Splish, Splash Bouce

We've all had our grievances and gripes about the NHS. It can get things wrong, from a hopeless lack of GP appointments to a waiting list longer than your arm, my arm and so-and-so-over-there's arm put together for any appointment not deemed urgent. And as Beadzoid wrote this week, it can get things badly wrong. But today, I just wanted to have a little rave because it also can get things right. And when it works, it works really well and makes a difference to the life of normal people. 

This morning, we went to a group arranged by NHS community paediatrics in our area called 'Splish, Splash, Bounce'. I am lucky to live near a big teaching hospital with a huge and greatly respected paediatric department that coordinates community outreach exceptionally well. Today we started an 8-week course of hydrotherapy and rebound treatment (physio on a trampoline). It also has some other umbrella services that run alongside this group and if nothing else, is a brilliant resource of meeting parents in a similar situation. The group is especially for babies and pre-schoolers with additional needs, particularly those with physical disabilities from the milder end of the scale like us to the much more severe end. 

We went last year, and whilst I enjoyed it and Wriggles loved being in the water, I always felt out of place. We hadn't come that near a diagnosis yet and as she was only a year old I had a horrible feeling that maybe I was imaging things and making a drama out of everything, using her prematurity as a shield. Last year other group members all seemed to have "proper" diagnoses and recognised conditions under the belt. They were all more of a toddler age and their parents seemed so more savvy-in hindsight because they had been dealing with this longer. This year, we are in that position and in the year that has elapsed we did get our diagnosis which in part has made things a little easier in that I don't just feel like a mad moaning woman with "a feeling in my bones" that something is amiss. We have found that secret world of multiple therapies, medical assistance and untangled some of the whats, whys and hows. In many ways, I am still very new and naive to this all. I am still at time struggling to accept, to find where we fit in. But this year, I felt much more comfortable and also more aware of things and in turn, more grateful services like this were on offer to us. Last year, a niggling part of paranoid-me thought they think I'm making it up, they're calling my bluff inviting us to special needs groups to see if I crack and suddenly decide nothing is wrong. Now I have researched more thoroughly, read up more, tried to access more things with varying degrees of success and accepted that my child needs some extra help, and I know all too well that services are greatly strained and really, you don't get offers of things that will not be beneficial! The group is number-controlled so the children don't get overwhelmed and so the physiotherapists can pay due attention to each child. As well as the physios present (in water and on trampoline) there are early years workers whom are like portage workers and people trained in speech & language and occupational therapy. This means that using signing as Wriggles does, does not stand out but is accepted and encouraged and there are people on hand to teach new signs. And some of the group leaders even have an idea what she might be going on about, rather than just waving her arms wildly whilst gabbling! Between the hydrotherapy and the rebound, there is a snack time which for us doubles up as feeding "therapy". All the adults know and understand oral aversion and quietly encourage and support, rather than shoving biscuits in her face and shouting "corrrrr bet you're glad she doesn't eat a million chocolate buttons to rot her teeth like my one!". They offer a mix of snacks to try and explore different sensory reactions rather than trying to be the most organic/healthy/cheapest/trendy buffet as so many of the children have feeding issues. They don't bat an eyelid at giving Wriggles an empty beaker so she can be like the children who can drink. I don't have to explain a thing. It is simply, bliss. Last year I feared I was just a bad parent holding my daughter back. This year, I know I am trying until I am blue in the face but that our road is a bit jumbled up.

I would be happy paying to access a group, so to have it on the NHS is icing on the proverbial cake. It is such a relief to know that there are services to help both child and parents. There are so many stories of children being failed by lack of access to things that when you have a positive experience, like this, it makes you very grateful. We have had our own share of care that ranged from scornful to downright unhelpful and so opportunities like these make up for it a bit. It is also a reminder that the NHS should not just be viewed as a luxury. It is the National Health Service, not an add-on. Without it, millions of people would be left to flounder in both development and health. The NHS is not just about hospital procedures or primary care trusts, it is about making the lives of people more comfortable and facilitating Independence. It is about support as much as treatment. And today, it got things just right.




....and in true NHS fashion, I just recieved a letter through the post for our next respiratory follow up. Despite our consultant wanting to see us in under three months time, we cannot have a slot until June and even then they can't gurantee us seeing our resignated consultant. You win some, you loose some...sigh.

Oh me lads...

Blaydon Races painted by William Irving, 1903

Yesterday I decided to get into the spirit of Wriggles' acquired Geordie heritage and join in the celebrations for 150 years of the famous Blaydon Races, written by George, or Geordie Ridley. He wrote and performed the song in 1862, first singing it in the music saloon at Balmbras which was also the place where people would congregate before setting off to see a horse fair at Blaydon race course. The ballad tells of a fairly fictional event of a bawdy bus ride along the route, but the characters and places mentioned in it were are real and can be traced today. The Blaydon Road Race, as is more familiar today, has been going since 1981 and happens annually, as the song states "on the 9th of June". The song is often referred to as being the Geordie 'National Anthem' and is one any friends from the North East can recite by heart whether they like it or not!

The amassed crowds

One of the many events scheduled around Newcastle and surrounds, was a day of music and celebration by Grey's Monument organised by the Sage Gateshead, our outstanding centre for music. Amongst performers, the County Durham born Graeme Danby, one of the stars of the English National Opera would be performing both the traditional ballad and a new version for 2012, with lyrics compiled by the listeners of BBC Newcastle to mark the changes that have taken place in the 150 years. It was really quite heart warming to see hundreds of people gathered of all ages out of a warmth and pride in the song and the strength of both community and identity in this area. When Graeme Danby was performing the new song it was such an atmosphere; the hairs on my neck stood up and a lump came to my throat as the crowd bellowed along with the traditional choruses. Everyone clapped and cheered along, and any of the musicians who were not on stage just started up in the crowds making for a truly special performance. A variety of talented Northumbrians played throughout the afternoon, and then at the end of the day, everyone came together again for the traditional and much-loved song. Song sheets were handed out to the crowds, and a sense of anticipation was crackling. It was as if the earlier song was forgotten; this was what it was all about, the history and heritage of these people. At 6pm, the 4000 amassed runners started the race from Bigg Market, Newcastle out to Blaydon and celebrations ran on into the night.

Rather like the Jubilee, I was highly sceptical about the whole affair and put it down quickly as not my kind of thing. I had heard the song bellowed by football fans and although appreciated the painting, was not very keen on it. I thought it would be a good day out for us though, and that Wriggles would enjoy the music and that it would be something to tell her about as she gets older, especially if we stay here and develop a strong sense of place. After all, it is not always 150 years of anything everyday, far less with a concert attached to it. I may have a slight Scrooge-attitude to many mass events, but I am determined not to let that spoil my daughters fun and innocence. If I have to shut up until she can make her own mind up, so be it! But, like the Jubilee street parties, I was pleasantly surprised and swept away in the cheerful and friendly nature of it all. I actually found it slightly emotional; the strength of the celebration in belonging and history. My father has always been fascinated by under-told history, like folklore and things passed orally, particularly song, in communities and families and it is not until I had Wriggles that I appreciated the importance of keeping small fragments alive and treasured, as somewhere down the line if not all the way along, someone will be fiercely proud and engaged in their history.

Race down Collingwood Street

I was born and raised in the South East where no one seems to give two hoots about where they came from. I certainly feel little allegiance to where I grew up. Fond, yes, but unless I specifically believe in something like some of it's services or a place, then I wouldn't go out of my way to stand up for it. Traitor? Who knows. Moving up north, one of the biggest surprises was the fierce pride that people have in the North East. There is really such a sense of people pulling together and celebrating and safeguarding the history, traditions and culture around it which is wonderful especially in an over changing world. Whatever people think about how things are today and the differences between the new 'culture rich' Newcastle compared the the industrial city famed for far more working class fare, they refuse to let the past lie forgotten. Even if much of the city is now unrecognisable to the past, especially for a newcomer like me who has only ever seen the product of a huge regeneration project, it will always be remembered and both the community spirit, independence and sense of place will always linger in families.

My Hinny

Altogether now....

 "I went to Blaydon Races
Twas on the ninth of June
Eighteen Hundred and Sixty Two
On a summer's afternoon
I took the bus from Balmbras
And she was heavy laden
Away we went along Collingwood Street
That's on the Road to Blaydon

Oh me lads, you should've seen us gannin
Passing the folks along the road
And all of them were starin'
All the lads and lasses there
They all had smilin' faces
Gannin along the Scotswood Road
To see the Blaydon Races..."

My Little Princess

I don't think Wriggles is particularly patriotic. She consented to wearing a red-white-and-blue dress (it was one of the only clean items of clothing) but this photograph captured the split second before she threw her crown, lovingly hastily cut out from cardboard and stapled, on the ground and promptly sat on it.

I am not normally very patriotic or royalist. Normally I am a bit on the cynical Scrooge glass-half-empty side of the table, but since having Wriggles I have lightened my mood and taken pleasure in the small things. One of which, is people being nice to each other. Actually, maybe that is not a small thing. There are some very depressing things out there and some very aggressive events, so when a community or group of relative strangers get together for the day and bake cakes free of charge and swap stories, it is really rather magical and refreshing. It might all sound a bit twee, but having gone to a street party this weekend I am fully signed up to the Nice People club.

My parents and grandparents have long lamented the loss of community, and despite growing up in a relatively small, quiet and pleasant village, I can't say I have many memories or much notion of community. I am ashamed to say, I don't know the names of one set of my neighbours and can count the number of conversations had with with on one hand. Community seems rather lost in today, at least where I live in a city suburb. So it was a wonderful surprise to see a street filled with people making merry, with all ages represented and even sulky teenagers looking marginally less sulky for the day. Families, singletons, friends, strangers...there were all there and all sharing together. 

Now that is something to remember.