When you look at me do you see the wheelchair? Do you think of the woman who is sitting in it?
I need someone to get me out of bed in the morning, I want you to do it with a smile, I need a person to put me to bed at night, I want you to be thankful for the day we’ve had together.
I like exploring churches and wandering around graveyards using the dates on headstones; the history inspiring me in my writing. I never do this.
I love the fact that I like Boyzone and I like loving Chopin.
I adore watching old films, where no one gets shot. My life cries out for happy endings.
Do you feel you know me yet?
I’m not looking for luxury I want the simple life: a gite in France is all I need. To wake up and walk to the bakery, bring back croissant for breakfast, meander to the market and buy fresh fish for supper. A relaxing lunch of baguette and cheese, an afternoon of reading books in the warm sun. Later, watching the sun dip over the deepening blue Mediterranean.
Do you see any anger in me? Do you see my emotions, my pain, my frustration? Or do you only see the chair?
I cry for lost friends, my isolation, my need for a hug; someone to hold me, not sex. That’s not what I need.
What makes me laugh? My grandchildren who normalise my disability – who enjoy being lifted by my hoist, their laughter and delight at the fun in this activity – my OT would have a fit! I laugh at silly sitcoms: ‘Dad’s Army’, ‘Outnumbered’ and ‘Butterflies’, ‘Bread’, ‘The Vicar of Dibley’ and of course ‘Friends’.
I hate the way I look, sitting in this chair.
I hate the way you look at me, seeing me like this.
Now, when you look at me do you think you know me better?