Harry Wade
Harry Wade Nov/Dec Column – Step By Step
Are you watching Strictly Come Dancing? I love it but, as I wrote in my autobiography Out On a Limb, dance steps are tricky with only one ankle. And I need to be given a leg that fits to be able to take any steps at all.
I want ‘out on a limb’ to mean I’m out and about, on my prosthetic limb, living the best quality life I can. I don’t want it to mean I’m isolated and unheard, fighting single-handed the services that provide it for me; single-legged of course in my case.
I’m going to be the wrong sort of single-legged and out on a limb if I can’t work with my prosthetist to get it right. Firstly, if you want to know if a prosthetic limb fits someone, you should ask them rather than tell them. It needs a two-way dialogue.
Dialogue is the rather obvious central idea to marketing, research & development and quality control. It’s a central idea of the social model of disability, which starts with the patient’s needs, rather than the medical model of disability, which starts with idea of ‘medicine man’ as omniscient expert. (more…)
A Trike Down Memory Lane
Harry tells tales of growing up on one leg (and several sets of wheels).
Picture the scene: 1963 and a small red trike with yellow wheels hurtles down a steep hill. The little boy’s feet no longer on the pedals fixed to the front wheel. The boy’s mother has begun to run but she’s been left behind; the pedals flailing menacingly as the trike reaches near terminal velocity and the junction at the bottom of the hill looms.
The boy hears his mother cry out with increasing anxiety – much to his satisfaction. As he whizzes past the last house but one he jams his metal leg into the pedals and they lock. The trike slews to a halt leaving a very pleasing skid mark down a series of paving stones. Turning and grinning at his mother who was just arriving and out of breath: “That was fun! Can we do it again?” “Perhaps tomorrow”, she winces.
Ah yes, readers, that was me. Aged four and applying the laws of gravity on the steep hills of Hampstead to obtain the maximum freedom and enjoyment out of my little trike.
It is a reassuring habit to push my bike from my right hand side where my artificial leg will protect me from painful pedals on shin and ankle. And even better protection from bicycle-hating dogs. I was cycling outside our house as a child when I was suddenly attacked by the dog from across the road. She barked and darted out as I cycled past and bit me on the leg. She yelped, whilst lying on the pavement were two teeth. (She was never known to attack a bicycle again.) (more…)
OUT ON A LIMB – Able May/Jun 2011
There’s only one leg in legacy
“We have become a grandfather”, as Mrs Thatcher nearly said. But, while her legacy for the next generations is well known, what I might or might not pass on to my children and grandchildren has never been entirely certain.
I was born in 1959 without a foot and two fingers missing from one hand. It was completely unforeseen and, although my parents spent a lot of time after my birth seeking advice as to the possible causes and the likely legacy, it has stayed a mystery. We have chalked off Thalidomide, though there was a lingering suspicion over something my mother took once for her morning sickness. There is a suggestion in the book Mutants by Armand Marie Leroi that unexpected mutation of ‘Hox genes’ can result in a baby having a range of malformations of limbs. A consultant recently told me that my disability was probably “just one of those things”. But nobody could say if I was likely to pass it on. (more…)
OUT ON A LIMB – Able Mar/Apr 2011
You can call me ‘Rusty’
As a boy my doctor at Roehampton shouted me at, “Metal legs and water do not mix”. He claimed I was wasting NHS resources by exposing my leg to a soaking under a charity ducking stool – but that’s another story. And accidents do happen.
My cousin had a boat on Windermere and occasionally he would invite me sailing when we visited; we even entered a race or two. I had little to offer in terms of sailing skills other than good eyesight to spot the marker buoys to head for. His Flying Fifteen didn’t get out much and probably didn’t have the pristine polished bottom enjoyed by the boats of the elite of the Royal Windermere Yacht Club. Our best finish was 4th, but another time we were overtaken on the long home straight by four boats. As we sailed in to moor outside the posh RWYC clubhouse, my disgruntled cousin barked at me to grab the pontoon as we slid past. He then changed his mind and decided to do one more circle for a better position. Sadly I was already anchored more to the pontoon than I was to the boat, and after a brief impression of the Clifton Suspension Bridge I slid gently into the water up to my chest. My hollow metal leg filled up with water (quick! A seat for Dr J) and the RWYC members cackled over their G&Ts as I clambered out of the water. They went a bit quiet when the pump action of the metal leg’s socket made water squirt sideways out of the ventilation holes with every stride, like a mini fountain at Versailles. (more…)
OUT ON A LIMB – Able Jan/Feb 2011
Author Harry Wade shares his life experiences as an amputee with Able readers.
SHORT LEG OR LONG LEG?
Short leg or long leg? This is the obvious choice for an amputee’s fielding position in cricket. The Ashes are upon us, bringing cricket onto the front pages and the rugby internationals push the football back as far as page 5 for once. Cricket and rugby were the two official sports at my school, even if we all stubbornly played football in the playground at lunchtime.
They don’t coach my unconventional approach to cricket fielding. Playing last year with my work colleagues, rather than bending down and stopping the ball with my hands as it sped towards me, I stuck out a leg. The ball hit me on mid shin area and all the players winced on my behalf in anticipation of the pain. But of course with such plastic padding and metal core in my defence the ball rebounded rapidly towards the batsman and we were a little unlucky not to get a run out. In the old days the metal leg picked up a number of impressive dents.
OUT ON A LIMB – Able Nov/Dec 2010
Author Harry Wade shares his life experiences as an amputee with Able readers.
NAKED OR FAKED?
How do you feel about your leg or legs? As a boy, I liked my metal one so much that I stuck shiny football stickers to it even though the pink paint peeled off when removed. As a student, I super-glued a bottle opener to it, which went down well at parties. As an adult, I became more bashful.
There is a movement among artificial limb-wearers called “Naked not faked”. It is a bold and confident stance that says: “Yes, of course I’ve got a disability, so what?” or “Don’t try and fake a false one”. I met a man on the ‘flaunt it’ side of the argument, with a socket painted in the style of the artist Mondrian. It was beautiful and the machinery below was gleaming. It was not saying “Don’t look at my leg”; not just “It’s OK to look at my leg,” but “Look at my leg!”
He told me he was proud and appreciative of the skill of the design and the technology and he wanted to show it off. He made the fitting of it sound like a close relationship with a tailor in the making of a Saville Row suit. I was very impressed. I shared a fitting room last month with a man with a Union Jack proudly painted on his; the ex-soldier told me it was his badge of honour. (more…)
