You’d think that after twenty years as a stroke survivor, I’d have seen it all. I’ve been through mobility challenges, my walking frame has seen more than most people’s cars and my regular botox injections I have every three months.
I have to get botox for my facial palsy so that I can articulate words, express myself with my face and be understood in conversations. The few weeks before my appointment are difficult for me when the botox has worn off. My muscles get tired, chewing food is hard, I can’t articulate words well and I feel incredibly fatigued.
Today was the day though that I my new fill of botox happens and although needles are not fun, I was excited at the relief I’d get to experience.
I got to my appointment and had to laugh at the absurdity of my situation. Here I was, at an appointment to make my life more accessible, facing a towering set of stairs.
“Really?” O said aloud, staring at the stairs, “I already have enough going on down here without you adding altitude training to the agenda!”.
But up I went, slowly and carefully all the way to the top. Once there, I felt as though I had no only earned my botox, but also a medal and a big rest.
The botox appointment is not something that I necessarily “look forward” to, but I do see it as a moment of discomfort for months of relief and easier communication. However, accessibility shouldn’t be an afterthought. I already juggle fatigue, mobility challenges, speech difficulties, chewing, swallowing – I shouldn’t have to climb a wall of stairs just to reach a medical treatment that I rely on.
Stroke survivors, mobility-aid users, anyone dealing with long-term conditions are already do more negotiating with our bodies in a single day than most people do in a month. Access shouldn’t be another barrier we have to climb (literally).
So today I got my Botox, it hurt a bit and I’m still recovering from my duel with the stairs. But I made it and I can laugh about it because humour is sometimes the best mobility aid of all.
But behind my humour we need to remember:
Access matters. Accessibility is not a luxury. And when you already have enough to contend with, the world shouldn’t make you climb mountains just to get the care you need.