Watching the London Marathon on the television as a child, I always used to think it was totally amazing that a human being could run 26.2 miles. It seemed like such a super-human feat when I was six. And thirty years on it still does. Which is precisely why it’s Mr K rather than me heading out there tomorrow morning with a six figure number strapped to his chest, an electronic tag on his shoe and vaseline in interesting places.
I often used to wonder why people did it? Why volunteer to put yourself through that? Blisters, chafing, awkward toilet trips, hmm, no thanks. But as I got older I started to understand why people challenge themselves to their limits and sacrifice their own comfort for the good of others.
And then we had Orange.
And then I was grateful to all those tens of thousands of runners who determinedly put one foot in front of the other for mile after mile after mile. And I began to realise that events like the London Marathon are so awe inspiring not just because of the superhuman physical and mental challenge, but because it brings people together.
It is people at our best. Regular, common or garden folk challenging themselves to do something super human, very often for other people who need help.
Every one has their own reason for wanting to run the London Marathon. Because it’s on their bucket list, because they entered the ballot for a laugh and got a shock when the pack dropped on the doorstep announcing ‘You’re IN!’, because they are an athlete, because they want to prove to themselves or others that they can, in memory of a loved one, or because they are raising money for a charity close to their hearts.
The reasons for running are many and varied but for us, for Mr K, it’s because having Orange has opened our eyes. Before we had Orange in our lives there was a whole world we didn’t understand, because we thought it didn’t apply to us. But it does. It applies to anyone and everyone in humanity.
Anyone and everyone could, one day, have a disability. Or a child with a disability. Or a parent who becomes disabled in later life. Anyone and everyone could, one day, become a carer. And while life is easier today for people with disabilities in the UK than it was even five or ten years ago (big up to the DLR for the wheelchair lifts and the Excel Centre for the Changing Places toilet by the way), it can still be a very hard place to be.
In our family, we don’t seem to like to do things the straightforward way either, so of course it should be no surprise to us or anyone else that in having a child with severe and complex disabilities, we also happen to have one who has no diagnosis for his condition. We have absolutely no idea why Orange has the disabilities he has and just about every medical test he has ever had (there have been many) has come back to say he is ‘normal’, whatever that means.
On 29th April 2016 it is Undiagnosed Children’s Day, led by SWAN UK, the small but growing charity that supports families like ours who have an undiagnosed child. It is no exaggeration to say that without SWAN UK we would not be able to cope with all the uncertainties and difficulties that come our way because of having a disabled child who has no diagnosis. With no diagnosis there is no prognosis, no known future, no pathways of care in the NHS to follow and no known programmes of therapy that can help. Everything is an unknown.
But we are not alone. There are thousands of families facing the same challenges. The daily challenges of disability but also the additional load of uncertainty that comes with having no diagnosis (disclaimer: people with some diagnosed but rare conditions face this uncertainty too).
And so, that’s our ‘why’.
Today, Mr K took Orange over to the Excel Centre to get registered for the Marathon. While they were there they took a little video about their experiences and Mr K’s reasons for running London. Have a watch. And perhaps have a think about how you can help.
Everybody can help to normalise disability, because it’s something that any of us can encounter in our lives, and probably will, in some capacity. It’s a small thing perhaps but a smile, instead of a stare, could change the face of someone’s day.
And the bigger thing is that all too often it all comes down to money. Disability is expensive. Support for people with disabilities is expensive. Support for their families and carers is expensive. So we would like to extend a massive and heartfelt thank you to everyone who has sponsored Mr K so far to run the London Marathon to raise money for SWAN UK.
For now, we are all tucked up in bed in our hotel overlooking the river. Significantly more comfortable than last time I sat up in bed looking out at this view while incarcerated in St Thomas’s postnatal ward, and more recently, in actual labour, with said Orange.
Vaseline is on hand, tagged running shoes are by the door, and a last minute dash for nipple band-aids has been made.
So night night from us, and go, go Mr K! See you at the finish line with a cold pint of London Pride.