Living on the edge of the set

During the last seven weeks of lockdown I have, to some degree, been able to forget my disability. More particularly, I have lost the sense of separation I have grown accustomed to feel from ‘normal’ people (I still think of being abled-bodied as the default setting) as friends and neighbours have had the same restrictions on movement forced upon them as I have. Their answer to the question ‘what have you done this week?’ is satisfyingly similar to my own, and my inherent FOMO (fear of missing out) has been stilled.

However a bitter thought bubbled to the surface last week as friends started to talk about travels they hope to undertake next year and I was reminded once again that my boundaries are significantly more tightly drawn than they used to be. It is not impossible to push those boundaries, but the option to undertake a long-haul flight for instance, is fraught with difficulties that are not easily overcome. I look too with envy on those contemplating new canal adventures and, although I was pleased to join the Facebook page of the person who bought our narrowboat to see how he is getting on in his new home (and he is doing a great job in bringing her up to spec), it is not without a lump in my throat that I do so.

My current boundaries are set by how far I can take my Omeo wheelchair (which I have named Molly*). I have used the lockdown period to gradually increase my skill levels to the point where I can climb most of the roads and bridleways around our house with Molly but we are prevented from going further by locked gates, deeply rutted footpaths or Victorian kissing gates that are too narrow to get through.

Those of you who remember ‘The Truman Show’ (1998 film starring Jim Carrey) will know what I mean when I say I feel as if we have been living in a film set. Like the lead character, Truman Burbank, we live in a ‘bubble’, in a beautiful setting with cheerful neighbours (who may, or may not be film extras) where the sun invariably shines and where all our bodily needs are met and yet it is finite in dimension. Like Truman, I have travelled to the edge of the set and have run into a wall, or series of walls, beyond which I can’t go.

(Sally on the other hand has been able to travel off the set during her daily exercise regimen so maybe she too is just an actor and I am the only person who experiences this as my entire world! Hmm, makes you think doesn’t it? 😳)

In the film Truman starts to wonder if there is a life beyond his bubble when a bulb falls near him from a lighting gantry far above and out of sight: an incident that sets off a chain of events that changes his life. Well, maybe the eventual easing of the lockdown rules will mean that I too can start to discover what lies beyond the ‘film set’ and can pick up new adventures, even if they don’t involve flying to the other side of the world. I can’t wait!

* I will post in more detail about my blossoming relationship with this quirky green machine called Molly, next time. It is a tale worth telling.