The Times Magazine 7SPINAL COLUMN
MELANIE REID
ependency is a most
frightfully crappy thing.
You don’t grasp how much
so until the people you
rely on to get you out of
bed every day can’t be
there – at which point
you stare very hard at
the wall, try to suppress
the terror, and talk sternly to yourself.
So, Mrs Disabled Would-be Superwoman,
who’s going to make you viable tomorrow
morning? Who’s going to help you wash and
dress and into your wheelchair, for the days
to follow? What’s your Plan B? Where’s your
back-up strategy, clever clogs, given the years
you’ve had to accept you’ll require daily
assistance for the rest of your life?
Haven’t got one, huh? Because you’ve got
complacent, because you take it for granted
(even though you claim you don’t) that
someone will always be there. That deadly
“It’ll be fine”. And because your care has been
so slick and reliable, and you’ve never had to
face this before, you’ve successfully conned
yourself that you’re not actually that helpless.
A few weeks ago, my wonderful carer, Janice,
became ill and it was a massive shock – firstly
on her behalf. The best news is that she is
recovering well and is going to be fine. But the
secondary shock, unavoidably, was about our
circumstances. How were we going to manage?
More pertinently, could Dave cope?
My husband is, and has been from the start,the ultimate back-stop, the one who throws
me into bed every night, and gets me up at
weekends. The forgotten about, ever present,
unpaid family primary carer, whose presence,
like that of so many hundreds of thousands of
people across the country, is presumed.
But he’s at his limits. His back gets sore.
He does what he can with good grace, but his
patience is limited. He finds putting shoes on
paralysed feet infuriating. I minimise his input
as best I can, but he’s vital for stuff like that.
Other things, like helping me with a shower,
are beyond him.
The good ship Mel & Dave, therefore, if
not quite holed below the waterline, began
to list heavily and travel very slowly. We had
to pick up the other chores that Janice does
effortlessly and we’d conveniently forgotten
about – washing clothes, putting them up on
the pulley, ironing, lighting the stoves, taking
the rubbish down to the recycling bins.
Achieving just one of these jobs took the
two of us a whole morning. We were like a bad
sitcom. The washing machine is inaccessible
to me, so I called out instructions for a device
I’ve never used; Dave implemented them.
Me: “What’s the temperature for the express
wash?” Him: “Where’s the express wash?”
Me: “On the dial.” Him: “Which dial? Hang on,
I’ll have to get my glasses.” “Put the soap in
the drawer.” “Which bit of the drawer?” “Er...”
I called on the cavalry. A friend did the
beds. My former district nurse showered me
at weekends. Barbara, my childminder andour housekeeper for decades, charged out of
retirement to take over the washing. Doug
flew home for 48 hours’ non-stop chores.
Fact: it’s easier to find cyber-rescue for
a shattered laptop than someone to put your
leggings on. Carers are in critically short
supply, to the extent that some councils have
said it can’t guarantee a service and clients
must rely on family and friends. I was very
lucky; a lovely local woman on maternity leave
from another type of job offered to come a
couple of times a week to relieve Dave. The
bonus for me is she brings her baby, who sleeps
in a corner of the bedroom in a car seat,
making sweet little noises like a puppy.
My terror has abated; we’re slowly
muddling through, one day at a time, and my
conviction grows that carers should be trained,
respected and recompensed on a par with the
emergency services. No robot can replace the
human hand. Physical dependency means
a tiny margin between crisis and normality.
You balance on a knife-edge, always reliant
on a chain of events not under your control.
Janice, happily, is doing so well she’s begun
a phased return to work. All being well, Dave
will again be left in peace to watch Sky News
in his dressing gown, coffee in hand. And
I have made a mental note: for everyone’s sake,
make sure you have back-up. n@Mel_ReidTimes
Melanie Reid is tetraplegic after breaking her
MURDO MACLEOD neck and back in a riding accident in April 2010
D
Carers should be
trained, respected
and paid well. I can
not live without
mine. And, trust
me, nor will you