more of it.

Until last week.

Last week, in a serendipitous twist, I encountered my very own Good Samaritan. Coincidentally inspired by the follow-up article to the story I had read, my Good Samaritan felt moved to make their own gesture of good will upon seeing my appeal. They donated extremely generously, so generously in fact that just 9 days after launching my Appeal online, I was able to order a FreeWheel.

I don’t think it has quite sunk in yet — even now that the apparatus has arrived — but, nine days. NINE DAYS. None of this could have been achieved in such a short space of time without your help. Without that Good Samaritan, without each and every individual that felt moved to commit a single random act of kindness and give to a person they’ve never even met; without you, I would not be writing this post. Thank you.

Again, my thanks also go out to every person that blogged, tweeted, re-tweeted including British Comedians @RealMattLucas and @EddieIzzard, and especially to British Paralympian, Dame @Tanni_GT. (After all, it was through Tanni Grey-Thompson’s post on her Twitter page that my appeal caught the attention of my infamous Good Samaritan.)

I have been utterly floored by the response to my appeal. I never thought it would take off and gather pace in the way that it did; the kindness of strangers never failing to amaze me.

This weekend as I turn Twenty-Six years old, I plan to go out and take my dogs running in the field. I couldn’t think of a better Birthday present.