Christine Tongue: Going for Gold

Christine Tongue is a founder member of disability campaign group Access Thanet

“Going for gold are you, love?” Shouted the jolly bin man as he moved a bin out of the way of my very slow mobility scooter. “Not today!” I replied thinking I bet I come up with a much wittier answer tomorrow when it’s too late.

But it got me thinking about the Paralympics. Which I don’t usually do because sport bores me rigid. I was let off doing it in school as I’d had polio – and was very grateful.

I’ve always had very mixed feelings about people enthusing about wheelchair tennis or amputees sprinting. They’re more often than not the sort of people who just think I’m grumbling when I go on about the lack of ramps and dropped kerbs in our towns.

And I’ve also heard people saying that the Games must be an inspiration for anyone who can’t walk.

So if I could just train hard enough I’ll be running round the park soon with the  other local stick users? No pressure then…..

But out of some feeling of disabled solidarity I decided to give the Paralympics a watch.

The history of the Paralympics is much more interesting than the other kind which has to do with young men in umpteen BC trying to look like Greek gods – who live on Mount Olympus.

At the end of World War II a lot of young soldiers were going through lengthy rehabilitation after life changing injuries. Many were stuck in wheelchairs following paralysis or amputations.

A doctor at Stoke Mandeville hospital found an imaginative way of treating these  young men who were used to leading an active life. Dr Ludwig Guttmann, a refugee from Nazi Germany and specialist in spinal injuries, believed that sport was an important factor in helping wheelchair users build strength and confidence.

The Stoke Mandeville Games, for disabled war veterans, first held in 1948, grew into the Paraplegic Games and eventually the Paralympics, which includes all kinds of disabilities.

It was around this time that physiotherapy was coming into its own. As a child with polio in 1952 I was taught to walk again by intensive physiotherapy. As kids we didn’t need encouraging to be active but I can quite see how servicemen in their twenties might feel life was over when their legs stopped working.

My current physiotherapist says: “The games prove how much disabled people can become more abled with the right support and training. Sport can be really motivating!”

So, what did I think, having watched amazing people swimming with no arms, falling out of their wheelchairs trying to chuck balls into nets, and running with metal feet?

I think that we all need motivating to be more active but disabled people need extra help!

I can’t just dive into a swimming pool, I need good steps with solid handrails, many people need a hoist to lift them in, others need helpers and floats to enjoy the water.

I have a wheelchair that’s really hard to use. It’s heavy, unmaneuverable and  it would only go fast out of control down Broadstairs High Street. I haven’t tested it on that yet!

I would love to try a light, fast, arm propelled sports wheelchair so I’m not always dependent on a battery for my power.

But sports wheelchairs, light, strong, easy to turn, more stable etc cost between £1,500 and £8,000.

I would love a wheeled device that would get me over rough ground but the mobility scooters that would get me the equivalent of a marathon run would cost over £10,000.

Even a simple rollator costs between £80 and £400!

So I hope you’ve enjoyed watching disabled people providing entertainment for the world, and marvelling at how they do it.

But please remember there are 14 million of the rest of us! We might be waiting for months for operations, or specialist physio, or stuck at home because we can’t afford costly mobility devices. Or needing funded care, or help with heating bills.

Someone seems to find funding for the technology to send millionaires into space but disabled people are invisible unless we’re standing on a podium getting a gold medal!

The answer to my bin man is “Get me a podium to tell my story and I’ll forego the gong!”

We don’t need medals we need money!