Some Reflections

. . . on two months in a not-super-accessible place

So we have left Oxford, and I have thoughts. We spent two months there, in a not-quite-accessible apartment, which was, however, free and honestly, it would have to be pretty terrible for a free place to be unlivable. Okay, so my wheelchair didn’t fit through the front door, or in the hallways. Okay, so when I tried to rent a Rollator for the time, I discovered renting for two months would cost me 350 pounds (!!), while buying one from Amazon would be $65 plus residual guilt about buying from Amazon. Okay, so the bathroom was too little to even fit my Rollator, so I was super-happy I packed my collapsible shower seat, which I used both in and out of the shower. Okay, so the door to the apartment and the front door to the building both had ledges, thereby ensuring that I couldn’t ever take myself out anywhere alone. So, yes, there were problems. But I have to admit that Oxford, and more specifically Summertown (where we stayed), are kind of great. And for my readers concerned about traveling while disabled: Very accessible when you’re not living in a free apartment.

What remains frustrating is the way in which so much progress is being made, and yet. So Summertown/Oxford were really very navigable to get around, in terms of buses, restaurants (Oxford Wine Tavern, I love your ramps and your disability bathroom and the ginger waitress who seemed totally happy to see us each time), and even the university. The walls around the colleges, for example, have these huge doorways, with littler doors within them. Most folks use the little doors, but they have a step up and over. The porters, though, will happily open the bigger doors for you to roll through like royalty. The colleges all seem to have at least one disability bathroom in or near the main courtyard area. They have ramps for getting to the high-table dinners and lifts for getting into the libraries.

So then why are the visiting-fellow apartments all in buildings without lifts and with tiny doorways and halls? And don’t tell me it’s because they’re 500 years old, because they aren’t. They’re like, mid-1960s boxy council-style housing, and clearly haven’t been updated since then. In our flat, for example, there were two bathrooms, both tiny, and I know this is my stupid American bigger-is-better attitude (I actually don’t really think it is) but honestly? Why not make them into one slightly bigger bathroom that could fit a Rollator or even just a seat, and also a shower that’s big enough to turn around in? I tried to take a picture of the shower so you could see what I’m talking about but get this: The bathroom was so small that the picture of the shower looks big!

This is a trick of the angles.

I took this picture from the toilet, which is mooshed right up against the shower and so from this angle the shower looks huge. Don’t be fooled. In reality, the white floor of the shower that you see is exactly big enough to fit a 15-inch shower seat and that’s it. Or for Michael to stand in it and not move too abruptly. A typical shower started with me wedging the seat in, then lowering myself onto it, hauling my legs in, and just managing to close the doors around myself. Then shower, lever myself back out and onto the toilet seat, move the shower seat to the sink, where there was just enough room if I didn’t open the door. This took a lot of spoons. It would wipe me out for like half a day, which is why I’d mostly shower every other day and just hope I wasn’t too stinky in between.

Honestly, though, I was kind of getting to the end of my rope. My rope is long, even with the disability, but it does eventually run out and I had a moment that I wrote a Note about, where it totally frayed. And after I fell apart about how hard it is to live in a disabled body (spoiler alert: It’s hard), I made appointments at the local (not super-accessible, but manageable) spa and got my legs waxed, my eyebrows tinted and threaded, and a pedicure. This might not sound like a treat, especially if your idea of body waxing is based on The 40-Year-Old Virgin, but after two months in a bathroom where I couldn’t shave or put on makeup or anything, I just wanted to feel pretty. Also my legs are numb from the knees down anyway, so the eyebrow threading was actually the most painful part.

We hit a little snag trying to get rid of the Rollator (I have three at home and really didn’t need to schlep a fourth back), because Oxfam wouldn’t take it! It doesn’t take “medical” devices. I wanted to point out that this wasn’t a CPAP, it’s not like a doctor prescribed it, but no. Luckily, our friend discovered that her church could use it so we donated it to them via her. And then we went to the wine bar again, and back to the French restaurant we loved, and then we headed for London.

And now we are in London, in a hotel with a fully accessible room and bathroom, a shower that fits a shower chair AND a built-in seat, a gym that has space for my wheelchair, and an excellent in-hotel Thai restaurant. AND when housekeeping came by while I was typing and Michael was out for a walk, I could get myself easily to the lobby cafe alone, where I was sitting reading my phone when an employee asked if she could bring me a complimentary cappuccino. Um, okay! Michael says this coming week at this London hotel (not the kind of place we usually stay but we’re here with a trip sponsored by the theater that I serve on the Board of) is for me, after the two months for him. I am very happy to take him up on it.