It’s not that I don’t realise that my son is
disabled – he’s five years old and still can’t sit up, it’s certainly not what
you’d call a ‘hidden disability’, but I just see Hugh. I have two beautiful sons, just 14 months
between them – I don’t look at them as ‘the older one with glasses’ and ‘the
small one in the wheelchair’, I just see Sean and Hugh, my two boys. Every so often though, it hits me again, and
I’m reminded of Hugh’s disabilities.
It can be little unexpected things that get
me, that remind me that life is a little ‘different’ than I expected; two
brothers playing football in the park, a newborn baby holding his mother’s gaze
lovingly. Such little things that are everyday
occurrences for most people pull at my heart strings and remind me what life
could have been like – the life I expected, the life I don’t have.
|
The School Bus |
Then there’s the more brutal, slap in the
face kind of reminder – the day the huge hospital bed was delivered, Hugh’s
first time in the gaudily decorated torture device also known as a ‘standing
frame’ and then today, this – the school bus.
I was prepared to be upset though, I expected
it.
When Hugh was a few days old and I imagined
walking to school hand in hand with my two sons, I didn’t anticipate that I’d
be shipping one off to special school in a wheelchair. I’ve resisted sending him on transport for
nearly two years now, preferring to drop him off and pick him up myself. I’m
lucky that his school is close enough to do that and with a bit of rushing and
the more than occasional late mark, I’ve managed to get two children to two
different schools. But I’m trying to get
back to work myself now and to get three of us to three different schools
before 9 o’clock is pushing it a bit.
|
"Is the bus here yet, Mum?" |
Hugh was dressed and ready in his chair well before
the bus arrived, unusually happy given the time of day (he’s not really a
morning person). His bags packed we
waited anxiously – or rather I waited anxiously, Hugh chilled out and Sean
watched TV.
We’re on a busy road and the traffic was
almost at a standstill as the tail lift on the rear of the bus lifted Hugh and
his wheelchair on. The cars full of
parents inched by, watching as Hugh was loaded on. Memories of the cruel taunts I remember being
used in childhood about *those buses* and the people on those buses – you know
the ones! I won’t repeat them. I wondered if that’s what people saw as they
passed.
I saw Hugh smiling out of the window excited
about the new sensations and the new experience. I saw my son going to school on a bus along
with two of his class mates, just friends travelling to school together.
And I didn’t cry.
But as I took my eldest son’s hand and walked
him to school and I watched the brightly coloured bus carrying my youngest son
turn the corner out of sight, I admit there was a lump in my throat.
|
"Bye Mum" |
Wow, this is a huge step! I wouldn't have blamed you at all for crying. Well done for getting everyone off to school on time. You mention people jeering at the disabled bus. I think that people are more understanding and kind these days. I hope so anyway. x
ReplyDeleteThanks Suzanne. I do think people are more accepting than we were as children. I think we see disability around us more and o are less scared
Delete*so are less scared/ignorant of it. I certainly hope so anyway. Luckily we have never been the victim of any rude comments, people have always been very kind and friendly towards Hugh thankfully.
DeleteThese reminders can be so tough! Like you say, we all live our own version of 'normal' and sort of forget everyone else isn't doing the same. Well done to all of you. Hope Hugh had a great day!
ReplyDeleteThank you, he absolutely loves the bus thanks V xxx
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