Tag Archives: Mobility

Refusing To Accept Access Refusals

19 Sunday Oct 2025

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An early childhood memory of mine from the 1980’s, was my mother highlighting yet another “No dogs, except for Guide Dogs” sticker that decorated shop doors we were opening whilst out shopping. My poor mother must have been so tired of me asking if there was another one on each door that we opened, but she always  answered in the same cheery tone. I never thought to tell her I couldn’t see the stickers we were searching for, I just thought she had magical powers to see the unseen.  I was fascinated by the concept of a Guide Dog as a child and was blissfully unaware that I would be privileged enough to be a Guide Dog partner in the future. My sight loss was only discovered at 4 through a school eye test , which later led to the multiple  appointments drenched diagnosis of Marfan Syndrome, but it was initially thought that glasses would be enough to “fix” it. The very nature of bilateral lens subluxation in the eye of a Marfan’s  patient meant that vision constantly changed,  so no amount of glasses would ever fix the problem as the prescription could change so frequently. As a child, however, I never really knew I couldn’t see as my vision loss was all I ever knew, so had nothing to compare it too.

Today, you would think most people are aware of the “No Dogs Except for Assistance Dogs” rule in public places. 40 Years on from my Guide Dog door sticker search, sighted business owners and staff can sometimes be oblivious to the law that they have advertised on their premises, which really baffles me. Access refusals are an  ongoing  problem for  guide dog owners despite publicity and education  around the subject, which has increased in intensity over the last few years. Unfortunately,  over the last nearly 9 years of having a guide dog, I have found myself having to stand up for the right to access public places that sighted people can access without being questioned.  From Taxi refusals (which I got in anyway), shop refusals (which we entered after dropping the “legal ” word), to GP and hospital resistance (who you would think would  to be a little more educated), I will not accept anyone’s ignorance to stop me being where I have a right to be.

The most recent incident was when I went out to meet a friend in a local cafe for lunch. Not thinking twice about my clearly highlighted harnessed guide dog  Stevie being allowed into the restaurant area, we were greeted by a waitress to take is to a table. She informed us that “because  of the dog” we were only allowed in the bar area and not the restaurant area. After a polite reminder that he is “clearly a Guide dog and is allowed in the restaurant area” , I hoped that would be enough to jog her memory of the training that she had hopefully been  given. She responded with “sorry no dogs at all allowed in the restaurant area, so you will stay in the bar”.  One thing I am not is shy is standing up for equal rights for myself and others , so my Aries energy came alive and calmly shot back ” Well as I don’t want you to have a £1,000 fine for not  allowing me and my Guide Dog  access , we will be eating in the restaurant area so could you show us to our table please”.  With stony silence, huffing and puffing, she checked table availability and showed us to a table. The service to me was a little frosty throughout our visit , but the way I see it is that her uneducated ignorance is not my problem.

Handling access refusals is a skill I have learnt to handle  over the years. I have been lucky to be backed up by my beautiful daughters, who have  sometimes helped educate others where needed,  which I will be eternally grateful for. Many guide dog  owners feel less able to stand their ground in such situations, so it is important to know what our rights are and how to habdle refusals in a calm, polite manner and still get your rights met. Here is a quick look at what are our rights and ways to handle access refusals

Guide dog access rights

  • Guide dogs have the right to access most businesses and public areas under the Equality Act 2010.
  • If a taxi driver refuses access, they must be carrying a medical exemption  certificate . Where possible , they should provide an alternative driver.
  • Businesses and public places must make reasonable adjustments to their no dog policy
  • Contact Guide Dogs for help and advice
  • Use an app such as the “Open Doors ” app to report illegal refusals.
  • It is possible to take legal action through courts due to unlawful access refusals. 

Handling refusals correctly.

  • Never be rude, shout or swear
  • Remain calm in the knowledge that you have the backing of the law with you, not against you.
  • The business owner, public representative, may not know the law and is probably not making it a personal thing. This is why it is important to advocate for our rights calmly and in an informative way.
  • When possibly, carry your guide dog partnership ID card or written guidance to show the person you are dealing with.
  • Try not to feel alone, you are not the first person and unfortunately won’t be the last person that this is happening too.
  • Talk it through after the event with a friend, family or appropriate organisation such as Guide Dogs, especially if you did not receive the service.

Not allowing a blind person into a public space is never okay. Refusing us service just because we have sight loss , screams abelism at its finest. Our dogs have been trained for nearly 2 years of their lives to be able to accompany us out in public and are well-behaved working dogs , that allow us to into society that is not innately designed for us. Hopefully, one day, we humans will be as highly trained as our pawesome friends

Cane Shame

09 Sunday Feb 2025

Posted by in White Cane

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Whilst deep in conversation with some other people  with sight loss the other day, the unspoken was timidly spoken. The collectively shared experience was whispered by one brave soul who admitted  ” I was so embarrassed when I had to use my cane, I felt like I would never be seen the same again”.  With a conveyer belt of “me too” passing through the air, it was clear to hear the unity of the people around me all being part of the cane shame gang.

White cane usage is a bit like marmite consumers where you either love it or hate it, from past experience a lot of people belong to the more negative side where although they may not hate it (as it keeps them safely mobile), they would not choose  to talk excitedly about it and willingly show it off to others at any given opportunity.  Apart from the odd dog who loves to chase the ball at the end of the cane whilst out walking, nobody has even complemented me or anyone I know on the aluminium tubing, rubber or plastic that sits reluctantly in my right hand. Beauty may not be its strong point, but semi safety is. I say semi safety as since Munch has retired, whilst it has kept me mainly upright (always a bonus), I have had a few bumps, cuts and bruises but all has been good in general.

When I started using a white cane, it felt wrong on so many different levels. Having had sight loss from birth , I just got around the world by listening to my surroundings, learning from trips and falls that there were obstacles, and keeping multiple mind maps open in my mind to where I needed to go. Counting steps between locations  and listening to where walls end may sound bizarre to sighted people , but to anyone with sight loss from birth, it is common sense. Growing up in the 1980s, there was so little help on offer, so I never really asked.  Therefore, learning to put some of this orientation mastery  on hold to trust in a white cane felt like a huge step backwards. Not a direction I ever go in.

I first was offered white cane training back in 2004 after I had another failed eye operation, which worsened my sight even more. I remember meeting the visual impairement officer (ROVI) in a car park in a nearby town to try out what it would be like. Let’s just say it was dislike at first sight. We didn’t gel, and we got off on the wrong foot due to my stubbornness as it tried to temp me into friendship as it glided with perfection sweeping the way in front of me. I was definitely the problem, not the cane. I never gave it a chance due to the pride I refused to swallow. In my defence, it seemed more of a hindrance than a help, as I puzzled how I was meant to use it when out and about with 4 children under the age of 6. Pushing a double buggy and holding hands of a 5 – and 6 year old walking alongside me meant my hands were a little full. A cane would have just been impossible to manage as well and pointless . I politely declined the offer of my new elastic corded snappy, sectioned white cane friend and decided to go it alone.

We remained out of each other’s lives until around 9 years ago,  where we reacquainted as part of the mobility assessment for a Guide Dog. Again, it was through gritted teeth that I applied for a Guide Dog as I felt I was fine without any help. My body was in strong disagreement as it threw many a tantrum,  deciding to dislocate my knee on multiple occasions,  break some bones, and cause some weird and wonderful injuries as I fell and bumped into things. Pride swallowed, popping its handle in my right hand, we began accompanying each other’s out in public. My embarrassment in it mirrored back at me as I tapped a few feet and objects in my path. If canes could blush in embarrassment, it would have shone scarlet at the incompetence of its new handler. A natural,  I was not.

When I was matched with Munch, I reduced my cane usage significantly, only using it sporadically.  When he was having free runs,  I would rely on it to help get around safely, but as soon as he was back on harness, I would snap it shut. There is something so satisfying about the sound of folding the four sections of the cane as each  section closes down to a compact companion.  Since Munch has retired, my compact companion has clicked into action on a daily basis, and we get on better than we ever have. Aside from nearly spearing a few organs out of people who have the unfortunate fate of walking behind me when my cane tip gets caught in something on the ground, we work pretty well together. My stubbornness has mellowed a little over the years , and although I may never become a white cane enthusiast,  I respect it more than I ever have.

Cane Shame can be soul destroying for some, as they learn to cope with their changing identity from the sighted to the sight loss world.  For every proud white cane user, there will be many who resent that onlookers will see the cane before they see them. From children who have not long learned to walk to  people who are  in their golden years, the white cane rests in many hands. Each of these hands will be seeking stillness in motion,  as they navigate through life at their own pace,  in their own unique way.

Long Cane Complaints

11 Sunday Aug 2024

Posted by in Guide Dog

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Walking 55 miles in 5 days, pretty easy.

Walking 55 miles in 5 days with a long cane , ……. not so easy.

I am lucky to say, walking has never really been a challenge for me. Growing up, my parents never drove,  so we either caught a bus or walked. Having been born with sight loss, I have obviously never had the opportunity to drive, which has never really bothered me. Walking, therefore, has always been my constant in getting around. Doing the recent sponsered walk did, however, have its challenges.

In hindsight,  I could have offered my local council to carry out a survey, counting how many potholes, broken paving stones , raised drains,  and chipped pavements there were in the local area. I wouldn’t have minded either, to alert them of all the overhung branches and brambles that sought a botanical cuddle buddy,  from passing pavement users every few yards. Going through 2 roller ball tips on our travels,  my cane must have felt a little battered and, at times, underappreciated by me as a let out an occasional swear word or two.

Don’t get me wrong, I really do appreciate the use of a long cane to keep me safe as I steam ahead on my travels , but they do have their limits. Now, I am unsure if it is my  innate  cack-handed way of being (probable), or a design fault in these great  independent aides (unlikely) , but I have been known to be a danger to society with one, I have been known to almost spear out an organ or two of a person walking behind me when I stop  dead,  as my roller ball takes a break in a dip in the ground. My daughter has vowed never to walk behind me again after nearly losing  her appendix on more than one occasion in this very way. Either that, or I resemble a pole vaulter as my body jolts into threated flying action as my swift pace stops abruptly as my roller tip ball sulks in a crevice. 

As you can tell, my cane and I,  don’t  get on as well as Munch, and I do. In reality though , I need to turn my frown upside down in relation to this extendable friend if I want to keep living an independent life. The wait for a new Guide Dog has begun, but I am aware it could be quite sometime. I only have 19 weeks left working with my hairy soulmate before he hangs up his harness for retirement.  A day that will be full of  multifaceted emotions, but one that has to come. Working with my long cane will be, in a way, regressive. Working with a Guide Dog allows you to trust in their judgements as they steer  you away from danger, whereas a cane can only highlight the danger when you are right besides it. A cane can not listen to your commands of finding steps, a bin, a cashpoint, a checkout, a door, or numerous other essentials when out and about.

I appreciate now more than ever  the hard work Munch has selflessly gifted me over our years together. Almost eight years ago, I had gone through 39 years of my life getting around with no Guide Dog or cane as I didn’t want to dent my pride. Today, I can not imagine life without a harness covered  furry friend walking by my left side. I am awaiting a mobility assessment with the Guide Dog team as part of the application for a new dog. I need to complete a 40-minute walk with my trusted cane for the assessment. After that, I  will meet the dog team to work through requirements for a new dog.  Ideally, I would love another labradoodle due to their hypoallergenic hair, which suits working in schools, but with only  around 2% of labradoodles as Guide Dogs, the chances are slim.

Giving back to Guide Dogs by fundraising, I feel is the bare minimum I can do to give thanks for their wonderful support they have given over the years. We have raised £1, 070 (42% of the £2,500 target ) in just 10 weeks , with more due in over the next couple of weeks, I am excited when we will  be able to name another Guide Dog puppy after Munch. A huge thank you to all  who have supported us so far. Your kindness makes such a difference to those living with sight loss.

https://www.justgiving.com/page/zena-cooper-1716625977644?newPage=true

The Now Is Good Enough

17 Sunday Mar 2024

Posted by in Guide Dog

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Plodding on seven years later, I often wonder if our little Minster Munch knows that his harness wearing days will not be forever. Our working life together will cease  anytime within the next 21 months when he will have to retire. I, on the other hand, have a mere 21 years until I retire. It is a possibility that I could be matched with 3 more Guide Dogs in my working life, each one bringing their own quirks and perks. 

Revisiting my naivety of what I thought life with a Guide Dog would be like always makes me cackle and cringe in equal measure. Firstly, I thought life changes would be subtle, my Guide Dog would listen at all times, and I would never have  to apologise for our behaviours. Hmmmm, that didn’t go quite to plan. From day one together, everyone noticed the unusual Shetland pony sized Guide Dog that appeared in our relatively small town. Minster Munch made it clear that he only completed his 20 months of training  to be able to become my master and train me into conformity via his cuteness. His behaviour throughout our time together can be categorised anywhere between attention seeking and driven, but always professional when in work mode.

I was asked this week by a 6 year old client if Munch knew if he was a Guide Dog and not a pet dog? I flummoxed an incoherent answer back, stating that “I think he just thinks he is just Munch, and when he puts his harness on, he just does Guide Dog stuff”. On reflection, I think this is truer than I originally thought. Munch, in all honesty believes everyone is his friend (or sometimes staff member), has unconditional love for every species, and is free spirited enough to be in love with living life his own innocent way. A human concept of a dog can never truly honour their ability to innately help and enhance the lives of those around them.

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We are due for a review in the next couple of weeks to see how  our partnership is getting on and how our little Munch is doing in his Guide Dog role. He will be checked over more regularly by the vets from now on to see how his health is doing, and I will be closely monitoring his energy levels and eagerness as he slips into his work harness daily. At the age of nine, his younger doggy friends are beginning to run a little faster than him as his paws pound the ground during free runs, but each day, he still shows up wanting to play. Focusing on the beauty of the now. Munch is being as Munchish as ever, which I am eternally grateful for. Nothing lasts forever, but now is good enough for us

Disabled.  To be or not to be

21 Sunday Jan 2024

Posted by in Disability

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Mention the word disability to ten different people,  and they will all have different opinions on what that means to them and those around them. Some will identify with the word, some will not, some will have ideas about what disability means to them that you had never considered.

Going on one definition of disability , it suggests that disability is “having a physical or mental impairment. The impairement has a substantial and long -term adverse effect on their ability to carry out normal day -to -day activites”. During my time working with children and families over the last 28 years , I have heard people describe minor health inconveniences as disabilities and often wondered where their own definition came from. Others who have had significant adverse health issues that impact every waking moment of their lives, reject the disabled label with passion. The complexity of such a topic is guaranteed to bring up strong opinions either side of the disability line.

The reason for writing this, is as a reflection from a conversation I had with someone who asked if I considered being blind an “actual disability.”.What was interesting was that this comment came from a retired optician, which to me seemed quite comical. Clearly an optician who had used her “good enough” sight during her years of practice to assess patients with sight loss did not not really understand what it would be like to have limited or no sight as a constant companion.  We had a really interesting chat about perception of impact on life of disability and how that differed greatly among individuals. She told me a story about a lady in her 70’s who had failing sight who could no longer shop alone due to not being able to see prices, labels etc and needing to rely on others to do her shopping. The retired optician told me that it was stories like that, that got her emotional in her old job yet she saw me in a different light.

When we chatted about me having sight loss from birth, yet still going through the educational system with no help and still achieving Masters degree level qualifications after  finding alternative ways of doing things, she couldn’t work out how that was possible. When she heard that I was working  a full time and part time job, volunteering,  had written a book, look after my grandchildren  and still live an independent life whilst being registered Severly Sight Impaired (the old blind register) she asked if I thought of myself as actually  disabled? The answer is far from straight forward.

I hate to admit it, but there is quite a lot of things I cannot do in life. I cannot see some cars, let alone drive. I probably wouldn’t be called upon to help recognize  a person in a line-up as I can’t see a person. Becoming a tour guide may not be my strongest career potential either , as I cannot see my surroundings. What I can do however, is do things my way. When I think of words  to describe myself, disabled is not really a word which jumps out at me to be chosen, but in other people eyes , I suppose I am. Being born with Marfan Syndrome has brought about far more disabling complications than being blind has. I have had numerous injuries and reconstructive and other surgeries from life with a connective tissue disorder, yet Marfan Syndrome itself is not a stand alone disability, yet being blind (which is omnipresent but not always an issue) is classed as a disability.

I often forget that I cannot see as I have no alternative frame of reference. Seeing some  blurs and blobs from birth is normal to me. Using sound, methods of elimination, touch and intuition gives me all I need to know about the world. To me, it seems weird that people use their eyes alone to short cut their way to interpreting the world we co-exist  in. So when I am asked if  I have a disability, the rebel in me sometimes wants to resist ticking the box to a label that I don’t always feel I fit in. Other times, I want to proudly wave the flag that disabled people are often the most fiercely amazing people that you will ever meet.

Measuring your disabilities or abilities against  another person’s definition, is not always simple. Sometimes you fit, other times you don’t. What matters to me is what you do with the identification of being disabled.  Personally, I love that it keeps me motivated to find creative ways to meet everyday challenges, and I never have  the chance to get bored. Being born with sight loss into the sighted world, which is not the most welcoming or accommodating, may not be ideal, but it neither has to be impossible.

Visually Impaired Bowls..Again

16 Sunday Apr 2023

Posted by in Disability

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After quite some time away, I decided to go back to play a bit of Visually Impaired Indoor Bowls and ended up getting through to the quarter finals at the Welsh Pairs Tournament. Do you think it’s too late to tell them I still don’t know all the rules of the game?

Playing against some players who have been playing for well over a decade was a great experience as I learnt so much terminology through eavesdropping alone.  I have learnt that a “fire” is something only woods on the green should be scared of, bias is always a good thing to have, and following through is always smiled upon. Who would have thought, eh?

In 2019, I somehow managed to win bronze for Wales in an international tournament despite only playing about 12 times or so before that. My local club play in the week whilst I am in work, so I  only get to play when I am on holidays, so  I can go months between practices, which means that I have totally forgotten how to deliver a bowl by the time I return. For me, I just love going as I am surrounded by people who get what it is like not being able to see as the rest of the world do.

Within the Visually Impaired bowling community, the sighted are the minority group and are the ones directing the bowlers. They are the eyes for us all and the translators between the two worlds. Being among fellow Guide Dog and cane users feels homely where we never have to apologise or explain to others about how we show up in the world as they too can be unashamedly authentically themselves. The sense of belonging is a feeling I will never tire from.

Belonging to the B1 bowlers means I am among fellow severely sighted Impaired bowlers (what was previously categorised as Blind)  who either have no light perception so see just darkness, or have some light perception such as myself but no useful vision. To me, I cannot make out the dark coloured woods on the green as the all merge into one shadowy shade. I cannot see when the wood leaves my hand and I use my ears to  judge if it was a bumpy or smooth delivery and rely on my coach to let me know where it is going. I need to hold the information in my head at all times to try and remember how far my last wood was from the jack and somehow waken my muscle memory to remember how to adjust my next wood. Being blind whilst bowling helps you tune into your body on another level.

Playing against some of the other bowlers who play in the B2, B3 or B4 categories can sometimes feel a little off putting, as although many have differening visual impairements, some use their useful vision to play. Those who can see to the other end of the green and use markings around to help them with their game, may have tunnel vision and such visual disturbances that qualify them to play in a VI team. Playing with mixed ability players is a great experience to help improve my skill level, which I love. The mix of ages within teams is also great, and we currently have an amazing 100 year old gentleman playing with us who plays like a teenager. To some, barriers are just imagined by the faint-hearted

The plan is now to actually begin to understand the game a bit more even though I should already know what I am doing. When you can’t see what goes on around you, you have to keep so much information in your head to help you remember every single detail that the sighted easily access with their eyes. On a plus side , it is really good when I can’t see all the mistakes I make on the green. Sometimes, ignorance can be so bliss.

Time Off For Good Behaviour

03 Wednesday Jul 2019

Posted by in Guide Dog

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Do you promise I only have a few more shifts to go until the holidays?

I know that is what he is thinking as I have been promising him this time off for a long time. The beauty of working in schools is that we have a lot of holidays which suits Munch just fine. He was put on this earth for many things such as giving and receiving an abundance of love, being a constant source of entertainment, training people to pander to his needs but work? ……not so much.

Most of his workday is spent laying around on his bed, client’s feet or in a corner in a huff. When he is not in his horizontal hibernation, he can be found playing with his toys, giving a client his paw to demand attention or doing the dying fly impersonation on the floor to centre all attention around his dramatic display. Keeping all of that in mind, I use the word work in the loosest of terms in relation to Munch.

He is even more excited this year as he has an extra week off than our usual 6 weeks so 7 weeks of off duty fun awaits him. When he will be running around freely on a field somewhere or swimming in a river, I will be slightly out of action with a healing knee after the upcoming operation that is happening in 2 weeks-time. I cannot wait to hear from his dog walkers what mischief he gets up to on his days out.

Everything is planned out to make sure that he has the most fun summer ever. A timetable of fun awaits him whilst I may be stuck indoors for a little while. I have a feeling that as he hangs up his harness for a few weeks he will have no regret, only happiness coursing through his body. I cannot wait to sense how happy he is each time he is brought home with a tired-out body and his bank of joy filled up.

Healing from the operation will be much easier if I know everyone is taken care of. The children are all sorted, and I know will be a great help. Angus and Faith will be happy doing their own cat and tortoise thing, but it is Munch who I have been most concerned about. Will he unlearn his guide dog commands when he is off? Will he have a tantrum when his harness goes back om him in a few weeks? Will he demand new working conditions when he returns to his role when I am more mobile?

I know that even when I am on crutches whilst wearing a Robocopesque leg brace, we will learn to listen to each other and work as partners in our own unique way. Munch is rather a fan of the slower pace of life, so I don’t think my new pace of walking will annoy him too much. A pocket full of treats and lots of fuss and praise may help soften his heart when he returns to a slower pace of work life.

I will keep you all posted on his summer escapades which will no doubt bring a smile or two to your face. The harness free pics will hopefully show his fun off duty summer that he deserves so much. Let the fun begin.

Judge, And You May Need An Umbrella

20 Wednesday Feb 2019

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Call me pedantic but I really didn’t fancy getting my foot wedged down the toilet again.
After last year’s faux pas of attempting to delicately step over Munch in the toilet cubical and ending up slipping and dipping my toes into what I hoped was clean H2O in the bottom of a Tesco’s toilet, I have been a little wary of our ability to fit into a standard size toilet cubicle. Now, I love Munch dearly, but I often wonder if his dipsey ways are from being away with the fairies or just a sneaky plan of watching on in glee as my mishaps multiply. The day in question, he appeared not to understand the “come on sugar cube, forward” that I used to coax him into getting his pony like body into cubicle, hence my slip and dip routine where my foot decided to dive into the toilet as I clumsily clambered over him. In all fairness, as soon as he heard the splash, he came alive and turned around and closed the door with his nose. If I had functional vision, I swear I would have seen his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Sorry, I am digressing from my original point. It is virtually impossible for me and lofty Munch to fit into standard size toilet cubicle accident free, so we sometimes need to use the disabled toilets if the standard ones aren’t large enough.
A few weeks ago, when we successfully emerged from a disabled toilet with dry feet, I was happy. That is until an irate woman snarled at me as I walked out. “You do know that this is a disabled toilet don’t you” she seethed. Me being as vacant as ever replied “Yeah I know” with matching puzzlement in my voice and probably my face, “You shouldn’t be using it should you” Chirpy Cheryl chastised. “Do you actually have a disability?” Chirpy Cheryl huffed, puffed and tutted with raised blood pressure. “What?” the childish me snapped back. As I heard the pennies fall in her head, Chirpy Cheryl did become chirpy as she started to apologize profusely for not noticing 31 inch high Munch. This not looking blind malarkey did not half get me into trouble. Chirpy Cheryl would not be the first nor the last to jump to the conclusion of what a disability does and does not look like. My daughter who was waiting outside the toilet heard the conversation and we talked about it afterwards. The accuser of the “queue jumping non-disabled person” herself did not appear to have any external clues of a disability but we did not think about questioning her about her entitlement of using the disabled toilet as our minds were not confined in such a narrow space.
Call me bad minded but I think Chirpy Cheryl has many like-minded friends around the place who also like to question your entitlement to join them in disabled facilities. Being blissfully blind to most things around me, I never see the judgement on other people’s faces but people who I am with at the time do. Parking in a disabled car parking spot the other day, we were bitterly embraced by Cranky Colin who we parked next to us in a disabled bay. As my daughter merrily popped my Blue Badge on the dashboard, she commented that Cranky Colin’s scowl towards us was intensifying. As we gathered our things together to get out, my daughter told me that Cranky Colin had suddenly transformed into an owl as he whipped his head around to watch us go to the boot to get Munch out. Even as we walked away on the pedestrian area in front of the car, I was told he was still glaring and had added a few head shakes and I am sure I felt some heat seeking missiles being aimed at my back. I mean if someone is walking with a Guide Dog and has a blue badge, it is fair to say that they can use a disabled parking spot. The Chirpy Cheryls and Cranky Colins in the world maybe should rethink the judging that they do. People who have disabilities and health conditions that require disabled facilities themselves surely realize that empathy is a far better option that hostility.
Unless we have x-ray vision and a medical degree, let’s not pretend to be experts on how hidden disabilities and health conditions affect people. Surely the Chirpy Cheryls and Cranky Colins in the world that themselves live with health issues should know what it is like to be judged. Tuts, headshakes and snappy comments will always say more about the one making them and little about the person they are directed at. Chirpy Cheryls and Cranky Colins may always exist but we can always take steps to educate them. Failing that, we can always send loving unicorns their way and hope their glittery poop that they drop from overhead adds some sparkle to their dull lives. Love and splattering’s Cheryl and Colin X.

My Furry Healer

16 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by in Guide Dog, Marfan Syndrome

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Peering lovingly down at my furry footwarmer, I should have guessed something was up. On numerous occasions over the years, Munch and my sweet rescue cat Angus have laid across different parts of my body healing me where I didn’t even know I needed it. I love how animals can sense things in the human body before even the human can. Four years ago, before I was hospitalized with pneumonia, Angus and his brother Arnold took it in turns to lay by my feet and head and act as a healing channel even before I knew that I was ill. They had never done it before and never did it afterwards,
This time it was Munch’s turn to take on the role of healer. Throughout the day in work he lay on my foot back and forth and in the night, he came to bed and lay his head on my knee. It was a little odd for him as usually he expects me to do the running when it comes to showing affection. The following day, when sorting out the mountain of laundry, I walked into the side of an armchair and my patella began sliding out of its comfy place like a safety chain on a door lock. Luckily, I realized what was happening and straightened my leg to prevent yet another dislocation. Seven times on one joint was enough and I was willing to do anything to avoid the eighth.

If you have had a dislocation in the past, you will know how painful they can be. I have had numerous breaks, fractures, ligament damage soft tissue damage and most other things in the past but the numerous dislocations that have graced my body are probably the most painful. The joys of Marfan Syndrome are that the unexpected always seems to be the host of surprise parties when it comes to your body. When the Fibrillin 1 throughout your body decides that it fancies mixing it up a bit, guaranteed a hospital visit will be on the cards. Some Marfan patients are luckier than others but clumsy ones like me always seem to draw the comical short straw.

One of the worse things about a quick trip to the A&E department I have found is the explaining to hospital staff how it happened which can be more painful than the actual injury. Regarding my frequent patella dislocations, I have had to explain many scenarios from how I slipped in the shower (washing off dog poo that I had just slipped in whilst out walking), to dislocating it after playing keepy uppies with a balloon in work, to falling over a chair whilst demonstrating laughter yoga to 35 teenagers. The other times in between you really don’t want to know. Telling the hospital staff that I put it back into place myself and do not need any pain relief as I am doing breathing techniques and unicorn meditations, only adds to the oddity of these visits.

Luckily this time however, I managed to keep my patella secure as it is currently being supported by my one of many knee braces which range from Rococopesque to a more discreet version. Bizarrely, the day after this happened, I had a letter from the hospital offering me an appointment for my pre-assessment for my knee reconstruction early next year. I had already cancelled it once as I stupidly thought that my patella had become quite comfy where it was meant to reside but the soft tissue around it that is currently having a pity party and has tantrums when I weight bare, has different ideas. It looks like I may have to go ahead with it and add to my collection of Marfan Syndrome related operations.
This sounds like a start of a classic joke though as I wonder how the heck I am going to get around.

I have been in a full leg case three times and got it stuck between the passenger seats of a car twice and between my bed and the wall to name but a few examples. Clumsy is my natural mode to operate in so I am not sure how this operation malarkey will pan out. Apparently, I will be back walking in two weeks but will remain in a leg brace for three months due to the unpredictability of the Marfan’s make-up and my previous history. I have a sneaky feeling that when I am back in work and in the swing of everyday life, a boisterous guide dog, crutches, a leg brace and numerous bags for work may end up like a game of Buckaroo, where my pantomime like donkey grace will provide hours of entertainment.

Let’s hope my furry healing footwarmer and his co-worker Angus are on hand for the after affects of my comedy show. I think I may need them.

The Guide Of My Life

16 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by in Guide Dog, Unconditional Love

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The day was over. I could tell that he was relieved to be on the way home after a long week of guiding me around new places. Directions had never been my strong point but since loosing even more sight it had got worse. On duty Minster guided me away from the wrong turning yet again and led us into the right corridor. To the pattern loving sighted person, identical looking corridors must be ideal but to me it was a living nightmare. With no breaks in the monotonous blurry coloured walls from any shadowy landmarks, the labyrinth of alien newness seemed to continue for miles. Lucky for me Minster’s good memory kept us from getting lost.

This week, we had worked in three different secondary schools with a total of over 2,000 pupils. Finding my way to the schools was difficult enough with different routes and different modes of transport each day due to their locations. Walks, buses, taxis and trains all got us to where we needed to be. For a six-hour working day, we are out of the house for an average of eleven hours, but we have no choice as going directly by a unicorn is just not available to us unfortunately. Getting there is just the start of our day of moving around in hopeful bliss.

When off duty Munch becomes on duty Minster, he becomes the brains in our partnership. When we are shown the way through the school to our room he will remember it next time around with no hesitation. He then puts up with my dithering as I am convinced we need to go the wrong way but he stands his ground and leads us the proper way. He dodges the hazy mass of pupil traffic speeding towards us and leads me safely to the place that I would never be able to find alone. When on duty, he works so hard and never complains, he really is the magical reason that I can continue to work.

Hoovering up the dropped bits of food along the way and adoration from his surrounding fans tends to be the motivation that he needs to get him through the marathon of his working week. When his harness is slipped off when we enter our room, his Munch like qualities spring to life as he actively seeks mischief to cause. Greeting our clients with open paws and a toy to play with, he shakes off his professional persona and gets ready for some fun. Having a dog in the school has such a positive effect on the pupils and teachers alike as they gently stream in for a bit of the Minster Munch magic.

Each day when we leave work, I look forward to getting in so that Minster can transform into the Munch that we all know and love. Within minutes of entering the house I know he will be winding Angus the cat up, stealing my gorgeous granddaughter’s toys and running off with shoes. I really don’t mind one bit as he deserves to have downtime just like any one of us. After his funny five minutes hurtling around the house he will settle down for a cuddle. I hope that the thank you that I whisper into his ears each night, conveys how much I appreciate him. He is the guide of my life that I will always love unconditionally and will never stop appreciating.

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