Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Since I became a cripple my perspective on life has changed. You might think this is predictable.What has come as a surprise to me is the way in which my new condition has affected me.Of course the extra time I have to lie in bed has brought on waves of lucidity, one of the more revealing of which is how much you still need to know as you clamber up the lower slopes of old age. For instance, through much of my adult life I cherished the notion that I knew pretty well everything, especially when it came to sexy stuff. Yet I was closing on 50 before I came across Auto Erotic Asphyxiation. And even though I had the process explained to me by a doctor, and have heard the CSI's of LV, Miami and NY mention it as casually as they order a coffee, I'm still not entirely sure I've got it right.I mean, why would you bother ?However the new knowledge is a bit surperfluous for persons post menopause.And only last week, while listening to Woman's Hour I heard Jenni Murray mentioning that Nicholas Sarcozy was having a spot of trouble in the perineum region.Do they make cheese there or what ? And if not where the hell is it. The thirst for knowledge was so sharp that I shot to an upright position thereby endangering my many dodgy ligaments.Could I have a perineam ? And more, could that be the source of all my troubles? And finally , horror of horrors, could it be somewhere you should keep to yourself, like pyles, for fear of provoking gales of ribbald laughter.Finally, I inserted myself into my crutches and the clapped-out Corsa, and headed to Ballinasloe. I had three things to be - get petrol - tax the car, and buy a replacement iron. All of these involved manoeurvres that would test me in my new persona as a cripple. But, game to the end I set out and achieved total success. It was while I was driving home that it struck me that the judicious use of a crutch, or a walking stick can elicit all sorts of help, especilly if you pass yourself off as a charming and helpless old biddy.Of yourse its possible to look at my performance as disgracefully manipulative. But surely not. I'm just nicer, that's all.