Finding My Feet

The house was quiet as I sat staring around the room. Grandpops had carried my luggage from the car and into the downstairs guest room. He had gently placed the large suitcase on the bed before he stood quietly, wringing his hands together, his eyes misty and blinking rapidly.

Grandy had walked in a moment later placed fresh towels on top of the suitcase and walked around the room touching drapes, opening the window, telling me where everything was. Although it wasn’t the room I usually occupied when I came to stay, I was familiar with it.

“Can I get you anything love?” Grandy lightly placed her hand on my shoulder. I looked down at it, marked and scarred with age. Bones and veins prominent under the skin, her knuckles and joints showed the wear and tear of an age where things weren’t as easy as they were now.

“I’m fine Grandy.” I smiled at her and then at Pops. “I think I’d like to rest though. It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll help you put your clothes away then you can take a nap.” She moved to the suitcase.

“I’ll do it later. I’d rather just lay down for now.”

She went to move towards me. “I can manage.” I smiled up at her.

“Ok dear.” She seemed unsure as to whether she should leave me, as she started backing away nervously. “Come Toby. Let’s leave Maddy to herself.”

Grandpops hovered a moment before he walked to me. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “We’ll be close by if you need us Tiddles.”

“Thanks Pops.” I reached my hand to grip his briefly.

Once they were gone, I manoeuvred the wheelchair awkwardly to the window and sat staring out across the reeds at the lake. A shoreline I had run along since I first took steps. A place that I didn’t know if I’d ever step foot on again. It had been a huge part of my world, but that world had turned upside down in an instant.

It had been a normal Friday night in the middle of winter. My parents and I had been to see our team play football, it was one of the things we always made time for. It had been a family outing since I was a baby, every home game we’d pack our lunch or dinner, put on our club’s red and white colours and go and sit in the crowd and watch the boys run around.

They had won the game in a nail biter and we were still running on adrenalin when we left the stadium. The Friday night crowd was boisterous and in good spirits as they lined up for busses, started walking to the train station or hung around in groups talking to friends. A few kicking or handballing footys back and forth.

We made our way through the crowd towards the carpark and were soon on our way.

Then my world changed forever.

I saw dad turn his head slightly and flick his eyes over to mum and ask “Is it done?” Mum nodded.

“Maddy you know that trip you have been saving for?” Dad’s voice was light and playful.

“Yes.” I’d gotten a little deflated about the trip in recent days.

My friends and I had been hoping to travel during the European summer, but I hadn’t been able to save all of the funds required. A couple of my friends came from wealthy families, the fact their parents were contributing to the trip had created a problem. I had tried to sway them away from some of the more expensive ideas with no luck. I was almost at the point where I was going to have to pull out of some of the trip.

“Mum and I have been talking and I’m due for a decent bonus this year, so we thought we could loan you some money to put towards your trip.”

“Really?” I started to get excited. I would still need to be choosey, but it would at least mean I could still spend some time on the yacht in the Greek Islands.

“Check your bank darling.” Mum encouraged.

I opened my banking app and there sitting in my account was a deposit of $20,000.

“OH MY GOD!” I screamed in excitement. “ARE YOU KIDDING?” I continued yelling in joy. “I LOVE YOU GUYS!”

Mum and Dad were laughing and smiling between each other and me.

I was looking down at my phone again, “I’ll pay you back I swear.”

There had been blinding lights, the scraping of metal and spinning, spinning over and over, the crunch of showering glass, the screaming of terrified voices and then silence. Since before total darkness.

I woke up in hospital the next day unable to move.

The sight of the lake depressed me. It reminded me of better times. Of times when I rode on my father’s shoulders and my mother smothered me in sunscreen. I was reminded of how I would race them back to the veranda for sandwiches and cold drinks. Of bonfires on New Year’s Eve and of boating with the local kids. Of salt spray from fishing and the salt of tears and hugs from my mum when a summer romance failed. All of those now forever a thing of the past.

I wheeled my chair from the window to the suitcase and stared at it a few minutes. I didn’t want to unpack. It’s not that I couldn’t manage it, unpacking my suitcase had deeper meaning. A meaning that I refused to accept. Instead I moved back to the other side of the bed and tried figure out how I was going to get myself from the chair onto the high mattress.

“You can do this Maddy.” I told myself as I locked the brakes on. But it was useless, I couldn’t lift my legs. Pulling on the blankets only loosened them. I had no leverage and I couldn’t do it.

I looked down at my useless legs as tears of frustration fell into my lap. Determined not to call for my Grandparents help, I tried once more and failed at which point I slumped forward resting my head and upper torso on the bed and cried myself to sleep half sitting half laying.

Life with my Grandparents had turned into one long loop of routine of mind numbing sameness and never ending humiliation.

I was stuck in a chair that didn’t allow me any freedom. My grandparent’s house was wrapped by a raised veranda making it impossible to escape without assistance. Not that I had anywhere I wanted to be. I didn’t want to go back to work and I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing friends who would offer me condolences and look at the chair and me with pity.

After spending every summer and most other school holidays in the seaside village, I knew most of the locals, and on the days Grandy insisted she push me down to the shops, I was met with sad smiles of well meaning neighbours. The only thing that gave me solace was the knowledge that most of the kids I had grown up with were also holiday kids, who weren’t regular visitors to the sleepy hamlet at this time of year.

Grandy didn’t stop with our little walks to the shops, she had her friends come around for tea. They would bring home baked goods to entice me out of my shell. They would bring me freshly cut flowers from their gardens. I would be wheeled out onto the veranda and sit while they talked about the things grandparents talk about. They talked about everything but my situation. I sipped tea and took small bites of their cakes and tried to feel something while staring at the lake.

And that wasn’t even the worst. The simplest things like bathing and going to the toilet required assistance. The bathroom downstairs was tiny and not able to fit a wheelchair. The shower now held a plastic outdoor chair that my Grandpops would carry me to. I would put on my robe backwards and then he would carefully lift me and deposit me on the chair. I would shower and then dry myself as best as possible and then re-robe and call for him to collect me. Not too bad except for that one time when I fell from the chair and Grandy wasn’t home and he had to come in and help me up. Nothing like your grandfather seeing you in all your naked and twisted glory to give you a reality check of your totally fucked up situation.

But that still wasn’t the worst. The worst was praying that you didn’t need to go to the bathroom whilst Grandy was out. At least with Grandy helping me on and off the toilet I didn’t feel as mortified, but if I needed grandpops to help, it just killed me, because I knew it was killing him to see me so helpless. He didn’t mind doing it, but he was uncomfortable and that made me hate myself for needing him.

And then there were the times that we weren’t fast enough and I wouldn’t make it in time and then someone had to help me clean myself.

I was nineteen years old but may as well have been a toddler.

We’d been living together like this for a couple of months, the strain starting to fray the tender strings of our relationships as each day passed.

One morning after breakfast they asked me to stay at the table a little longer.

“Tiddles, your Grandmother and I have been talking and feel that maybe it’s time we made some changes.”

“Changes Pops?” I was filled with dread. Were they sending me away? Was it too much for them having me here?

Grandy picked up where he had left off, “We both feel that perhaps your rehabilitation will be more successful if we make some substantial changes to your living arrangements.”

I was panicked now. “I know I haven’t been easy to live with, but I’m trying my best, please don’t send me away.” Tears fell down my face as I looked pleading between the two.

“Oh Darling. Darling girl, we’re not sending you away.” Grandy grasped my hand in hers. “We’re making some changes to the house. Renovating the bathroom so you will have your own privacy and adding a ramp to the house. You’re a prisoner here, it’s no wonder you’re not responding to treatment.”

“That will cost a fortune though.” I protested.

“I have friends in town who will help me. It will be worth every cent if it means you will be on your feet again.” Grandpops smiled at me.

“What if I don’t walk again?” I asked in a timid voice.

“The doctors see no reason why you won’t be able to.”

“Yes, I know, it’s all in my mind.” I looked away from them to the windows that overlooked the backyard. “If I knew how to fix this I would.”

“We want you to see another Doctor Tiddles.”

“I’ve had numerous specialists look at my spine and my legs, they all say the same thing.”

“We want you to see a Psychiatrist.”

I nodded. The last time I’d seen one, it had been a total disaster.

“Ok.” I nodded. “I’ll see someone, but someone new, not that one from before.”

Two weeks later I sat on the deck looking out at the lake. My meeting with the Psychiatrist had gone well. She was younger and specialized in dealing with people like me. I looked down at the little black notebook she’d handed me before I’d left.

I opened it to the first page and started.

My Doctor says writing in here might help. I don’t know about that, but here goes.