I cannot fault their customer service or the assessor who bought a number of demo chairs to my home to try prior to purchase. He was very knowledgeable, patient and not at all pushy (as some sales rep’s can be).
However, I find the quality of the armrest pads to be extremely poor.
As you will see from the image below, to replace them will cost an additional £83.40 – a rather hefty sum to replace an item on a relatively new powered wheelchair!
I am reluctant to pay the £83.40 to replace the armrest pads, particularly as they are likely to disintegrate again within a few months. In the meantime, I am left with an unsightly product that is literally falling to pieces.
Wealden Rehab Equipment Specialists share the benefits
of having an Occupational Therapist in the team
Care equipment specialist Wealden Rehab works alongside in-house and external qualified occupational therapists (OTs).
Our in-house OT, Gayle Cardwell has 20 years experience, benefiting the team with clinical skills that can
be transferred into private practice. The collaboration between care equipment
providers and clinical experts results in a truly personal service.
Gayle offers her knowledge and understanding of both mental and physical health and wellbeing to the product advisors at Wealden Rehab, emphasising the importance of a personal approach being necessary to achieve the best
Assessing each client holistically encompasses the environmental considerations, which improve solutions for installation of ceiling hoists and
more detailed clinical considerations for seating.
Upon prescribing a piece of equipment, the occupational therapist must clearly show their clinical consideration. Gayle has devised and shared documents to encourage clinical reasoning when prescribing Wealden Rehab’s most popular
products. The documents are aimed at prescribing OT’s to consider the individual, environment, the task and to help justify the most appropriate outcome for the end user.
Gayle has provided a rigorous training program for all of Wealden Rehab’s product advisors, through individual and group training sessions. Her ongoing program is designed to enhance the assessments and the training they offer to their customers, which brings extra value.
Wealden Rehab recognise the
significance of having an OT in the team and a clinical approach in devising and delivering training for OT customers when prescribing Wealden Rehab products. We have observed increased confidence, greater understanding from OT’s in the
set-up and recommendation of our products, resulting in improving the end users
In the future, Wealden Rehab will be adding to the range
of products and, with specialist input, Gayle will be able to critique and share her clinical knowledge regarding new products. This will surely have an impact on the quality of life of many users, which is, Gayle says, ‘At the heart of
everything we do.’
This is not to say that the disability/impairment, whether temporary or permanent, is the primary cause of the mental health issue. It could be a contributing factor, or they may be completely unrelated. You might just be super lucky and have been blessed with both – Double whammy!
Equally, those struggling with their mental health will often (if not always) experience physical side effects, such as headaches, fatigue, insomnia, restlessness, nausea and chest pains.
Essentially, what I’m saying is, the mind affects the body and so the body affects the mind.
My Disability & Point of View
I was born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy – a physical disability – that has progressed over time. I am now a non-ambulatory wheelchair-user, having lost the ability to walk at age 10.
My condition has a considerable effect on my body and physical capabilities. With the best will in the world, there are many things I cannot do.
For example, my older brother is very fit and able-bodied. He has travelled the world and often goes trekking through the countryside and climbing mountains.
I often wish I could be out there with him. It might not be everyone’s cuppa, but it would be nice, just once, to experience that sort of thrill and adrenaline rush. A real physical accomplishment whilst being in the midst of nature.
But, I can’t. And I never will. Of course, this gets me down and impacts on my mood. Yes, I wish I could walk, run, dance, be completely independent and spontaneous. But I can’t. I am limited and reliant on support from others to live my life. This is something I have no choice but to accept.
There is no treatment, no cure, and no pill I can pop to help the situation. For lack of a better phrase, it is very much a case of, deal with it!
I cannot control my disability or how it affects my body. Therefore, it is important to focus on the things I CAN do and control.
I can’t dance, so I like to watch the dancing (yes, I’m a sad, old Strictly fan. Don’t care!)
I can’t drive, so I have a passenger WAV (wheelchair accessible vehicle), which allows me to get out and about.
I can’t walk or run, so I roll (with style)!
Admittedly, I’m pretty crap at sorting my own problems out. So I tend to focus on other people’s 😂 Not necessarily a good thing, but there ya go!
Living with a physical disability is a way of life. It is inflicted on us – we have not chosen this path. Similarly, living with a mental health illness is a way of life. So what you gonna do? ADAPT or Die!
People who know me well often describe me as incredibly private and somewhat closed-off. They’re not wrong. But I have my reasons. That said, I’ve been trying to open up a little more and share a closer insight into my everyday life in recent blog posts.
For me, 2019 really has been a year of major highs and lows.
The summer was genuinely the happiest time of my life. Everyone noticed.
Now, I’m the type to roll their eyes at the mention of people “glowing with happiness”, sceptical old bint that I am, but apparently it is a thing.
I was kinda hoping it would last longer than it did. But hey, that’s life.
Soon after my birthday came a swift punch in the gut (not literally, fear not!) and that marked the beginning of one of the unhappiest periods of my life. These things come to try us!
I’m not going to lie, this past month has been pretty crap.
Yeah, Christmas is a time to celebrate, have fun and be with those you love most. But it can also emphasise and remind you of what you’ve lost. And who you’ve lost.
I have some amazing people around me – family and friends. Thanks to those of you who patiently put up with me being a miserable fecker!
Some have offered wise words and advice, some have made me laugh when I really needed to, and others have simply been there to listen. You lot are what life is about (Ooh, deep!).
Let’s get this year out of the way and I promise, in 2020, I’ll pick myself up and get back to “the old Carol” ~ generally pratting about, laughing at inappropriate things and maybe even smiling occasionally 😱
A final word for anyone struggling for whatever reason…
I don’t want to get too serious. After all, it is Christmas – oh, joy!
Life ain’t all shits and giggles. I really wish it was. But it just isn’t.
Sometimes life gives you lemons (bastard lemons!) So what you gonna do? Throw ‘em back even harder, I say.
I may be pixie-sized but I’m pretty damn defiant. I’ve faced a fair few battles over the years. Truth is, the battle never really ends. But you gotta trudge through. What’s the alternative?
When I was 8 or 9, I fell off a horse. The horse decided she’d had enough of this trotting bullshit, and wanted to play silly buggars. She bolted downhill then stopped abruptly, throwing me forward.
I landed with my arse in a muddy puddle and lost my bloody boot. Yeah, I was a bit shook up. But I could either sit in that puddle and sulk (well, I couldn’t get up and walk off!) or get back in the saddle. So, I got back on psycho Sally!
Point is, life can be a bitch, but you gotta carry on and you gotta help yourself. Find what makes you happy and go for it!
I have a few things lined up for the new year, including some truly thrilling blog posts (I can sense the excitement already!).
Merry Christmas, folks. Take care! See you in the new year.
I was born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy, affecting my body and physicality. I have a severe scoliosis (curvature of the spine) which, for various reasons, is not surgically corrected. This causes asymmetry and a shortened torso. Joint contractures mean I am unable to stretch out my arms or legs. Furthermore, the muscle wasting nature of my condition results in extremely thin limbs.
Now 31, I look very different from other women my age. My pixie-sized stature is emphasised by the scoliosis. In place of womanly curves, are unwanted and abnormally crooked humps and bumps. This visible contrast negatively impacts my sense of self and makes me feel odd, weird, and self-conscious.
I love fashion but fashion doesn’t love me
Over the years, I have desperately sought to hide my body with shapeless, baggy clothes. Anything resembling a potato sack is a winner. I live in leggings because jeans are a no-go and frankly, they are the next best thing to pyjamas!
Clothing manufacturers don’t cater for my body since it doesn’t meet standard criteria. Shopping is not an enjoyable experience. It is a frustrating and disappointing struggle to find anything at all to fit, let alone look flattering. Most of the clothes I buy have to be returned which makes me wonder why I bother at all – well, simply because I can’t roll about naked!
Accepting my unique body
Do I love, embrace and celebrate my unique body shape? Hell, no! BUT – I have slowly and gradually learnt to accept it. After all, there’s absolutely nothing I can do to change it. So why stress myself out over something I cannot control.
Exercise isn’t an option for me. I can’t go to the gym and buff-up. And why should I resort to cosmetic surgery? Why put myself through pain, trauma and financial strain simply to conform to societies high and unrealistic standards of beauty? Okay, it might make me feel more confident to look a little more like the average woman. Then again, it might not…
Societal standards of body beautiful
Our perception of body image and beauty is arguably increasingly influenced by social media, particularly Instagram. Heavily airbrushed, edited and filtered selfies are everywhere to be seen. With a smartphone, we can all look like a celeb from a magazine spread!
But this is misleading, unrealistic and unattainable. I can’t relate to the pouty, posers of Instagram. Honestly, can anyone?!
Diverse bodies are sadly under-represented in the media. This is starting to improve but there is still a long way to go before the presence of disabled bodies on our screens becomes mainstream.
Very few people know that I used to mentor and teach art to primary school children.
I’ve always found it easy to interact with kids. They say it how they see it – no agenda, no bullshit. And I have a very low tolerance for bullshit!
I’d happily take on a room full of kids over a room full of adults, any day!
I mentored one particular lad for about 18 months. He had just turned 8 when I first met him. He came from a deprived area, one of four siblings, his dad was in prison and his mum…well, let’s just say she wasn’t as conscientious as she should or could have been.
Later down the line, his 12 year-old sister accused one of the younger male teachers of indecent assault. Blimey, I remember that day vividly!
The lad, (let’s call him Bob!), was a lovely kid – really polite, always happy to see me (nice to be appreciated, eh).
Bob really struggled with reading and writing. To begin with, he refused to even try. All he wanted to do was play games. Time for negotiation – reading first, then we play games. He would often look up at me to read out the longer words for him. No mate, give it a try first. Break it down and work it out.
Admittedly, the school books were pretty crap, so I bought some more interesting ones to motivate him. He liked dinosaurs and pirates so that’s what we mostly read about.
I had studied art at university and he soon noticed that I could draw. So from then on, every session – “draw me a dinosaur!”, “draw me a pirate!”
Flipping heck, kid! How about you draw me a dinosaur!
In all honesty, I didn’t mind. It was nice to see him enthusiastic about something.
Despite my very obvious disability, in all that time, Bob never once questioned it – not that I would have minded if he did. From the get-go, I was just Caz the mentor.
He questioned everything else, mind you!!
~ How old are you?
~ What do you do?
~ Are you married?
~ Do you have kids?
~ Why not?
~ Where do you live?
~ Who do you live with?
~ Can I see your ID? (Yes, I showed him my ID to which he responded, “THAT’S NOT YOU!”)
~ What’s your real hair colour?
~ Can you dye your hair so I can see it, please??
This morning, I had a conversation with a friend about anxiety. (It’s good to talk, folks!)
We all experience anxiety to some degree. I know I do. I worry about certain situations and often place far too much emphasis on what others think of me. But I’m gradually accepting that these things are out of my control. So why worry?
My friend, (let’s call her Brenda!), was absolutely fine when she got to mine, though her anxiety had flared up earlier causing her to overreact and behave irrationally. As she put it, she “catastrophized”. The fact she’s aware of this is, in itself, a positive sign.
Brenda has various mental health issues resulting from personal trauma. She takes antidepressants, antipsychotics and is undergoing counselling.
For a LONG time she buried her issues and tried to carry on as usual. This culminated in Brenda becoming very ill and unable to cope with everyday life. It was only at this point that she sought medical support and realised that what she was experiencing isn’t “normal”.
I asked Brenda what happened this morning to cause her to overreact. Her parents have bought a wooden toy kitchen for her son, which wasn’t in the plan. It’s a Christmas present Brenda specifically told her mum not to buy. Not a big deal, you might think. So I asked, “why did it bother you so much?”
Control. The situation was taken out of her control and this triggered Brenda’s anxiety.
She worried her son wouldn’t like it.
She worried he would like it too much.
She worried he might be teased/judged for receiving a stereotypically girly toy.
She worried about the cost.
She worried that he would prefer the toy kitchen to the gifts she has bought for him.
She was overthinking the whole situation. But she knows this. So once her anxiety subsided a little, she removed herself from the situation, went home, shut herself away and had a nap. Anxiety is mentally and physically exhausting!
It’s only through therapy and counselling that Brenda is learning to recognise her triggers, symptoms and manage her anxiety. She can better organise her thoughts, respond to her feelings and differentiate between what is real and unreal.
She summed up her anxiety in one simple phrase ~ fear of the unknown. I’d never thought of it this way. But it makes a lot of sense!
But there are also times when my patience is wearing thin. Some days, I’m just not in the mood!
Today is one of those days.
I attended a routine hospital appointment and parked my Motability WAV in a disabled bay, with my blue badge clearly displayed, as usual.
As I reversed out of the WAV, I heard a woman stood directly behind me shouting, “I’m just having a nosey inside!”
*Cue eye-roll* Oh, feck off, lady!
I then waited in a small room crammed full of virally infested patients for well over an hour, only to be told the nurse I was due to see went home sick hours before. Which begs the question – why not inform me of this on arrival?!
I waited a further half an hour to be seen by another nurse. At least it wasn’t a wasted journey, I guess.
Having returned to my car, I was ever-so-slightly pissed off to find a parking ticket!
As soon as I got home, I logged-on to check out the meaning of this fuckery. As I suspected – no reason for issue, no explanation and no photo evidence.
Needless to say, I wrote a strongly worded appeal. Under no circumstances will I be paying this unjustified “parking charge”. No, just no!
I have just turned 31 (sooo old!) and, in order to live my life, I require support from personal carers.
Today, I (well, actually my mother) received the following letter…
Now, don’t you just love it when so-called “professionals” invite themselves to your home to drink your tea and eat your biscuits at a time and date to suit them?
It seems the assumption is that disabled folk just sit at home all day, idly twiddling their thumbs ~ Nah, mate.
Not only that, they failed to inform me and instead wrote to my mother! WTF?!
I know I’m child-sized but I am in fact a fully-functioning adult who manages all aspects of her own care needs.
~ My disability!
~ My carers!
~ My business!
~ My life!!
I wouldn’t mind so much, only I’ve spent months jumping through hoops (not literally, obviously) and answering the most inane questions in order to qualify for NHS CHC (a continuing healthcare package – to pay personal care assistants).
*FYI ~ I am currently in receipt of Direct Payments, enabling me to employ and pay my own carers*
As yet, I haven’t received a penny via CHC, though I did get a call to say an initial payment was made during the summer. Nope, sorry, no it has not!
(Little tip for you ~ when it comes to NHS/council funded care, QUESTION EVERYTHING!)