Julie Helen: My legs don't make me a good wife, my heart and mind certainly do!

DAVID had to do a stint in hospital recently. He’s fine but, as always, I learned a few things along the way, particularly as a disabled person trying to navigate the whole situation. When he was admitted, I drove him into the hospital and let him off at the door while I found a parking space, I had to do a few laps to secure one and a woman stood in a space for me while I completed one of the laps to get the right angle to park successfully. She had seen we were both disabled and felt we had enough to be dealing with, “sure God help us!”

This lady meant so well and was really helping me, the “sure God help us” comment was the only fly in the ointment, so I sucked it up and got on with it. I had no time for “sure God help us”, I had a husband to follow and support so I pulled my wheelchair out of the car and went about my business.

After his admission, we had to follow the member of staff to the ward where he would stay. I wanted her to ask David if he would be OK to walk the distance, or at least give us some sort of idea of how far we would have to go. Being the annoying wife that I am, I spoke up and asked David if he was alright walking as he pushed me in my wheelchair. Sometimes he finds it handy to lean on.

When we got to the room, I was well aware of how things looked. It looked like David was minding me rather than me minding him.

We got him settled in the room and after a while a nurse came and started doing all the history and asking every question under the sun. In all my experience of hospitals, with my brother Diarmuid, and David too, the once or twice he has been there with me, I firmly believe nobody should ever be on their own when they are admitted to hospital and have to answer all manner of questions when they feel unwell. It is impossible to remember important details yourself or to have any kind of perspective in that sort of state.

I made no secret with the nurse that I was helping advocate for David and I rowed in heavily wherever I needed to. 

Everybody needs support in different ways and sometimes it takes someone who knows the patient well to be able to highlight key information.

Before long, a consultant swished in the door and looked me up and down and asked me why I was in the patient’s wheelchair. He had seen David’s chart and perhaps assumed he had a wheelchair and that I was just a tagalong messer! I was a bit dumbfounded and stumbled over explaining how the chair was my own, that I had cerebral palsy too. He then said “how did that happen”? I think he thought we were siblings and followed quickly with… “And you are?”, as if to check himself. I gruffly answered: “His wife”, gesturing towards the sparkly rings which have lived on my left hand for eight years.

 He actually apologised in the next breath, realising he shouldn’t have made any assumptions about us. I have every right to be by my husband’s side, regardless of me being disabled or not!

Disability is never the whole story, and quite frankly, medical professionals should know better. My legs don’t make me a good wife, my heart and mind certainly do!