Sunday, May 29, 2016

Well, that was stupid of me.

I wanted to get something from the airing cupboard - simple, you'd think.
Stupidly I decided not to disturb Himself, who was working out in the garden. 'All' I needed to do was take the little stepstool upstairs to reach the shelf. I carried it to the bottom of the stairs - no problem, then lifted it, stair by stair; pop the stool down, climb a step, lift and repeat. by the time I got to the top of the stairs I was drenched with sweat, and I was shaking so much I couldn't even operate the heart rate monitor until after I'd been flumped on the bed for several minutes.
All the careful resting and gentle pacing I've done over the past few weeks, all wrecked in 5 minutes of my own utter stupidity.

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Othering, and queueing for the loo.

We visited the FitzWilliam museum in Cambridge recently to visit a special exhibition. (wonderful place - brilliant staff).
As nature happens, I needed the loo. As is the norm, I pushed against the main door to the ladies, and it swung open. However, it was too stiff and heavy for me to pull open again myself, so I had to wait for someone else to let me out. (embarrassing)  And no, fire doors do NOT have to be like that; if they are hung and maintained properly, they can be opened with ease. Anyway, I decided I would use the loo for disabled people next time; those doors, although wider and to the same specification, are usually better balanced and maintained. It's also better hygiene to be able to wash your hands before needing to touch your walking stick handle. I avoid using the full access loo unless I really have to - greater need, and all that. (Why do they get called disabled toilets? To me a disabled loo is one that's out of action) Anyway.
A meal and a little wander round later, I needed the loo before leaving. As well as the wheelchair and nappy change symbols there was also notice on the door saying (paraphrasing) that people could use the toilet regardless of their gender identity. At first glance, this might have seemed accepting, then I realised it was, indeed, the opposite. Disabled people need the specific facilities offered - wide, light door, wheelchair turning circle,  high seat, accessible washbasin. Carers need nappy change facilities. Trans people? They just need to be allowed to get through the door that matches their gender identity, and pee in peace. This sort of false acceptance segregates them, othering them, refusing to accept who they are, trampling on them just that little bit more.
No. It's not right. (Also, selfishly, it could cause longer queues - not nice when IBS strikes!)