This witty poem is written by Kathy Thomas about her wheelchair …
When I fell ill with this ME
The dear old NHS gave to me
A wheelchair so I could get about
And my old man could take me out.
The trouble was it isn’t the kind
That I can wheel myself, if I had a mind
It’s the sort that needs pushing about
And this wears my poor hubby out.
One day we went up to the zoo
My hubby, me and grandkids too.
But it’s no picnic wheeling me round
On that uneven sort of ground.
So I ended up getting out and walking
And it’s no short distance we’re talking.
Then the grandkids got tired so
They asked “Nanny, can we have a go?”
So it was I found myself pushing
My own wheelchair while sat on the cushion
Two small children enjoyed the ride
And my hubby walking by my side.
One Christmas day we decided that
We’d take the wheelchair out and back
To my daughter’s house for tea
“It’s quite flat so let’s see”
So we started off, presents on my lap
It went quite well until we met a gap
In the pavement so we decided to cross
To the other side so started across.
Now we were heading for a step up
And I was worried we would tip up
“It’ll be fine” my hubby said
So off we went full steam ahead.
Now he did his best but misjudged the height
I went flying in a fright
I landed quite gracefully
All the presents still on my knee.
Going back was much less trouble
And we made it at the double
I’m not quite sure if it’s a crime
Steering a wheelchair after drinking wine.
Now the only place he’ll push my chair
Is at The Mall on the smooth surface there.
Thing is he gets a bit carried away
He could zoom around there all day.
And when we’re looking in the shops
I get a stiff neck because he stops
In front of want I want to see
Too far forward he always parks me.
I also worry for people’s legs
“Go careful love” I’m heard to beg.
So now we have these hand signals
As we’re bombing up and down the aisles.
Hand up for stop, you’re getting near
Hand left for that’s the way to steer
Works well apart from the occasional mishap,
Like when a woman almost landed in my lap.
So now we’ve had enough of this
This wheelchair really takes the … biscuit
The dear old NHS have agreed
To give me the kind of wheelchair I need.
It’s self-propelling so that’s better you see
As my poor hubby won’t have to push me.
It’s got brakes on the handles so we can stop
If it’s going too fast on the way to the shop.
So now I’ll have no need to gripe
I might get some go faster stripes.
It’ll be just like an answered prayer
When they finally deliver my new wheelchair.
Written by: Kathy Thomas