The beast from the east

The beast from the east is truly upon us. Blizzards, gridlocked motorways, children off school, and the first 'Red' level weather warnings the UK has ever seen. It's safe to say that the weather is firmly at the front of everybody's minds. But for me, and other people with chronic life altering conditions, the beast from the east, (as this Siberian tundra has become affectionately known), is the icing on an already difficult existence.

"The Best from the East"
An original cartoon by Rosie P

Snow always highlights an internal struggle for me. The small child inside lights up with delight at the virgin snow outside my window, eager to jump up and get out there, whereas the adult old before her time worries and frets that her joints will be particularly stiff and that day. I want the snowball fights, the snowmen building. Walking in the crisp crunching white stuff to the park dragging my little orange sled behind me before hurling myself down a slope headfirst for an afternoon of endless fun. But that's in the past. Memories that melt away with the snow until the next time we are deluged.

Nowadays they're replaced with worries. "Will my nurse make it to do her shift?". "If she doesn't will the current one have to do a

double shift?" "Am I going to be able to get to my appointment tomorrow?" "What if I do go out to build a snowman and my wheelchair gets stuck, our I catch a cold that then won't shift". My most pressing worry is "What if the TPN nurse can't make it? What do I do about getting fluids and my intravenous meds?". Snow highlights to me just how dependant on others I truly am, and for someone who's worst nightmare is total dependency, that's a very scary feeling indeed.

Snow scape. The beauty of it never gets old

The worst part is the child like wonder and magic is still there, pulling my heart where it cannot go. I'm jealous of the kids out there shrieking with glee, there tiny footsteps peppering the soft white snow. They don't know how lucky they are. I feel barred from the fun, resentful that my vulnerability is being highlighted for all to see. Friends used to invite me out on snow days as a child. I didn't used to go, preferring throwing myself down the park hill with my Dad instead. I'd give anything to be able to do that now.

So as you cheer that school is cancelled, and another day of exploring your winter wonderland beckons, spare a thought for those of us hiding away from the snow restraining our inner child as they scream and kick with every fibre of their being to join in the fun. Think of the ones we rely on too. The nurses, police officers and fire crews who battle come what may to make sure we are safe. For they are hero's, literal life savers. And let's hope the beast from the east passes by soon. 

R wraps up warm indoors as the kids play in the snow