Keeping my foot on the pedal

Yesterday I used a toilet for the disabled and as I washed then dried my hands using the hand dryer I remembered the distress involved in doing the same in hospital....

...I balance the weight of my body on the sink edge while I stretch across to grab paper towels. With dry hands I look around me and spy the bin. It has a pedal. To lift the lid I need to raise my foot off the ground. 

1. I can't lift either foot high enough to squash a fly as I walk.
2. Neither of my feet have the power to squash the fly let alone press a foot pedal.
3. I consider lifting the lid with my hands but years of working in infection control set my hand contamination alarm bells ringing.
4. The lids here are hands free so lifting the lid is impossible.

I look around while still hanging on to the sink edge like an abseiler about to launch off the edge of a cliff. Horror claws as I realise I will have to leave the paper towels on the side of the sink. 

I would like to say I scurry off; but crutch, foot, crutch, foot, crutch, foot is all I can manage.

Back by the side of my bed it dawns on me that the policy to implement foot operated bins is all encompassing. The possibility that people cannot press the pedal is not in the plans on the assumption that the bins will only be used by mobile staff. 

Nowadays when I visit the hospital I know why the disabled toilet with a foot operated bin has paper towels all over the floor. I chat about this with a friend who uses a wheelchair full time. He too has encountered the same problem in hospitals and resorts to trying to press the pedal with his grabber, often to no avail...

Patient involvement in healthcare services development is vital but I now know that involvement of wheelchair/mobility aid users needs to reach the core of every decision.

Jumping to J in Memory of Jon

Jon was stolen from us by a Brain Tumour a year ago today.

Jons smile lit up like the sun in a clear blue sky. His young face told a more mature tale. We were drawn together by an invisible ribbon... a shared experience and the love of sticky iced buns!

I was fascinated by Jons calm aura. I am blessed that our paths crossed at a Hammer Out Brain Tumour support group and for the friendship we shared. Jon was courage epitomised. Like a stick of seaside rock he had special stamped all the way through.

Jons wicked sense of humour and his ability to play with words always made me smile; his texts kept me entertained:  “Roses are red, violets are blue, I can’t do poetry but I can make you laugh”!

When my driving licence plopped on the mat; Dorothy, my MINI, became Our Girl. On our first sea side trip, Jons grimace and puff when I suggested 1970s' music was enough to tell me he did not approve. Jon was a lover of Folk Music, so Folk Music it was.

We wore sun hats and clashed walking sticks as we strolled side by side along beaches and sea fronts. We ate ice cream with chocolate flakes dripping in raspberry juice overlooking a seaside pier. On the pier our giggles, like seagull cries, filled the air as we poked our heads through boards; a Victorian man holds a lady in his arms.

Jon launched ‘Tiggers travels’ . Tiggs jumped into Jons pocket wherever he went, wearing his Bristol Rovers hat and scarf.

Jons parents Jacky and Roy, are organising a concert in his memory on 25th May 2013 it is no surprise that tickets have SOLD OUT.  Proceeds will go into ‘The Jon Fredrickson Fund’ with the Brain Tumour Charity to support essential research into brain tumours.

Jon I miss you so much; God Bless x