Like “happiness”, the word “normal” is one
of those subjective words defined differently by all. Yet, in the world of disability, “normal”
becomes a question. Can someone “live a
normal life”, or are they “back to normal”?
How do you answer these questions when normal is so hard to define?
On a recent holiday, I witnessed a woman
with a disability engage in compelling acts of what I call “normal”. I was so taken by this that I had to take the
below picture. What do you notice? The location of the wheelchair makes the
owner of this unidentifiable. This was
not an isolated event. Everyday I would
see this wheelchair stashed somewhere – off to the side, in a deserted hallway,
or almost out of sight. The wheelchair
was so far removed from the person that it could never “define her” and really
was just a means of transportation. I
would watch her husband wheel her to the poolside, into the restaurant, or out
in the theatre then she would transfer to a “normal” chair and he would move
her wheelchair out of sight. True, maybe
they just wanted this out of the way, but if the goal was practicality, she
would not have taken the time and effort to transfer when sitting in the wheelchair
for most things would be easier.
I believe that this woman just wanted to
feel “normal”. She didn’t want to be
recognized by her chair, and wanted to experience the world the way
non-disabled people do – sitting on a pool lounger, in a dining chair, on a
couch, or even in the water on a floaty.
And who allowed this to happen?
Her husband. He pushed her around
the resort, secured her chair for transfers, moved this out of the way, and
re-secured it when changing locations. I also saw him carry her in and out of
the pool so she could float in the water, and he was her personal waiter for
drinks, food and other items she needed that she could not obtain herself. In my world this is a perfect example of attendant
care. Transfers, mobility, equipment
maintenance, and ensuring comfort and security are all parts of the current
form used by Occupational Therapists in auto (and WSIB) to calculate attendant
care. So, let’s not underestimate the
time someone might take to help someone feel “normal”, whatever that means to
that person, in that environment and at that time. I believe “facilitating normal” is a valuable
and important part of being an attendant and should be fairly represented in
our calculations of care.
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