Possum Means I AM ABLE It seemed incredible that only the previous year we had been finding barely sufficient time to keep ourselves functioning. Now, our lives were so full of activity. After all our fears, it was both gratifying and relieving to know that ours would not be just a day-to- day existence. There would be time and energy for other things, and the Toy Library needed both. There was a constant flow of letters and phone calls, in connection either with the Club or the Toy Library. Jack's typewriter worked overtime, while only I could use the telephone. Hardly a day went by without our being involved in some aspect of our secretarial partnership, and we were carried along on a wave of enthusiasm. Then as Jack began concentrating even harder on promoting the Toy Library he had little choice but to relinquish his secretaryship in the St Raphael Club, where he had gained a valuable two years' experience. His loyalties were torn, but once satisfied that the Club was left in good hands he could get properly to grips with cementing this new project of ours. Officially, I was the secretary of the Toy Library and Jack the treasurer but as usual, he did all the writing, as well as keeping an eye on everything else. The amount of publicity literature being produced surprised us both, and we now had the Toy Library's own posters displayed at many points in the city and surrounding districts. We worked hard, but it must be said that the rewards were great. There was much good-natured debate on what toys should or should not be purchased, selecting from local stores or from mail-order catalogues. Now, the Toy Library became the subject of most of our periodic public talks, with only an occasional request for us to speak about ourselves. In fact our own routine had faded unobtrusively into the background, to be thrown into relief again only by the necessity to advertise for a new helper. Even this was not the startling jolt it used to be. But we did turn our attention inwards upon ourselves again before very long. It happened as an indirect result of our need for a new helper that we met Ursula, who offered to help out while we were advertising. She soon became a friend, and we called on her services quite often after that, though not in the same way as we had with Miss Barnes, whom she had known. As an occupational therapist with the new Social Services Department, Ursula's task was to supply necessary aids to disabled people, both young and old, in their homes. It was Ursula, therefore, who told us about some special equipment called "Possum". We had vaguely heard of this somewhat futuristic device, but did not realise that we ourselves might possibly qualify for its free issue from the Department of Health and Social Security. However, Ursula thought that we should try, and explained how to apply through our GP. It was over a year before we had the equipment finally installed, but it proved to be well worth waiting for, and although mainly for Jack's benefit, it also helped me indirectly a great deal. Possum Equipment is an electronic device which enables severely disabled people to control various activities in the home. A sustained sucking motion on a tube activates lights, television, radio and releases an electric lock on the front door. But by far the greater boon for Jack was the added ability to answer the telephone, and to dial calls. In discovering the wonders of Possum, he eventually saved up to buy himself a tape- recorder, and later obtained a page-turner for his books. Each selection is made from an illuminated panel, pausing on the suction tube when the appropriate function is reached. If the user cannot see the panel, he counts a certain number of bleeps. The full range of facilities was available from a similar tube in our bedroom, and from the small micro-switch situated in the living-room. Jack was immensely pleased with this new found independence. "Now you can go out, without worrying about me," he observed, "And when you're busy in the kitchen, you can leave me to answer the door, and the phone". I always grudged interruptions to my kitchen activities. Just when I was conveniently placed at the sink, the telephone or the doorbell would call me away. And Jack had always longed to be more practically useful to me – and now he could be. I was overjoyed for both our sakes. Thus, while seated at his typewriter, Jack could be in virtual control of the whole household! We marvelled frequently at the powers of Possum, and the more so as the Toy Library brought increasing use of the telephone. As an off-shoot of this ongoing business, the Social Services Department suggested that we could perhaps co-ordinate Playschemes for mentally handicapped children during the school holidays. These children could not be included in other playschemes because they needed special supervision; but their parents needed a break. So we started by contacting local schools and colleges for helpers; we needed a one-to- one ratio of helpers to children. Then we soon became entangled in the machinery of local authority in negotiating for transport and financial grants. This was something for which we had not been prepared, and we had to learn new assertive skills. We still derive great pleasure from these playschemes, despite the hurly-burly, and the worries involved in catering for some forty severely mentally handicapped children. I attend the sessions as they are held, during the Easter and Summer holidays, organising the girls with their daily protégés, and making sure that the play leaders have sufficient materials to work with. Meantime, Jack is left holding the home fort from before nine in the morning. He deals with the never ending paperwork, and also organises our helpers into preparing our lunch for when I return at one o'clock. These are among the few occasions when Jack and I have to do things independently of each other. Soon after our Possum equipment had been installed, we became members of the Possum Users Association, an organisation run by the disabled for the disabled. But it certainly did not occur to us at the time that the PUA would be the source of another invaluable amenity for us, and other disabled people in our area. However, on August 19th, 1976, we took delivery of a smart red Ford 90 Transit dormobile, complete with automatic lift on the back, presented to us by the Possum Users' Association. It seemed to good to be true, and we were obviously delighted. The Press were invited to attend the presentation, and the usual publicity followed. The PUA tax and insure the vehicle for any responsible person with a current driving licence. We have to keep it serviced and properly maintained, and to lend it out for carrying other disabled people. Two wheelchair passengers can be accommodated, which is ideal for us. Transport is always a problem with those confined to wheelchairs, and this van has certainly added a whole new dimension to our lives. One of the many benefits of this convenient means of transport was that I could join an Adult Education Course for a couple of terms, deriving great pleasure from dabbing away at still-life oil-paintings. Likewise, our theatre trips increased, and visits to restaurants with friends became an easier proposition. Having had one door opened, it seemed that countless others were leading us further into the world of "normal" people. Small wonder that we often found ourselves making incredulous comparisons with our earlier years!