Initially after the stroke in hospital 3, the only way I was able to move was being pushed in a wheelchair, either by the therapists to physio or around the ward and hospital with my family. When it came time to get home I still wasn’t walking (I was barely standing) the plan was I’d be moved around the house on a wheelchair by Rich, and/or carers to start with, transfer to other seats / toilet / bed with a turning device. Which meant total reliance on other people. I quickly got fed up of this and then the carers kept slamming the wheelchair into my furniture and walls it mentally pushed me to stop using it and pretty much worked.

With the OT we had ordered an electric wheel chair too that in theory at the start was so I could get around the house, it took a while to arrive by which time I was self mobile in the house, so we decided the electric would become my escape vehicle to leave the house, it was capable of covering my entire village and a little more if I needed.

In reality it only had 1 run out. I took myself down to a village pub. Parked myself outside, hopped out, walked myself up the 4/5 steps to get in and to the bar, a woman sat by the window reacted as if I was the second coming of Jesus because she had seen me get out and go up stairs.

The push wheelchair became an outing accessory, shopping trips, days out like my annual Alton towers Oktoberfest boozy weekend with my brothers and that was pretty much it.

In the pub with the electric wheekchairAfter one drink I went to leave to find some idiot had sat in the chair and was trying to mess about with it, I’d locked the key pad before I’d gone in the pub though, sorry. So after bluntly telling him to get off, I trundled home. Deciding it had been successful in action but not a pleasant experience due to other people I decided I wouldn’t bother again. The chair sat in the spare room for a while before I realised I was hoarding a valuable piece of kit that could be used by someone else and returned it.

My walking continued to improve and improve especially after the 2 week leg FES trial. Without really realising the manual wheelchair hadn’t been used for months. I gave that back at month 9.

For a long time I thought I’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life which could have worked if necessary however it was never my goal, once I’d taken a few steps that was it, I was going to continue.

The electric wheelchair in particular symbolised an acceptance I wouldn’t walk very far or independently again.

To see them all go and our spare room return to normal felt hugely cathartic and progressive.