In the interests of 'trying to get a life', we called in at a local beer festival for a very noisy pint with son in wheelchair. As it was in a tent, it was pleasingly accessible. Landlord, staff and other drinkers very affable and didn't seem particularly put off by us having to suction him among the small crowd. (We're known locally, so probably less looked askance at here than elsewhere.) There was loud, live music - the main reason for taking him there. He really appreciates atmospheres and people watching, particularly if he can have his chair 'danced about' a bit to the music, even though he can't actually drink or speak himself. The tasters of beer (a drop in a straw is as much as he can manage without choking on it) went down almost as well as the music and he was really alert in spite of having had a very sleepy evening leading up to it.
Unfortunately we hadn't reckoned with the bales of hay and I suspect it was these that set his hay fever salivation and chest off, culminating in a couple of fairly strong, cyanosed (oxygen stoppage making him go quite blue) fits, prompting us to get him home fairly quickly. Because of the noise and general milling about, I don't think many, if any, people realised what was happening - so no disruption caused.
We've lived here a long time and many of the locals have seen him fit and are quite used to us. Even the local Asda doesn't raise many eybrows these days. There again, we don't have to give him rectal paraldehyde in the biscuit aisle very often these days either - it's amazing how fast a large area of supermarket can clear if there seems any danger that people might feel obliged to help.
The secret to survival is to develop a thick skin and just get on with things. If people feel offended - and some do - it's their problem. We've got bigger ones to worry about, like keeping him alive.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
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