3,355

This is an older post I never put up, for one reason or another. Either way, I found it in my drafts and on the back of a report that states approximately 150 people have been caught using Blue Badges, usually friends or family, illegally, I think a revision of the subject is perhaps in order. (Cheap lazy blogging FTW, the italic part is from the original post, posted on 5/11/15. Two whole years, no ones going to notice!)    

So, I have most likely stated that I do not get any benefits as I am too fit. I am very grateful that I am fit enough to be able to work and not require state support. However, occasionally I like to play the game of "am I entitled" (spoiler alert, I never am).

Every time I drive past a bank of disabled parking, I do wonder if I could get a Blue Badge (for anyone not in the UK, a disability pass). I decided to try my luck. NONE of the criteria apply to me, as I can walk fair distances and I don't have a carer.

As an aside, a rep brought pedometers (seriously, hows that for a name?) in for the staff. The title of the post is the amount of steps I took between 12:45 and 22:00 today.


About the Blue Badges, the use of one, for me, would be a perk, if you get such a thing with disability. I walk for Ireland in work, usually try not to run and get to sit down occasionally, so a chance to park close to a shop entrance or car park stairwell is simply laziness on my part. There's a legion of wheelchair users or others who need crutches to get around (or the million of other reason easy access parking is a key to giving someone independence) who will benefit from one more free wheelchair space, especially when they are at a premium. I already feel like a fraud enough without using a badge to take the one space outside my local shops that'll cut my walk time from stopping to the chocolate aisle.

I was able to walk, albeit with a stumbling unco-ordinated gait, and the utter destruction of my shoes, before I got my lovely orthotics. They don't eliminate my toe drag entirely but they certainly correct a lot, including my leg co-ordination. My right leg, even outside of supports, doesn't swing out to help support and I don't stoop, throwing my body forward to drag my legs after me. Why am I waxing lyrical about them again now? Its because I'm unimaginative and have nothing interesting to talk about, and today is two years since I got them. Sure, they've been modded and, as you know if you have begun following again the reason I have started this blog, recently had a refrub, including brand new strapping and padding.  They have ached more recently, and marked my feet, or in the case of my left foot, cut a nice little hole, but thats because I'm an idiot and didn't realise the ALL the strapping had been renewed, which makes sense. If one snaps, then the others are at risk of being compromised and its worth the extra twenty minutes of work to give them two more years of life. And in that life, keep my legs together and prevent my leeching more money from the NHS.

I do miss being able to make physio have to lie down by watching me walk, but that's the price to pay for being able to buy decent shoes and have semi silent running (I've noted that since the refurb they no longer click so I can now sneak around like a T-rex in a toy soldiers exbit). They feel like second skin, and being out and about without them feels like nudity. There have been days when I have peeled the legs and my socks off and it genuinely feels like im down to exposed muscle, its a very weird.

So, onto my guilty addendum to this little update on my new pals. Shoes (SURPRISE you thought it would be something else, didn't you!). I buy Doc Martens for work. Doc Martens have a policy of replacing shoes that wear out too fast. The orthotics have eliminated MOST of the toe drag, true, but not all of it and shoes do wear down, within about six month.
Receipt in hand, I get new shoes. I can't feel that it's just a little cheeky: "Hey, I'm physically built in such a way that I end up with my toes poking out of the shoes, let me take advantage of your very generous policy". Even without the receipt, I've had replacements. It's a little conflicting. Free shoes but taking advantage of generous returns policy/ its a big corporation it won't hurt them, grab what you can.
Yes, I am aware that plenty of corporations (and some people) see us as walking wallets that use up valuable resources and don't give them enough money, but that the same time morals and values are shared and spread by doing to others. Ok so a little gullible to think that me having a minor moral conflict about using a company policy to my benefit while there's bigger issues out in the world but seriously, I am allowed to indulge my humanity. I'm a cold, uncaring creature anyway, so it's nice when I get a spike of guilt, because mostly I need to physically think, remind myself, that empathy is a thing and I should be using it (about ten seconds after I've missed the cue to engage empathy and be nice, so it seems I'm clawing back to the "I'm a kind, thoughtful, regular human under this mask" position). I covet those feelings, commandments be damned, and it's a very weird pleasure to feel the overwhelming guilt that I cram back down, that never reaches my face, that never shows the world its little face (there's the occasional smile, when I KNOW I'm caught, but it lets me slip from peoples grasp, melting their ire).

Do I continue the free shoe bonanza? Yes, as long as I buy a new pair too, some \doc \marten shoes are too pretty to wear, honestly.

Will there be ore moral preaching? Of course, I'm a judgemental cynical ass hole, of course I'm going to dig through my morals and take pleasure in picking apart my Aspy traits.

Sleep tight.

Check out the Aspy Journey Reloaded on Facebook and the @AspyJourneyReload on Twitter for updates and random articles. Come by and say HI!

Reasons for returns

So last week, I rather lazily announonced that resolution one of the new year was restart the blog. Oh God how I regret that now, with the sheer empty headedness that comes from not having anything to say.

Well, it's said you should write and see what comes out, a bit like when you up your hand over your mouth when you're afraid that if you open it the truth will fall out. So let's start with a story.

First week of the new year, I was running the department, rather than just being a lazy slacker as always. This involved both office work (yawn) and being on the production floor. Two hours into my day shift on the floor and I feel something give in my left shoe. Hobble to the work station and get shoe off. My left foot strap on my orthotic had snapped where the bolt connected to the foot plate. 

Fantastic.

I have no shoes that fit my feet as I go up a shoe size to fit the orthotics, I can't spend another ten hours on my feet trusting my shoe to hold everything together, and I certainly can't go home (OK, that did cross my mind, I'll admit, the thoughts of a soft sweet bed, all ready for me to fall back into, but then I've survived long enough in the work environment and life without the plastic supports, and I'll be damned if a little damage is going to make me a helpless cripple now). Kiwi, my Oz colleague, throws gaffer tape at me. Only one thing to do now.

So I bind the orthotic, strap and all, together over my foot, get my shoe back on and get moving. To say the new hire was a little aghast is perhaps an understatement but he laughed as I hobbled back out onto the floor.

So, with one broken orthotic I can't go on indefinitely, I need to call for repairs. Taking a break, I rang orthotics in QMC (Nottingham) who booked me nine am the next morning for repair. I jog round to the general manager and let him know. I'll be in to do essential office work but I must be in QMC for nine. He was fantastic, checked I was ok to continue and told me if there was any issues I could go immediately. 

Things get better: arrived to QMC for repair, they took my legs with a smile and told me about forty five minutes. Time for a hot chocolate in the cafe. Now, I should explain I wear three piece suits when I'm doing office work. I feel that dressing up shows respect for the role, fellow managers and the staff. Also doesn't hurt I look human in a suit. Three times in QMC I got asked if I was a consultant. Now I have no medical knowledge or skills, so an apologetic "no" was all I could give.

Forty minutes later, warm from tasty hot chocolate, I arrive back to be handed orthotics that had not just had a strap repaired but had all four straps replaced, and new padding both lining the joints and in the straps. It was a full service and over hall, I'm now whisper quiet when I move (they'd taken to clicking at the hinge joint when I walked). It was like getting an only car that's had a full over haul.

So, I've been wearing them for a week and I've hit the down side, new straps eat into my feet, but it's a small price to break them back in. I also bought socks of various types to go with my refurbed legs.

So why restart the blog? To impress people and measure my self worth through page views......

I joke, mostly, but I thought maybe this journey isn't over. It will never be over. And I think the blog was beginning to touch subjects and ideas that could be greatly expanded. 

So, a minor mishap to start a blog.

Until next time, silent tread.

P.s. I've started a linked Facebook page: The Aspy Journey Reloaded

P.p.s: there is now also a Twitter @theaspyjourneyreload.

Follow those for photos, links to other sites, watch me fail to understand Twitter (I might read Trump Tweets to see how it works, I understand it s about being a big baby)!

New shoes.

So I promised a future of shoe shopping. I'm not a fan of shopping in general. In, buy, done, home. Or if I'm feeling really lazy, online, receive parcel, realise it's wrong, lose it, find it, send it back, receive refund, go to store.

The recent change in my foot size, due to the orthotics, has meant that I've needed both new work and casual shoes. Previously, shoes have lasted about a month, as I toe strike rather than heel strike, taking the toe out and letting everything in. This has meant that cheap, non brand running shoes where my best buy, meaning that my outgoing on shoes was balanced with how often I had to replace shoes.

So on Thursday I went decent shoe shopping. My manager recommended Dr Martens for work. I duly went to my local outlet and got some of the best customer service. The sales assistant was patient, understanding, sympathetic and sensitive. She got me four or five pairs of shoes and boots. Due to my Poland syndrome (and I'm using my common sense and experience here because it hasn't been said by a health care professional) my right foot is slightly smaller than my left (my Polands manifests on my right), thus adding to my shoe difficultly. The sales assistant picked the perfect shoes, and they fit excellently. They came today and I'm going to start wearing them tomorrow, with my orthotics.

For years I've had my eye on a pair of crimson runners. I found them in a local shoe shop and they too fit perfectly. I've avoided buying these shoes because of the expense and the longevity I would have with them. I decided to treat myself, hoping my new corrected walk would tackle my toe strike (it is) and therefore I might get more out of them.

I have a thing for boots (who's giggling?). I have a favourite pair of oxblood boots, pictured below, and I'm going to hope they fit with orthotics. I've had them repaired with expensive carbon rubber toes to try and get more out of them. Here's hoping the orthotics do that job. In my misguided youth I wore shin high boots (rocky type ones), and I did wonder out loud during my shopping spree (it counts as a spree, I bought a suit too) if my boots had helped either hide or support my tone less muscles.

Meanwhile, boot shopping may be off the menu.

Mini freak outs

So, I may have previously said I don't suffer meltdowns as they are typically pictured that aspies have, generally over what might be seen as minor or insignificant things. Turns out, I might have been lying about that without realising it, which makes it a lie of omission and as we all know the sin of omission isn't the worst (*nods vigorously*).

I had what I consider in hindsight to be a well controlled melt down in work. In the most basic sense I lost my temper when another department decided to do something out of order (as in list order) and didn't warn me. I had dutifully walked down to the other department to finalise some business and found that the paperwork in question was now on my desk, delaying me and knocking my tight schedule. I may have at this point felt the fire I usually get in my arms and legs when I feel my choler rising, kept back up the stairs two at a time, and enjoyed a half hours tunnel visit and gritted teethed grumbling. 

I can cope with changes to orders, I generally anticipate change and try to take the long view but some times, occasionally, I won't be given a quick heads up when there's a change (how hard is it to give two minutes notice?) and it messes with my hour plan. In that I need to adapt and change, something I consider myself fairly decent at, but for five minutes it is best to let me reorder my head and not try to interrupt my new game plan.

This realisation explains a number of things. It explains why yesterday I had an attack of creeping paranoia, why I felt drained after work, and why I ended up coming home and sleeping the afternoon away (the fact that I've had a sleepless night has nothing to do with that, I'm sure). I also clearly didn't reorder my head properly as work called me back to complete a task I had left. Walked back to work and sorted that (fortunately I hadn't taken my legs off, so it wasn't hassle). 

I think that every day is a lesson, whether you realise it or not. Lesson from today is one I should learn repeatedly, and that is to double check my work before going off shift. I isn't always easy, one of the girls hugged me before she left and said I looked grumpy, which is fair as I was annoyed at myself for snapping at a member of the afternoon team. I did apologise and the girls are understanding. Double checking can be a pain but it means that if my head is not fully ordered, I am at least ensuring that nothing is missed, even if it takes a little longer to get away.

My final realisation is something I really hadn't thought about. I ran up stairs in my new legs. I took two steps at a time even, without thinking, tripping or falling. Ok, so I was out of puff after two flights but still. At the moment I'm about as graceful as a baby deer on ice going down stairs, with handrails being the greatest invention ever and until to day I felt like a Dalek approaching stairs when ascending was required (yeah yeah, convenient plot device, they can fly now), with plenty of tripping and swearing (quietly).

I guess you lean something new every day.....

Orthotics review.

So, with everyone jumping on the vaccines cause autism bandwagon again, I am trying to compose a thoughtful and fact checked post about it, you know, to jump all over that bandwagon until the cymbals fall off.

In the mean time, I managed to bag me a review of lefty (why can't it be more like righty, that's snug and not wearing a hole in my ankle?) this morning. The orthotasit (?) was really patient. She took a long look, and sent lefty off for melting into a more pleasing shape.

To stop my ankle joint eating my trousers, apparently socks should be worn outside my orthotics. I'm not cool enough for that, so I'll have to just keep an eye on my ankle biters.

Equally to prevent sweaty legs (it's very sexy) the long sock, recommended by Robb Brydon on Qi, to help soak up sweat.

A fellow patient told me they put a sock right up over the top of the orthotic to prevent chaffing.

The department took my strap pad measurements so when they wear out, they can post me more.

Looks like I'm in for some fun experimenting.

Better get researching.

The rub.

So, it's been just over a week since I got fitted for the orthotics. I've been warned to watch for redness that doesn't fade.

I've noticed blanching redness under my ankle bone on my left foot. Now, full disclosure, I've probably been wearing them a bit more than I should be. It looked like it was blistering today but it seems to have gone back to angry red.

I grabbed some silicone strips and tried to protect my foot but it didn't last and I ended up taking them off halfway through my (14 hour) shift. I thankfully haven't thrown away any old shoes yet, so I was able to plod along in my old shoes without damaging the new ones.

Pressure sores are very much what they sound like, also known as bed sores. They are generally associated with the elderly due to reduced mobility. However reduced mobility can happen to anyone, from spinal injuries to anyone who spends too long on a theatre table. In my case, it's sheer force and pressure from the orthotics. While there are many different tools to help alleviate pressure, like those mattresses or cushions, or the silicon I grabbed in work, the best way to deal with pressure damage is to remove the pressure. People get walked and stood or turned to take the pressure away and I think that'll have to be my tactic over the next few days.

I'm going to minimise my use of my legs over the next few days and ring the department on Monday and have a review.

Goodnight.

Orthotics day 1

So I've had the orthotics for just over a day now and I've worn them for approximately 8 hours, including four hours in work.

Aside from the fact that my shoes are all too small, they are comfortable and I am learning how to do stairs with them. My colleagues, again, have been amazing and supportive.

I'm not sure if my work shoes are too tight but the heel foam has already flaked off. I rang the department and I'm due back on Friday. I think they said they sell shoes too, so I might enquire about that.

New legs

What's this, two posts in one week? And on consecutive days no less. It must be bizarro world.

Anyway, the long wait for new legs is over. I dutifully got to my appointment this morning and got fitted with these babies.

They even have an ankle joint, but on the down side they limit my ability to crouch and kneel. From the back they look like some medieval style armour.

I'm to wear them an hour a day and gradually increase the duration, so immediately I wore them for two hours, after which everything below my knee hurt. They are snug. Getting into shoes is the next challenge, and I see shoe shopping in my future.

There'll be a review, and I'll try to update regularly.

For now, have a good one.

The cost.

Mobile upload time again!

A friend posted on Facebook recently about having to do a test for a learning disability for university exam. So far, so reasonable. Tests allow for measuring support, what adjustments are required and the quantifying of the "severity" of the disability.

The kicker?

They are being asked to pay  £100 for the test.

Paying is nothing new. I'm sure my parents forked out a small fortune to get me tested and reviewed. In university, I'm sure if I'd actually engaged with the disability support service, it would have cost me money (I know, cos I read it in the leaflet). As it so happens, after my teen years, and years of schooling in which I was "labeled" disabled, I decided I wasn't going to engage with disability services. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and this time around I am engaging and it's fantastic.

But I digest.

After losing my job in London, I had a scheduled test with an educational psychologist. (Better late than never). It cost me £600. A friend gifted it to me.

Given the following events in my life, best £600 I ever spent. It gave me an answer to managers in London, it gave me a road map for the following years and made for an easier life.

But still, it's locked behind a pay wall. I'm assured there are grants and charities that can help but if money is an issue, then gaining support can be hard.

My CP is a medical condition and therefore was covered by the Nhs. Even my orthotics are on the Nhs. (Made locally, so I'm supporting local business.)

Money does make the world turn. Modern gaming involves pay walls. Health care should not be locked behind a pay wall, but sorry, as the new corporate St John Ambulance prove, there's money to be made.

Splints update

Ha time for more mobile shenanigans with autocorrelation and format issues.

So last time I was going to my local friendly hospital for fitting.

I managed not to get lost and to be an hour early.

The service was efficient and friendly, measuring involved being cast. Apparently I can't have purple as it's only for children. Boo for being an adult.

They'll be ready end of January. Yay bionic legs.

Unnecessarily nervous.

So today is my early Christmas present of orthotics fitting. It's at nine am at my local hospital so I'm up early to make sure my feet are as presentable as possible before they get looked at and measured.

I'm really nervous for some reason, and I'm not sure why. Naughty me hasn't been to physio in two weeks due to manflu and I only went back to work on Saturday and that took it out of me. I still have no appetite or proper taste. Pigs in blankets for breakfast tasted awful.

I'll update later, maybe with a photo if the orthotics are off the shelf but I really must ring physio to get back on schedule with that.

Also I've lost a cap on my front tooth, so I look more like a hobo with beard and a curved front tooth. My dreams of being Santa are slipping away.

Talk laters 

Physio

So I had my second round of physio yesterday. I've a lovely student called Sarah who seems out to cause me help and harm in equal measure. They totally deserve the title pyhsioterrorist. So last weeks post was more a disappointing test of mobile phone blogger (misspellings and an aimless post prove it was junk and only for live blog the agony). 

So first round of physio focused on the usual assessment, supposed information gather forms that are actually revenue capture methods and some basic sit to stand work, which I can't do at home because all my chairs and sofa are lounge types that don't make you sit like your back in school.

Also due to forgetfulness (read laziness) I am having physio twice a week to try to get some progress. 

This week, after last weeks easy lure, started with some pelvic thrust motions that where only faintly embarrassing while sitting but became hilarious when Sarah got me on the bed and felt my pelvic muscles while I did the pelvic thrusts into the air. The motion is to help me stand without having to swing my arms, but all I could think was "don't fart" as that really would have lowered the tone. Why is it when in such delicate positions your lower bowels decide its music time? I am however a master of my bowels (for the moment) and wind did not come to pass. 

The next trick was to suck in my gut to tense my abdo muscles. This is to give me central balance for walking and involved me sucking in and up on my gut (I'm fairly svelt in that position). This has the disaster that my diaphragm couldn't expand, causing me to hold my breath. Sarah decided this was the point to remind me to breath. Lady physio, I would love to, but currently you're crushing my gut into my lungs and I can't do two things at once anyway. Oh good, I need to because I should be tensing those muscles while I walk. I thought it was made clear in the Magna Carta or something that men can do no more than one task at once. I am though reliably informed by a friend who does dance that this pelvic muscle give gents moves in the bedroom (ladies). Of course, it would help if I could breath on my way to said bedroom.

Finally we did some calf streches to stop the uncontrolled judder my legs suffer when I lower my heal to the ground. I wasn't previously aware of the horrific pain that could be cause when a physio digs their fingers into the top branches of a calf muscle and pull either direction while you lower you leg but I shall be writing to The Hague to see if the Geneva convention says anything about this vile torture. Not ashamed that at this point Sarah may have heard the crack she was a terrorist more than once, but only after I corrected her hand grip to match her supervising physio. The fact I managed to walk home is perhaps a miracle.

Oman side note, everyone I tell I'm getting orthotics makes an ouch sound and gives me sympathy. One girl asked it they would be screwed into my legs. I hope not, I like my legs how they are. Also, no word on if I will have them for Christmas, I'll be feeling all kinds of festive with those things bending my feet into position........