Breakfast was quite brief this morning: my PA Abdul arrived at about half seven, made my coffee and toast, helped me with my shoes and socks, did another couple of things and got on his way. Obviously, things usually take a bit longer, but today Abdul had somewhere else to get to so it was quick and efficient. Frankly, that’s fine by me: I’m now fed, caffeinated and ready for the day; after writing this I’ll get in my powerchair and set off to continue exploring the world’s greatest city. Then, this evening, I’ll get back home and wait for Abdul to arrive again to cook dinner. That’s just the way I like it.
The thing is, there was a time when this would have been unimaginable. Growing up, I tended to assume that I would always need constant help; either that or I would always live at home with my parents like a perpetual adolescent. The notion that I would one day have my own flat in South London, the ability to go in and out and roam around as I pleased, choosing what I wanted to eat and where I want to go, would have seemed absurd – even scary. The assumption was that I’d be unable to do anything without the help of my parents or an able-bodied person. Fortunately, my experience living on campus at university, then moving down to live with Lyn in 2010, put an end to that.
However, many disabled people still seem to think that way. There seems to be a residual assumption, especially among people with CP, that they need a personal assistant constantly with them, and that they wouldn’t be able to function without twelve or even twenty-four hour help. Although there is an element of ‘to each their own’ to this, frankly I fail to see how anyone can live like that. These days, I enjoy being by myself and doing my own thing: in my chair I can go where I want; if I fancy a coffee I’ll pop into Costa or Starbuck’s; when I feel like lunch I’ll grab a wrap; if I need to communicate with anyone I’ll just tap it into my Ipad. Inaccessible shops and tube stations aside, I have more or less the same abilities as any other citizen. Then, in the evenings I return home and wait for my PA to arrive to cook dinner.
I think this is a healthy way to go about things. Obviously, there will be periods when I need far more assistance: when I go abroad I naturally go with someone like John. Whereas at home I can quite easily feed myself using my Neater Eater, it would be hard to carry such equipment across places like India or Morocco. The same goes for my powerchair, which is why when I go abroad I take my manual chair, and therefore require far more support. Besides, it’s always far nicer to travel with a friend.
Here at home though, living in my own flat which I can go in and out of at will, I don’t see why I would need anyone here with me more than they currently are. If I had someone with me for eight or twelve hours a day, following me around on my trundles across the metropolis, I daresay things would soon become untenable. Thus this is the way I like things; and I know that, when I need more help, it is only a message over Facebook away. I firmly believe that is the healthiest attitude to have, and that thinking you need constant support and a personal assistant 24/7 ultimately traps people with conditions like Cerebral Palsy in a form of perpetual childhood.
I find myself wishing that I could somehow go back and tell my younger self how things would turn out: how, while mum’s dinners might be both delicious and dependable, it would one day be far cooler to do my own shopping before asking my PA to cook what I fancy. That, rather than being the hostile, frightening place I once assumed it to be, the world was crammed with more wonder and excitement than I could ever have imagined. That is one of the reasons why I blog: if there are any young disabled people out there as timid as I once was, I want to tell them that, once all the basics are in order, they are ultimately just as able as anyone else.