44. I'm Going To Cut Off My Hair

Well, I've ordered the electric wheelchair, and the SaeboGlove has been approved and dispatched. They should both arrive next week. The Botox in my arm has worked well. My hand has the same grip and movement without becoming flaccid. My dad and I have practiced walking down the stairs everyday this week, and I have been using the treadmill a lot with the physio assistant. (This is a rehab treadmill by the way, which goes nice and slowly. Not jogging yet.)

My dad and I also had a fruitful trip up to Sheffield. Yes, my plans are all on track for going back. We visited a private physiotherapy clinic I am planning to go to. I think they were worried that their facilities weren't neuro-specific enough for me, but then saw my level and said I'd be more than welcome to come to them next month. To be honest, it would be nice to leave brain injury land behind. I also re-registered back at my university GP. We could organise NHS community physiotherapy through them, but I've been told to seek it privately to be on the safe side. No danger of waiting lists.

After seeing some friends for lunch, we saw my accommodation again. It's a university flat of 6 returning students. The front door already has a push button opening, because of the girl living there who already uses an electric wheelchair. I can get my room door open myself, yay. When I viewed it this week, it was to advise them about where to put in grab-rails in the bathroom. I've been given the room because it has an ensuite wetroom. It's a bit bigger than my wetroom at the moment, but walking around it looks potentially easier, once the rails are in. We also viewed the on-site private gym. It has a swimming pool with a hoist, which is ideal. The physio also told me they can come with me to look at which of the equipment is appropriate for me to use.

Finally, we met my social worker, and an occupational therapist. She said she could source a self-propelling commode for my bathroom. The hard part is working out how I'm going to be fed. My friend Anna is down to live with me, but I don't think you can hire someone you live with to make food. We could just call her my carer, as it makes so much sense for us to eat together, but I hardly need care. I could cook with her. I just ordered loads of one handed cooking aids; I'm ready to help! Also, I have the feeling my church community will be keen. I already used to eat with other people once or twice a week when I was at university before. Lots of people are looking out for me. Plus, I have have other friends returning from years abroad. I know I'm not going to starve.

The debate with my social worker is getting someone to supervise my morning routine, as it rings alarm bells, a disabled person in a new environment walking alone in a bathroom. In theory, supervision makes sense, but in practice, I know it will feel a bit silly. Someone would have to come into my room in the morning, stand outside the room whilst I showered and got dressed, then go. This only takes about 20 minutes. I know, it wouldn't have to be for long. Currently, Becca has just changed my care plan to say I can walk in the bathroom with regular staff. By a month, I think I'll be more than ready. All that really limits my independence is having to ask someone to tie up my hair. I'm going to cut it off.

The atrium of the social services building felt a bit like an airport.