Tuesday, 1 May 2012

MayDay Flash - 'M'aidez, M'aidez' by Virginia Moffatt

Help me.  
 I hate saying  that.  It sounds so pathetic.  Needy.  Reminds me of what  I one was and what I have become. Sometimes, looking at photos of my past self - a radiant May Queen surrounded by adoring  attendants;  a graduating student on the road to success; the bronzed half of a once devoted couple - I wonder if such things actually happened to me.
Help me - the bitter words of the forcibly dependant.  I much prefer the French  - "M'aidez" - give me aid.  A tad more dignified, and God knows I could do with dignity these days.  It's  been in short  supply ever since this disease began to invade my body:  unsheathing my nerves;  paralysing my legs, muscle by atrophying muscle.  
At first, I wasn't  quite disabled enough for an accessible flat. But now my limbs have given up in the battle for motion, I have at last reached the nirvana of eligibility. Fiftieth on the waiting list for a home with doors wide enough for my wheelchair.  I'll be there in a couple of years.
In the mean time, the Council makes sure to meet my needs.  Each day the carer brings my state-sanctioned salt-infused pre-cooked meal  leaving it for me to microwave. They've given me a rail in the toilet so I can pull myself up to do the necessary. The shower chair is beyond me though.  I make do with a flannel and hope for the best.
It  would be nice to get out once in a  while.  Feel the breeze on my face.  Collect posies of may blossom, like I did when I was  girl. But since I lost my Attendance Allowance, there's no-one to take me.  So I curl myself  on a beanbag  with my mobile phone - sending distress flares to the world.
 M'aidez, m'aidez.
Can somebody help me please?

No comments:

Post a Comment