Part 3
Between 2005 and 2009 I was largely confined to a wheelchair, getting out of it from time to time for the purposes of undergoing physiotherapy and trying to regain my mobility by using crutches, walking sticks or a zimmer frame. I applied myself assiduously to each of the physiotherapy regimes prescribed for the recovery period after every operation and, in the autumn of 2010, I had my final operation (left shoulder replacement). Whilst I was recovering from it, I got the news that my mother had had a major stroke.
I had been unable to visit my mother for about nine years on account of being ill and had seen her during this time only when she had traveled to London, usually with my sister. Now, with my last operation behind me, I felt an urgent need to travel north to see her as soon as possible. However, I was unable to leave immediately on account of the fact that, that year, Britain was experiencing a very bad winter. My sister and I finally managed to travel north in December. It was shocking to see our mother in such a reduced state. The hospital had not told us at first quite how bad her condition was but it was extreme: after the stroke, she was never able to walk, or even stand, ever again. This meant that she would have to have round-the-clock care, once she had completed her stay in hospital. We were advised by social services that it would be best if she went into a care home as her level of need was so great. This caused us great sadness as we knew it was something that she had never wanted to happen but, in the circumstances, it was the wisest choice we could have made. We found a care home a mile or so from her house and, at the beginning of January 2011, she was moved into it directly from the hospital. Shortly after this, I returned to London. It came as a great surprise to members of my district when I announced a few weeks later that I was leaving London for good and moving to be near my mother for what remained of her life. At the beginning of April 2011, with everything packed up, my apartment was cleared out and I headed north to start a new phase of my life.
For the record, shortly before leaving London, I received a phone call from an SGI member in the northeast saying that, as I was about to move into their area, they were wondering whether I would like a district responsibility when I arrived! What they had in mind for me was preparing the schedule which, as anyone who has been in the organisation for any length of time knows, is very much a ‘Cinderella’ sort of role – the sort of thing that nobody really wants to do. So, here I was, coming out of 10 years of extreme illness and immobility, moving north to be with my mother who could no longer stand up, and they were already trying to offload an undesirable responsibility onto me! I was aghast. That they should think of offering me any role within the organization prior to my arrival was bad enough but that it should be the schedule – which requires knowledge not only of local members, their accommodation, their willingness to host meetings – made it even worse. I knew next to nothing about the district I was moving into: I didn’t know who most of the members were or anything about them. I also knew nothing about public meeting places that could be hired for the purposes of chapter meetings. This was the SGI all over! I declined politely but was inwardly seething.
After my arrival in the northeast, I attended SGI meetings as a member until, one day, I was approached and asked whether I would consider becoming a women’s chapter leader. Bearing in mind that my mother’s health was going rapidly downhill and I was still struggling greatly with mobility and health issues, this was the most absurd and thoughtless thing I could possibly have been asked to do. The chapter covers an entire rural county and a metropolitan borough with a combined area of 5,095 square metres and I can’t drive! Admittedly, at the time there weren’t members living in all parts of the area, but the potential for people to appear even in the remotest parts was ever-present and this would have necessitated travelling long distances. Apart from the fact that I can’t drive, I choose most of the time not to use public transport as it poses a further set of difficulties to me (including, for example, having to step off trains and buses backwards, which can be very awkward, particularly at rush hours). Naturally, I said ‘No!’.
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