David Gillon

I'm getting ready to head off to the Med sailing at the end of the week, so thoughts are inevitably revolving around packing and preparation, but being disabled adds a whole additional layer of complications.

We've had the trip arranged for months, but I've only just organised insurance. Travel insurance companies treat disability and medical conditions (which aren't remotely the same thing) as a license to print money. They especially love uncompleted medical investigations and I'm waiting for the results of a whole load of tests on my shoulders and neck. The results were due at the start of June, so I waited to get that resolved, only for the hospital to postpone the appointment for a month at the last minute, right into the middle of the holiday, so it's now postponed for two months instead <pout>. Anyway seeing as I can't wait that long I'm now insured, except for anything remotely related to my disability, which I can't help thinking is a teensy bit discriminatory.

Then there's the question of what painkillers I need to take and whether I'll manage with the new-since-last-time-sailing Butrans that's good for everyday, but without the codeine I've used in the past for exceptional stuff like sailing.  If I have to up the Butrans dose I'll probably sleep through the trip, especially as seasickness tablets + booze already tends to drop me like a poleaxed steer. Then all my dodgy joints mean I have to think about whether to take any braces or not, tubigrip or soft supports aren't a problem, but past that I'm into rigid collars and knee immobilizers and that starts to take up a lot of space. I imagine it'll be the usual leave them behind and keep everything crossed nothing pops out in an irreversible fashion. In many ways it would actually be easier to make the journey using a wheelchair, particularly at the airport, but there are so many potential complications around the airport and airline and wheelchairs that it is simpler to deal with the discomfort of doing it on my feet while I have that option available.

Once we get to the airport I then have to navigate it. That means queueing for security, and don't they have fun when I walk up to the first burly guard and announce that wearing a TENS means I have wires running down into my underwear.... Being intimately groped by a 6'8" gorilla in front of several hundred strangers just isn't my favourite part of the trip. Once done with security there's the inevitable several mile trek out to whichever gate Cheaperjet are flying from, which you don't find out about until five minutes beforehand. Some people can handle walking significant distances in not much time, some of us can't. The airport/airline would doubtless say I should let them know about my disabilities in advance so that they can 'look after' me, but I don't want to be 'looked after' by being herded into a disability corral out of the sight of right-thinking people, I'm travelling with friends I haven't seen in a couple of years and I don't want to start the trip out separated from them.

The flight of course brings the very special torture of cattle-class seating. I wondered why my eyes were watering on the last flight I took, then realised I was actually crying in pain. You know you're far too used to pain when it takes tears to make you notice it as out of the ordinary!

The airport we're flying to is a little regional dual-use civil/military one, getting out on arrival isn't likely to be too much of a problem, but homeward bound security can be interesting at the best of times if the security guys don't speak enough English to understand what a TENS is. On a military airfield, where they've been known to throw birdwatchers in jail for pointing cameras in the wrong direction....

(Memo to brain, look up Greek for 'I swear it's a medical device,' also 'I demand to see the British Consul').

Then there's the sailing company people, who don't actually know I'm disabled yet and won't until they see me with crutches. I'm a qualified day skipper, I have my trusty minions to do all the physical work, the last bunch I dealt with were absolutely brilliant about it, but there's still that niggling worry they may freak out and throw obstacles in my way and it won't go away until we're out of the harbour entrance.

I've no doubt it'll be fun in the end, good company pretty much guarantees that, but God does disability complicate things! Oh, and we're sailing to Ithaca, so if you don't hear from me, inquire care of Odysseus...