Entry 8: Bingley, Briefs And Missing Snogging.

This is Bingley. I bought him as an eight week-old pup, who appeared at first very shy and very scared of the world around him. A bit like I was, following my accident I suppose. Bingley was brilliant. He totally bought me out of my shell as I attempted to bring him out of his… Although it wasn't long before he was pretty much in charge of the household!

Oh yes, Bingley ended up with all kinds of names as we helped him learn to house train, and teach him his basic skills and manners. I suppose the main thing I have to be grateful to Bingley for is getting me out of the house. You see, being Miss Independent I would go anywhere and do pretty much anything that I wanted, with very little thought to other people. I was pretty selfish (and still am I suppose). But following my accident. I was in a manual chair for a good year or more. In fact, thinking about it, it must have been two years or so I was in a manual chair where I could not go anywhere without another person pushing me. That meant I could not face the direction I wanted to, change my position in the room, change the room, or just pop out… It was so limiting it's hard to describe. Anyway, I kind of got into the groove of not being able to move myself around, and this habit stuck after I got my power chair. I was lacking in confidence too – I had not been outside on my own for over two years. Leaving the house was a huge deal. I discussed it with friends and family. I talked it through with a mentor from the Backup Trust. I discussed it with the psychologist at the spinal unit. But basically it was a case of my taking a deep breath and just doing it. I never did. Not until I got Bingley.

Somehow with him trotting by my side as I rolled down the street, I was no longer as self-conscious as I was. I was braver, and I felt more able to deal with roads and traffic and bumpy pavements. People had an excuse to stop and talk to me and I had to stop and talk to them, but actually I really enjoyed doing it. I was no longer "the girl in the wheelchair looking a bit strange," I was now  "the woman taking her dog for a walk, who happened to be in a wheelchair." It was just in my head. This major change in my perception of myself and who I am. It gave me a huge confidence boost – I am still a woman with interests, issues, ideas, and intrigues. I'm still as much a person as I was before my accident. I simply now have an extra dimension in my life that embodies being disabled. It is amazing how much being disabled takes over everything else. It really does impact on every single area of your life, which is why I'd managed to somehow forget that I'm a person, I am not the disability.

another digging expedition!

We had many adventures, Bingley and I. There was the incident(s) where we got completely stuck in the mud… I should have known better. It had been raining for days! However off we trotted to the park and I don't know why but of all the parks available I'd chosen the one where the concrete path runs out and you have to go around the steps, up and over the green hill slope. So it's about 6:30 PM, its grey and overcast, I can feel spots of rain coming down. Bingley is running alongside me happy as Larry, until thwack!! My front castors stuck solid in mud. I nearly garrotted Bingley as he strangled himself on his collar and lead so unexpected a stop did we come to. The back wheels dug right on in and spun round and round as I tried to get us out to no avail. Bingley thought it was amazing – after a mud shower he promptly jumped up on the side of my chair, licking my hand then buried head, front paws and belly in the mud in a digging frenzy. The park was empty. I had no way of contacting my PA. She wasn't even sure of which Park I'd gone to. I looked around for help, but there was nobody there in the coming gloom. That was when the panic set in. Scream at the top of my voice was an understatement. I yelled and I hollered. I cried help, I cried hello, I cried girl in wheelchair … Thinking about it I was very lucky there was no dodgy bloke lurking about in the bushes, which frankly in Liverpool one should really expect rather than take as an exception. Anyway, a bloke did come to my rescue, but only after enough time had passed for me to picture the newspapers: Police Hours Wasted by Daft Quad Stuck in Mud. In my mind the police had out their dogs, even the helicopter with its heatseeking camera… Though it wouldn't work of course, because my body temperature would have dropped from being outside so long. As I was saying, a guy walking his own dog came along and was chivalrous enough to help me out the mud. Boy, was I relieved to see him!

My PA, however, was less happy to see me and Bingley as we were both chocca with mud and she had the pleasant task of cleaning is both up *cue evil laugh… mwah ha ha!                      

And then there's the time when Bingley stole my knickers…

He looks so sweet and innocent, doesn't he? Butter would not melt. It's all just a ruse to get away with as much trouble as possible! My PA had hung up my washing on the clothes maiden. Unfortunately, she had decided that the lower levels could be used for my delicates, and this was far too enticing a treat for Bingley. He sneaked up the corridor, gingerly took a pair of knickers when nobody was looking and then bolted hell for leather back down the corridor, through the lounge past my wheelchair and out into the garden.

It was so funny that I couldn't stop laughing. At the end of my garden was this gorgeous little creature, the naughtiest imp I had come across with a pair of my briefs between his jaws – I wouldn't have minded except they were my Supergirl pants! Naturally I had to send a PA to rescue them from him.

Underwear is frankly a whole new ballgame when you become disabled. Especially if your upper body has no muscle tone/control left. You want to buy something that fits, but you also have to take into account the fact that you cannot feel it once you're wearing it. You therefore do not know if anything is digging in where it shouldn't be, and you don't know if anything has fallen out that needs to be kept cupped. And of course there is the ongoing decision – do you buy something practical or something you don't mind being seen should you end up in hospital surrounded by male doctors… Why can't there be something both practical and attractive? Why must I always end up at M&S, instead of Agent Provocateur?

And then that begs the question why should I bother worrying what my underwear looks like? The only people who get to see it are my PAs, the occasional paramedics and those unfortunate enough to come around on wash day. I guess the reason my brain is wandering along these lines today is because frankly, just because a person is paralysed doesn't mean that they have their sensual side switched off. Dammit, I miss snogging! My close friends will probably be groaning inwardly because they've heard that sentence before many a time, even from before my accident! The point I guess I'm making here is that just because I'm paralysed, it doesn't mean that fundamental part of being human has gone from me. I think I can speak for pretty much the whole of the disabled community here in saying that just because we are disabled, it does not mean we no longer crave intimacy. If anything, we may need it more than before our injury because so many people withdraw from us. And let's face it, it's always nice when somebody fancies you!

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