WORDS: JANE MUIR

When it comes to travel, I used to be a ‘throw a few things in a bag and go’ sort of person. Of course, having kids changes that for anybody, but add a disability into the equation, and going away anywhere – for any amount of time – suddenly seems to require a removal van – something Motability, with their ‘providing a vehicle based on day-to-day needs’ don’t seem to understand.

There’s an old Missing Consonant cartoon which struck me as particularly poignant in our situation. It shows a family entering the living room of a  house, with the young boy cradling a toilet in his arms. The caption says: “The Simpsons were taking a second loo around the property.” Armed with a power chair, a manual chair and a wheeled loo/shower seat, as well as all the other ‘stuff’ we need, I feel we might as well be taking an extra loo – as well as the kitchen sink!

True we don’t always choose easy destinations; take, for example, the croft in the Outer Hebrides. It’s surrounded by long grass and rocky outcrops, but it’s all on one level once you’re inside and – thanks to the kindness of friends – it’s free. Nevertheless, we needed the power chair for inside the house and the manual for the ferry and for walks; the rollover loo seat was not an option, while the bath support made up for the lack of shower facilities. That was four major items already and, with struts, wheels and arms akimbo, they’re not exactly slot-together, space-saving or compact.

Taking essential equipment on holiday also, of course, entails taking tools to deal with the inevitable breakages. A wheelchair thrown onto a conveyor belt at the airport requires anything from a set of Allan keys to a screwdriver – or that ‘lifesaver on a roll’ also known as duct tape. Spare sets of nuts, bolts and screws can save a potentially ruined holiday: the cobbles in Edinburgh and the steps in Venice had me regularly searching gutters after hearing the  tinkle of small metal parts doing their own small bid for freedom. 

Remembering every little thing that might be needed is challenging, even to a list addict like myself. Getting it to co-inhabit limited car space, survive off-piste terrain, negotiate inaccessible buildings, stand up to devil-may-care airport workers and hold together when jammed into small spaces and awkward corners – all that comes later. Forethought, imagination and unflappable organisational skills all swing into being days before, until by the start of the holiday you’re already mentally exhausted.

Finally, packed up and ready to go, feeling so proud because every space is used optimally, it dawns that – like any other carer – in thinking so hard about the needs of your child you forgot to think about yourself. You may have remembered the proverbial toothbrush, you can do without make up for a week or so – and a hairbrush can be shared if needs be. But what if the little shop on this out of the way island doesn’t stock ladies knickers?