Sometimes I think about how much effort goes into doing something that used to be so simple like swimming. Before my stroke, I could just get in the water and swim. Now to go for a swim requires planning, equipment, adaptations, support, problem-solving, and sometimes a lot of improvisation. Today was definitely one of those days.
It’s the depths of winter in Melbourne and it’s incredibly cold all the time. But I had my mind set on the pool, so I started preparing. I peeled myself out of my warm pink tracksuit and squeezed my disabled body into a full-length wetsuit to help regulate my body temperature. Then came the tight wetsuit booties to keep my chilblains from acting up, followed by my neck pillow to manage the vertigo and neck pain I experience in the water. I packed my old prescription sunglasses too, having learned the hard and expensive way that chlorine gradually erodes the coating on my prism glasses, which I need for double vision. Add in my swimming hat to protect my eyes and block the glare, plus a support worker to help carry all the gear. Only once all this is in place, am I ready to get into the water.
I was actually pretty chuffed with myself for planning, adapting and showing up in the bitter cold, right up until the moment I got to the pool and realised I hadn’t glad-wrapped my eye. Because of my eye issues, protecting it from the water is non-negotiable. There is no swimming without protecting my eye.
Whilst poolside, at the ready, I asked my support worker to go on an emergency mission to source glad wrap from the pool café, scissors from reception, and tape from the first aid room.
Eventually, we got it sorted, though I lost some of my precious swimming time and had to settle for a short dip. But I did it. And that matters immensely to me.
Living with a disability means so much of my energy goes into adapting how I do things just to keep doing what I love. It’s not just swimming, it’s problem-solving and pain management. It’s exhausting, frustrating, and sometimes feels unfair that something so simple requires this much heavy lifting.
However, I know what happens if I don’t make the effort and that’s missing out and I refuse to let my disability make that choice for me. So I keep finding ways to make life work for the person I am now, rather than wishing for the body I had before.
Today, despite the hurdles, I got in the water. It wasn’t as long as I wanted, but for the rest of my day I felt so much better because I had made it happen. It gave me movement and a feeling of ownership. It reminded me that success isn’t always about executing a flawless plan, sometimes it’s about standing poolside whilst engineering a solution to enable me to get in the water.
Life is unpredictable and complicated, but I’m learning that adapting is just another way of refusing to give up.
Sometimes adapting is exactly how I keep doing the things I love