davidgillon | Entries tagged with walking is overrated

About three months ago, there was a story in the Guardian about a bunch of climate activists letting the air out of the tires of every SUV parked in a posh area of London, with an interview with them where they claimed that no one needed something the size of a SUV.

Now I thought that it was a particularly stupid idea in the first place, being more likely to irritate people than attract them to pro-climate policies, but it also seemed to have the potential to cause issues for disabled people. So I tweeted about it, noting that if you're mobility impaired then the height of a SUV can make getting in and out more practical, and if you're a wheelchair user then the extra space of the SUV bodyform is really useful, so there's a pretty good chance you're hitting disabled people, not the wealthy. (I actually was thinking more of the mid-range SUVs than your typical Range Rover, there, but the point applies from mini-SUVs on up).

And got a response from a cycling activist saying "How can we tell the difference?"

*Headdesk*

So I answered you can't, which is only the truth (but I would probably have said that even if it wasn't, like I said, it's a stupid idea we don't want to encourage).

Then nothing for two or three months, only for a new message today from (looking at his Twitter profile) another cycling evangelist.

"With respect David, no one needs a supersize SUV. We have a VW Touran which we choose, having kids, due to its very large boot capacity. It’s a 2 litre, 7 seater. So please explain why anyone needs a 5l ranger rover?"

(I was particularly amused at the cycling activist claiming he's a better person because he only drives a 2l seven seater VW Touran. I'm sorry, you're preaching everyone should do everything by bike while riding around in a 2L Touran? Can we have some consistency please?)

Hmm, not a mention of my points about access and mobility needs, and the reductio ad absurdum strawman of the 5L Range Rover. Somehow I don't think you really meant any respect whatsoever, and I'm really not sure you actually read my points, or gave them any value if you did. Well, if you're going to be like that I'll tailor my response to fit:

"If you meant respect, you probably wouldn't throw out the reductio aa absurdum strawman of a 5l Range Rover. Let's go for something more reasonable: say a 1.5L Yaris Cross, which is a compact SUV, also available as a hybrid. 1/2

I'm also wondering whether you actually read my points, because as the driver of a classic Yaris, it's rather too small for me to comfortably use as a single wheelchair user. With my chair in the boot, it's reduced to a 2 seater, awkward for giving a couple of friends a lift. 2/3

I can only get into it comfortably because I can just squeeze falling straight back into the driver's seat (and tall I'm not) which doesn't work in, say, my sister's Fiesta. Getting out is awkward. 3/4

But your typical compact SUV with its larger bodywork might well solve all my issues - larger bootspace, no need to drop seats, higher mounted body makes it easier to get into and out of. 4/5"

(Actually, looking again the Yaris Cross might well be no better than my Yaris wrt space, though the extra height would help, probably need to go up to the mid-size SUVs to fit the chair)

"But that's just me , one person family, small manual chair. Now add a partner and a couple of kids, and up that to a powerchair and the hoist that goes with it. Or in some cases powerchair and manual chair, or powerchair and scooter, because mobility needs can vary. 5/6

So by the time we're up to typical family size we've left the compact SUVs behind and you're going to be looking at that Touran and thinking "wish we had a bit more space". 6/7

And let's be clear, no Touran is a seven seater if you're carrying a wheelchair. Checking dimensions, you might even need to collapse the second row just for my small chair and certainly will for some powerchairs and scooters. 7/8

The size of a Range Rover suddenly doesn't look so excessive, particularly if you have two or three hulking teens and the family dog to shuttle around. Whether you need the 5L engine is another matter, but I'm arguing size, not power. 8/9

And all that's assuming you can transfer from your chair, if you need to drive from it, then all bets are off WRT the bodysize you need.

TLDR: Wheelchairs take more space than people think, the SUV form-factor works well for people with mobility impairments. 9/9"

And as a later addendum:

"(Having checked, the RVAR Reference Wheelchair Size is 1200mm x 700mm, so even a manual chair can potentially reduce your Touran to a 2 seater)"

*Sigh* The moral of this story is that saying "With respect", when you clearly don't mean it, is a good way to annoy me.

Current Mood: Annoyed
Current Location: In the boot

This morning's dream (it was definitely after I'd woken briefly at 7AM when the heating turned on) seemed to have a weird mish-mash of elements.

There was your classic school anxiety dream - I was about to do A-levels, but had only been going to lessons for one of the three (this is probably riffing on an incident at university when I wandered past the computer labs and noticed half the people on my course in a lecture and was "Aaargh, should I be in there?")

Plus some stuff about walking given that's been more of an issue in the past few days AND I was talking about walking in a reply to Kab last thing last night.

But what struck me when I woke up was that I was clearly being humorous and self-deprecating about both how clumsy I am and that I kept forgetting my crutches (this is something I've done in real life). I think that's the second time ever I remember making jokes in a dream, and it was multiple jokes. Weird.

And of course having dreamt of issues walking, I woke up to find that it was true. Thanks, body.

Current Mood: Amused
Current Location: Wondering where my crutches are

I expected either back or hips, or back and hips, to have objected to yesterday's slight over-exertion in the garden when I woke up this morning.

Nope, both fine.

My ankle, however, feels like it's trying to tear itself apart.

*headdesk*

Current Mood: Ow
Current Location: sedentary

So I've had an ongoing project for the past couple of weeks of unexpectedly good weather to get the borders in my back garden sorted. Thursday morning my garden-waste wheelie-bin (full to the brim) was emptied, so I could get on with things. I'm currently working my way along the back fence, which has been taken over by an invasive vine-y thing, which is fairly easy to pull out by the handful. Or would be if it wasn't riven through with blackberry canes with thorns that wouldn't look out of place on a rose bush.

So Thursday I decided I'd concentrate on the blackberry canes - spot one, trace it back to where it comes out of the ground, slice it off and tug it free. Needless to say this involved a lot of bobbing up and down, and I kept thinking I should stop, "after I've done a little more". Eventually I'd pretty much filled the bin again, a lot of these canes were about 12 feet long, though it'll doubtless compress to half the size. And I came inside to find that rather than the hour I thought it had been I'd been doing that for two hours.

Thursday evening I was okay. Friday morning I wasn't, and my hips were being quite emphatic that they were not happy. It was in fact 3PM before I was able to stand up straight. Walking was less than optimal. Saturday was better, and I mostly feel okay today, though I have a very vague memory of waking up at 6AM, absolutely screaming because of shooting pain in my hip, and then going straight back to sleep again

Tomorrow I think I may try and see if I can make it slowly around the estate, just to get my hips moving, but I'm definitely not trying to root out the blackberry canes the same way again.

(And on top of everything I've never seen an actual blackberry on the damned things).

Current Mood: Hip
Current Location: Not moving, no way, no how
Current Music: Cmon baby, do the locomotion

... you answer a knock on the door at 11PM to find a policeman on your doorstep! Apparently someone had reported a little old lady wandering around the estate, they were trying to find her to do a welfare check, and wanted to know if I'd seen her. I told him no, but I'd check my back garden. No idea what came of that, though they were wandering around shining torches into all the bushes for a while.

I picked up my tickets for my trip north earlier. Annoyingly my right shoulder* seems to be finding pushing the chair irritating at the minute, though fortunately I don't have a great deal of pushing to do en route. Particularly annoying is that it was fine when I was out on Friday. I mentioned it on twitter and someone noted that EDS is clearly evil and stores up these things for when we most need our bodies to work.

* AKA my good shoulder

I considered booking 1st Class for the trip, but the difference in price was over 50% and looking at the seat plans (I've not yet travelled standard class on the new Azumas) there's not much to choose in extra distancing from other people in the wheelchair spaces between 1st Class and Standard Class. But looking at my tickets, my reservation is definitely in coach A, which is 1st Class. All upgrades gratefully accepted!

Ongoing Bujold Re-read

Komarr Miles goes to Komarr to investigate a space disaster, which turns out to be political sabotage. This is the book that introduces Ekaterin, the future Lady Vorkosigan, and the book's portrayal of someone squeezed down by an abusive marriage is some of the best writing I think she's done.

A Civil Campaign More of a comedy of manners than Vorkosigan stories usually are as Miles tries to woo Ekaterin without actually letting her in on it, all complicated by Emperor Gregor's impending marriage and Vor shennanigans. I'm not happy that Illyan's short term memory loss is used to drive the fatal spike into Mile's initial stratagem, and I've belatedly realised that we should be looking at Mark's disabilities as perhaps even more serious than Miles', despite the colourful language used to describe them. And on top of that there's the disturbing Lady Donna/Lord Dono sub-plot - gender identity is not something you change for convenience. (I'm only halfway through, so perhaps more later).

I've yet to find my copies of Cryoburn and Captain Vorpatril's Alliance. I think I'm going to have to dig into Amazon to find out what format I bought them in. My Kindle denies all knowledge of them, but I'm not convinced.

Current Mood: Upgraded
Current Location: Imminently in transit

Just been into town to pick up a prescription. OMG, where did all those people come from!

Overheard as I scooted past the crowds outside the cafes at the bottom of Boley Hill (taking advantage of the slope) "I hope he's got good brakes". Sooo tempted to yell back over my shoulder "No brakes whatsoever!"

And my pushing muscles are completely shot after a year of almost zero use. Time to start pushing up and down my street again.

Current Mood: Eek, people!
Current Location: Out and About

YouTube keeps trying to sell me running shoes and warning about ankle injuries while running in the wrong shoes (makes a change from pushing online gambling).

I feel they may have missed an essential facet of being a wheelchair user.

Current Mood: amused
Current Location: Wheeled

Back home, after an interesting journey (in the Chinese sense of the word).

I was on the 12:02 from Darlington to Kings Cross. As usual Passenger Assistance at Darlington got me on the train without problem, though we did have to move three people from the wheelchair space and my first reaction was 'Gosh, this is crowded'. There was also an elderly lady being assisted aboard and as there were no seats obviously available I dropped the aisle side seat that gets folded up when the wheelchair space is in use so that she could use it - that one is just usable with the wheelchair in place, the window side one isn't (that's where my feet are). As we got chatting, she explained that the previous train, which she had a reservation on, had been cancelled. That explained the people standing in the aisles.

Things got worse at York, lots of people wanting to get on, and in the middle of them, a wheelchair user. Cue five minutes of the guy from Passenger Assistance shouting "Will you please move out of the way" at the people in the vestibule. Fortunately the new wheelchair user was pretty good at manouevring their chair as getting them into the other wheelchair space, once they got to it, required moving seven suitcases, three adults, and two toddlers. And once they were in all of that luggage then got piled back around them. They literally could not move their chair, there were multiple bags leaning against it's side and a huge one in contact with the footplate at the front. I'm less than convinced that this was safe. Certainly neither of us could move without other passengers moving themselves and their luggage and getting to the toilet would have been an exercise in futility. It turned out that they should have been on the train two before ours, both the intervening ones having been cancelled. So we now had nearly three trainloads aboard. Another passenger asked if it was possible to use the other seat in the wheelchair space as they couldn't stand for long, and when I explained there physically wasn't space for an adult to use it they burst into tears. Fortunately someone volunteered to stand and let them have their seat.

So the other wheelie and I swapped anecdotes about travel by wheelchair - I can't beat their story of going over backwards in a wheelchair accessible taxi (but only because I stuck my toe under the seat in front to stop it happening the one time I've used one). Confusingly they sounded almost exactly like kaberett - same pitch, similar accent - which was doing a cognitive dissonance number on my brain given voice and chair but visibly not Kab. I got a text from my sister after a while, having reported the crowding, saying "At least you have a seat", which got a laugh from everyone around, doubly so when the other wheelie reported an identical one from their mother. They were getting off at Peterborough, not going to the end of the line like me, so I suggested that if we saw the guard they grab him and demand help when we got there. We never saw him close enough to speak to, though apparently he did pop momentarily into view when the disabled passenger alarm started sounding - it wasn't either of us, we suspected the kid in the loo at the time had pressed the wrong button. Disturbingly he didn't check the toilet, or us, just reset the alarm, then disappeared again.

And inevitably we got to Peterborough, and not only wasn't the guard about, but neither was there any sign of passenger assistance with a ramp. Fortunately we were able to repeat the seven pieces of luggage, three adults, two toddlers and one wheelie sliding block puzzle to get them out, and they were able to stand unaided for long enough to get off the train and rely on other passengers to hand their chair down, but that's really not good enough. SOP needs to be that the guard ensures there's both access room and assistance in cases like this. Actually that needs to be standard in all cases, but doubly so when trains are massively overcrowded.

We were just over half an hour late at Kings Cross, which should mean I can reclaim half my fare, but it could have been worse, the woman doing passenger assistance at St Pancras told me they'd had to suspend all services for four hours yesterday due to a trespasser on the line, who they only managed to snare when they finally brought a helicopter in.

And just to cap everything, I made a complete pig's ear of coming down the ramp at Rochester, having to be saved by the guard and the passenger assistance guy when I braked harder on one side than the other and nearly went off the side of the ramp - I seem to have slightly sprained my wrist at some point and I'm not quite sure if it was the cause of the skid, or a consequence.

Still, I'm home, at last.

Current Mood: Assisted, sort of
Current Location: Home, despite the railway companies

Interesting piece on accessible cities in the Guardian. The idea of mapping and route-planning by pavement slope is sheer genius for wheelchair users, and the sooner it's adopted by the people doing mapping software the better!

It's not perfect, one section is on a residential community for autistic kids which I'm fairly sure I've seen on The Mighty (alarm bells), which somehow fails to mention the overwhelming majority of people with autism don't need community care, but otherwise it's not bad.

Current Mood: Why didn't I think of that
Current Location: Sloping off

2 hour meeting with the Rochester High Street Traders forum and the councillor for the high street ward this morning. It actually went well, and we got our point across that they just hadn't understood what is an issue for wheelchair users. I'm not 100% happy with their idea of putting ramps down as a solution to stalls blocking the pavement. They'll let wheelchairs have access, but they'll be a horrendous trip hazard, particularly for the VI community. I'm not convinced "well, all the stalllholders have £5m insurance" is the ideal response to a safety risk, but the councillor agreed it needs to be discussed with the Highways department.

But it's just as well I took my friend Sue along, both for the powerchair perspective, and because otherwise I might have punched someone. Every time I tried to explain why something was an issue for manual wheelchair users, one of the traders jumped in to cut me off and say "No, it isn't". You can imagine how well that went down with me. Apparently it isn't entirely his fault, it's an aspect of his vascular dementia, but it was making it almost impossible to get our message across. Fortunately Sue recognised what was going on and dragged him off into a side-discussion.

Best moment:
Sue to Cllr: We've not met, but you may know my name.
Cllr: Hmm?
Sue: Sue G
Cllr: {Goes white}

Current Mood: drained
Current Location: On the pavement, theoretically

Left house for lunch at 2:30, home at 7pm.

Lunch first (see previous post) then I drove over to Wickes to price up some replacement roofing felt for my shed (the existing stuff half ripped off in one of the spring storms), plus loft boarding, passing an accident which had just happened on the way (one car had t-boned another - no injuries, but sitting in the middle of the main road). Passed by a police traffic car with sirens blazing as I parked at Wickes - 'I know where you're going!' Their felt was 50% more than at Homebase for the identical brand, similarly for the loft board (I'd checked there earlier in the week), so back up to Homebase, queueing to pass the accident again, now with police in attendance. Get the felt, drive back past the accident again. Drop off the felt, head up to Asda, getting to the accident just as the recovery vehicle arrives, waved past by the police for the third time in an hour. Do my shopping, head back, and at least this time the accident's been cleared and I'm not waved past by the police, who must have thought I was taking the piss.

Dump the shopping and immediately head out for my daily waddle, because once I sat down I wasn't moving again.

Got a hundred metres, turned around and came home again. Changed into ankle braces (AFOs), headed out once more. I was fairly certain too much time on my feet was provoking the intermittent drop foot issues I've been having, but today was all chair, and the foot drop was the worst I've seen. My left foot was catching literally every step, my right about half that. Definitely time to talk to my GP about actually getting this looked at and AFOs officially prescribed and properly fitted (as opposed to bought from Amazon), but also important to know it seems to be fatigue-linked, not activity-linked, which makes it much harder to avoid. Passed one of the regular dog-walkers while on the second attempt: "You're definitely walking faster!" he says. Didn't have the heart to explain why.

So tiring, but useful.

Current Mood: Bracing
Current Location: Dropped

Once around the two streets of my little estate is almost exactly half a mile. The last time I did physio, at the pain management class in 2014, my physio was insistent I get out and walk a little each day, so I started doing that circuit of the estate, which takes me about 15 minutes. But I fell out of the habit last year, when the infected toe meant I was bleeding every time I walked more than a few yards. I've been meaning to start again, and had a few false starts, but now the weather's warmed up I've managed it every day for a week, which is a good sign.

The route's sort of an inverted question mark, marginally downhill as you head away from the house, uphill as you head back, and all on footpaths. I've been doing it around 2-3pm and there tend not to be too many people about - usually mostly dog-walkers, who've been fairly good about keeping dogs to heel - I got nervous about the rottweiler that was headed towards me yesterday, but his owner reeled him in before he got to me. Car owners parking on the pavement are more of an issue.

My performance has been mixed. Real problems with foot drop making my toe drag the first couple of times, but that hasn't been an issue since. Which is surprising, I remembered it as being more of an issue. Hips, however, have been making themselves known, and they have a nasty habit of kicking in right at the furthest point from the house, when I can't cut the route short. But that's uncomfortable rather than a killer.

Now the trick will be to see if I can keep it up when the weather isn't quite as warm as it's been.

Current Mood: Owie
Current Location: Prostrate post-perambulation

AKA Life with Dyspraxia.

Stumbling half awake across the living room and kick over a glass left from last night (it was at least on a tray, though if I'd been too lazy to put it on the tray it would likely have been somewhere I wouldn't kick it over - no deed of voluntary housework goes unpunished).

Glass lands roughly where my foot was meant to be coming down, I'm left standing on one leg, the dodgier, wobblier left one, with my foot dangling in mid air while trying to work out where the hell do I put my foot that isn't 1) on top of the glass (pint pot, not likely to end well) or 2) the tray (also not likely to end well).

In trying not to lose my balance, I end up throwing myself headlong across the arm of the sofa and onto the floor beyond, fortunately avoiding the wall beyond that (which I'm still not sure how I achieved, it took a 45 degree change of direction in mid-air).

I escaped with a sore knee, but let's hope that's not an indication of how the rest of the day is going to go.

Current Mood: awake
Current Location: Pitched headlong
Crossposts: http://dwgism.livejournal.com/29566.html

So after our regular Saturday coffee date my friend and I decided to call in on another friend,.

Only I couldn't park across the road from them due to Mon-Sat residents only parking, so I left my friend at the door and ended up next street over, about a couple of hundred metres away. I'd just pushed back to the car, it was slightly uphill, I really couldn't face hauling the chair back out of the boot and pushing it, so I decided to walk. One problem, neither my sticks nor my crutches were in the car - and annoyingly I'd actually been meaning to move the sticks back to the boot, but had forgotten in the rush of running late. That would make it the furthest I've walked unaided in, well, as long as I can remember.

'It's okay,' thinks I, 'If I cross over, then I can use the wall to steady myself against if I need it, and then there's walls all the way.'

Good plan, assuming I made it as far as the wall. I'm not quite sure what I did, but it involved my foot not making clean contact with the kerb, and the next moment I'm headed decidedly floorward. Classic faceplant: knee, then hip, then hand, arm, shoulder and finally forehead, with my glasses skittering off into the distance. It's a side road, so no one to make a fool of myself in front of, but equally no one to help.

I really did do a good job on myself, it was several minutes before I felt up to standing, and that pavement wasn't exactly comfortable. First thing I checked was how badly I was bleeding from my forehead, and I was most surprised to find that I wasn't, and that my glasses had survived.. OTOH it was pretty clear I'd skinned my knee even though my jeans were intact, but that was the only real damage. I really was shaking quite badly, so the first few minutes at my friends' turned into a patching-up David session, and they insisted on driving me around to the car afterwards, which was probably wise.

But damn, I've never done that before that I can remember (well, not since screwing my back 25 years ago), there've been the odd few unintended descents to the carpet when I've overbalanced in the house, but always in a semi-controlled fashion, never a complete facepant in public (even if there were no public)

The moral of this tale is don't leave the damned sticks in the house, make sure theyre in the boot for when you need them!

(And I really am okay, the only serious damage is to my dignity)

Current Mood: sore
Current Location: On top of Mt Oh, bugger !!!!
Current Music: Dizzy, Vic Reeves and the Wonderstuff

I've been using the chair in the house, I've been using the chair out and about, what I haven't been doing is using the chair to get from in the house to out there - I've been pushing it out to the car whenever I go out. So yesterday I decided to actually wheel out of the front door for the first time. I realised this was a mistake when the chair jammed at a 45 degree nose-down angle and the cushion, with me atop, slid neatly forward... I caught myself before departing company with the chair/landing ass first on the path, but this doesn't look to have any easy solutions, especially as the steps in the path caused similar issues. I could potentially wheelie off, but I'm not actually up to that as yet (my wheelies are getting longer, and I'm probably on the edge of being able to manouver while up there, but not just yet). If I end up using the chair all of the time (more on that in a moment), then I may need to consider ramping the path.

Having stood up and loaded the chair into the car the old-fashioned way, I headed off and ran a couple of errands, and in the middle of PC World (nope, not paying that much for a can of air), I realised that there was something different, that I was enjoying moving around. Mostly when I'm using crutches it isn't actively painful, but it isn't pleasant, moving around is a chore. In the chair that's not the case, even with shoulders that aren't really up to the job yet. If things are going to get better than this (especially when I eventually replace the monster with something lightweight), then I'm not certain there's much justification for using crutches instead. This doesn't mean giving up on standing, there's still plenty of circumstances around the house where that's the easiest, but the whole point of the chair is that I find walking about with crutches enough of a chore that there are things I don't do anymore, and the advantage the chair offers turns out to also to apply to the walking I still do.

And in other news, I just had an email from an old friend/colleague asking if I'm up for sailing again this summer. We haven't done it in several years given families and kids, but the four sailing holidays we've done have all been great fun, so, fingers crossed, Mediterranean here I come (the Argolic Gulf west of Athens is the current favourite for where). And of course that then raises questions about whether I take the chair or not - if it's still the monster, probably not, if I've sorted out something lightweight and dismantable by then much more likely (as it may have to share a cabin not much bigger than my bunk with me). OTGH, Greece, not the most wheelie friendly country ever....

I guess I'd better get that passport renewal sorted (one of the errands was new passport pics).

Current Mood: Anticipatory
Current Location: On wheels
Current Music: I've Been Wheeling in My Chair,Madness (not necessarily the original lyrics)