Trapped in My Body
From Freedom to entrapment
I am trapped, trapped inside my dysfunctional body till death do us part.
I am also, often, trapped in my house because of this.
My “being” that is forever on the move and my mind that wants to go everywhere is trapped.
I cannot escape and I am becoming more and more trapped…so how did this happen? I was not born trapped…
I remember an idyllic childhood unaware of the dangerous political situation we lived in, in a non-democratic country. As a young girl I was a tomboy! I loved playing outside. Running off with my brother’s older friends to the big parks in our city. Forever being on my bike and cycling though wood-paths and falling off. Skiing and ending up on the run for a ski jump. Thankfully, none of these wild escapades caused me harm.
But a much more silent and sinister matter would cause me to become trapped.
One day I was the energetic crazy child, the next I could not walk.
Just like that, my legs stopped working (totally for a while) and I couldn’t walk.
Doctor’s visits followed, hospitalisations one after another…and at first nothing made sense to the specialists. This was after all 55 years or so ago and there was no MRI, or PET scans.
After many doctor’s appointments and examinations they found out I had a tumour under my spinal cord. They didn’t know if it was cancer or not and I had to have an operation. Doctors told my parents I would probably not survive the operation (that was the 1st but not the last time my poor parents were told that). After this first operation, where they tried but failed to remove the tumour, they found out it wasn’t malignant (thankful for small mercies). But it pushed on my nerves and therefore caused me to be, in effect, paraplegic.
From then on my entrapment fluctuated — from being a total prisoner of my body, not being able to take a step at all to being disabled but still able to use my body to some extent and break out.
I was never fully free, but even though I was trapped in this imperfect body I could play sports. I got a black belt in Martial arts. I could ski. I was able to travel and be totally independent and have a successful career.
Sometimes the trap would close enough that I couldn’t do everything that I wanted. But I tried.
Now with age catching up (damn age!!) the prison doors are closing more tightly shut — and only on good days can I really escape through a gap in a badly locked door.
I am an active person, I love travelling, adventure, outdoors, sports…and when this is taken away from you, you really become a prisoner. Trapped in a body that will not allow you to do or partake in all the things you love. You are well and truly imprisoned.
Of course, anyone who is getting older gets trapped to some extent and will be familiar with the feeling of wanting but not being able to do what they used to do.
By being trapped inside my body, I am also trapped, more and more often, inside my house and in the village where I now live. So why do I live in a village in the middle of nowhere, up high in the mountains? No shops, no nothing! Total population 127! People speaking a language I am not even that good in.
I used to live in London when I worked. There, transport was easy — taxies, driving and everything is flat. Lots of shops and food-shopping delivered to your house. Theaters, museums, bars and anything you may wish for on your doorstep.
When I retired there was no way, financially, I could stay in London — my mortgage was far too high for my pension. On top of that, my elderly mother lived in France in a small village — all alone. So I brought a house in that village (from the sale of my flat in London). But the house is totally unsuitable for someone who is disabled and getting more so by the day. However, it was suitable for my cat!! It had a terrace that I could enclose so he could go outside — I was sold.
It’s a house — it’s got stairs!! This was difficult already when I brought the house — now it’s impossible. But the wonderful French system contributed to a lift…Great!! Except when it breaks down as it often does — then I am trapped!! And worse, now that I have obtained, by circumstances beyond my control (a soft heart!), a dog — a big 35kg dog — he needs to go out! He can’t be trapped. How to walk the dog and let him pee and poo when you are trapped on the first floor of your house without a lift???
I never thought about my disability as being trapped till recently, when it’s so difficult to go out. I can drive, but I can’t get the scooter (hate wheelchairs) out of the car…so I need someone to come with me.
Depending on others and on electrical things to be able to get out is really a trap where the bars are difficult to get through.
