Stories from the Edge - Volunteer Now

In those distant and not so distant days ‘the disabled’ in Ireland could be sent away to hospital institutions that had their originsin the Poor Law. Those without private means were often shut up in the home until they died – usually prematurely.Mothers or other family members bore their cross with a dignity. In Angela’s case she was packed off to a convent schoolsomewhere in the Irish midlands. The cocky self-assured young person must have resembled a paraplegic Olivia Newton John.She arrived at the convent showing off a lacquered hair do - so popular in the early 1960s, drainpipes and a white leather jacket.However, Mother Superior and the sisters weren’t impressed with the initial contact with this alien from another world whowas opening up to the youth revolution in music and style. It was not too long before Angela was shown the door and toldnever to darken their doorsteps again. This was one set of steps that had been a blessing in disguise!It was the prospect of being buried before her life had begun that horrified a young Angela. Her mother’s words ‘You and meAngela…alone’ haunted the teenager. In those days the medical facilities, which many now take for granted, were non-existentfor a young working class girl from Malin Head. A kindly medical consultant in Derry was so moved by Angela’s condition andrealising she had great potential moved mountains to get her into the world famous Stoke Mandeville Spinal Injuries Hospitalin Buckinghamshire.Stoke Mandeville was pioneering radical techniques in the rehabilitation of paraplegia. Many of these new techniques weredeveloped as a result of the Second World War when young war casualties were shown that there was life after horrific injurycaused during the fighting. When Angela arrived many of those receiving treatment were the young casualties ofroad accidents.Angela, a shy retiring youngster of just 14, left her isolated home for the bright lights of the big city. There were no televisionsin North Donegal and Angela did not know what to expect. The experience turned out to be traumatic. Angela still remembersseeing her first black person, a ward sister. Today Angela, somewhat still embarrassed by her behaviour, admits "I was frightenedand hid under the bedclothes.”Later the sister and Angela were to become the best of friends. The quiet youngster soon realised that she had a future. Doctorsand nursing staff insisted that she and other disabled young folk at the hospital had to get on with their lives.When she returnedhome to Ireland a year later, Angela had metamorphosed into what she now described as a ‘cheeky bitch’.She immediately went about applying her new knowledge.The first to witness the new found aplomb were the nuns at the WestMeath convent. Perhaps the most important issue for Angela was that she discovered that others were also in the same situationas herself. Yet society acted as if they did not exist.Her mother by now had remarried and moved to Derry, which presented the first of many difficulties for the young disabledwoman to overcome – 13 steps that lead to their front door. ‘Thirteen steps’ has now become an analogy for life’s manydifficulties faced by those with disabilities. She pleaded with her mother to move from the house into one more suited for herneeds. In those days such an idea was preposterous. Disabled people were out of sight and out of mind. However for Angela itwas limiting her freedom to move and choose.By the time she was 19, Angela had gone back to school completed part of her education and was applying for jobs. Her socialworker managed to find her a job in Tillie and Henderson’s shirt factory where generations of Derry women had toiled under