Wheels.

Wheelchair clinic at school today. Mog's wheelchair was already in school, so her buggy needed to squeeze back into the bus to get her from us to her classroom. We arrived to find no parking spaces, so pulled up outside the main entrance and began to unload to the rapt attention of one class waiting to go out on a trip. Twelve children, several staff, plenty of people to stare as I stomped up and down the ramp offloading a seemingly endless number of children and wheelchairs. And then a concerned receptionist or two who watched as I closed up the bus and drove it round the corner, leaving three children and four chairs stacked reasonably neatly by the front door.

The Wahooligan enjoyed the echoes in the school hall. Little Fish's wheelchairs first, and the fantastically excellent news that her power chair backrest can be easily adjusted. This is great; she's having surgery to her hips next week and will be splinted into a reclined position for the next wee while. She should hopefully still be able to drive her wheelchair which makes me scared but happy in equal measures.

Her little wheelchair next - this is not supplied by the wheelchair service, but it has been agreed that she should have an identical one supplied by education for when she goes to school. So the wheelchair service agreed to measure it up and sort out the ordering. This is also great news; instead of having a static posturally supportive class chair, Little Fish will have a super zippy lightweight wheelchair, and can drive her power chair to and from school each day. She'll have both chairs and her wheeled stander at school, so apart from moving from one chair to the other, she shouldn't need to rely on anyone else to push her about at all. Independence.

Mog next, and it was agreed that she has outgrown her chair and so will need to be recast for a new seat. I'm reasonably sure we agreed that back in January, but hey ho - it's happening now and that's good at least. Next up one tray for her chair. Due to her muscle spasms this needs to be padded top and bottom, which turns a thin sheet of ply into a monstrosity three inches thick. She was whisked off into the therapy room to have this fitted (no room for the rest of us there; it's a tiny room), and came back looking very smart but somewhat vacant.

Vacant did I say? She wasn't doing very much, that's for sure. She wasn't in fact breathing - her arms rested on her tray which was clearly very comfortable and a much better position than dangling down. Unfortunately this had the side effect of pushing her shoulders up, which wouldn't be a problem except that this forced her Hensinger up and into her windpipe.

We lowered the tray a little...

So now she has a beautiful tray which will only ever be used under very close supervision, and until her seat is adjusted, will have to be pushed down as far as possible over her knees - better squished legs than strangulation.

And then we came home, and then we took Little Fish to preschool, and then we picked her up and she was tired and obnoxious. And then the Wahooligan was sick. And I cleaned him up, and he grabbed the cloth I was mopping him with, and rubbed it into his eyes and then flapped it up and down, spraying the house with a fine mist of vomit. And then Mog asked to go to bed at 5.30, and now I can't decide whether I have a house full of poorly children, or just a pile of very overtired ones.

Early nights all round I think.
Tia