13. We're Not Twins

I was talking to a friend about our experiences of disability and Christianity after discussing the BBC's article 'Stop Trying To 'Heal' Me'. When I was in church on Sunday, someone did come over and pray for my hand uninvited. To be honest, I don't mind being prayed for, but it was a bit of startling, especially as I don't go to church to focus on myself. I probably would have been annoyed if my hand had always been inanimate, but it is getting better. As they say at Tesco's, 'Every little helps'. I am actually relieved it hasn't been miraculously healed, as I feel like God is showing me the process because he knows I can handle it. Suffering produces character and all that. I'm sure I'd feel different if I was in pain, but that was only for a few weeks months ago.

In church, a 3 year old wondered past and stopped to lean on my wheelchair's arm-table.
"I like this! What's it for?"
"For my arm"
"Why?"
"It doesn't work."
"Why?"
Good question. It's what we're all wondering.

My arm has been getting a lot stronger. My fingers aren't strong enough to grasp and flex out, but they can curl in and out a bit. My dad restrung an old guitar to be left handed so my right hand can start learning chords, and left hand can learn to strum. I can't really make proper sounds yet, but, early days.

Today I took part in an aerobics-style balance class on our gym. I find normal exercise classes hard to take seriously, so taking part with 5 untalkative 40/50 year old men, with a very bubbly instructor, whilst your attempts to do the moves are laughable, is undeniably surreal. I know this is what it takes to strengthen my arm, but I wasn't prepared for how amusing it would be. One of the men kept playing the 'Safety Dance' song. It's been in my head all day.

I was told to go and get myself some sturdy shoes with good ankle support. We went to the shop and I got myself some boxing boots. We have applied for a blue badge but haven't even got it yet. Joanna and I had our first experience of the pains of traveling with a wheelchair as we waited in the drizzle by the only free disabled parking space in a packed car park, so my dad could pull up the car to load in the wheelchair. Of course, someone swooped in without a blue badge, and a gaggle of excitable women clambered out and dashed into Primark, in front of our open mouths.

In the shop the quiet cashier had burst out with, "Are you twins?" We laughed resignedly and my dad explained that Joanna and I get that a lot. Possibly by every staff member who has met us in the last year. The other day when Joanna was leaving someone stared at her blankly and after a while said, "You're leaving?" When she realised that I wasn't, in fact, walking miraculously out, she exclaimed loudly for a while then said, "You look too similar!" I mean, how dare we not be twins.

Ba-ding!