
I have a question for you to consider: what do knee scooters and writing have in common?
Whoever would have guessed that my recent foot surgery would prompt me to think about the writing process?
But first, let me share my story, and then I'll explain what knee scooters have in common with writing.
Anyone ever propelled themselves around the house in a wheelchair, or on crutches, or on a knee scooter? If the answer is ‘yes’, you will probably be able to identify with my hiccups, challenges and modest, but feel-good sense of achievement, when I managed to crack the required skill of knee scooting successfully around my own house.
After recently, having an operation on my right foot, I was given strict instructions that the ground was off limits for my recovering foot, for six weeks.
From the first moment that I put my left foot on one side of my newly acquired knee scooter, tentatively balancing my right knee on the knee pad, I knew I was in for a rocky ride – or rather, scoot. My first foray into the tricky art of steering the scooter was launched with the help of a physio. In the hospital, I learnt to propel myself forward and to reverse, but what I didn’t learn was how to negotiate around tight corners.
That I learnt, by trial and error, at home. Picture a passage with a tight left turn into the bathroom. Imagine manoevering – or rather twisting – a scooter into that narrow space! Oops. You nearly knocked your foot against the wall. And whatever you do, don’t put your foot on the floor as you lower yourself into a seated position. And remember to slide gently sideways onto a box to avoid stabbing your foot into the scooter wheel. And when you wash your hair, make a cosy towel pillow on which to rest your foot before leaning over the basin, propped up by your make-shift towel pillow.
When all your ablutions are done and you scoot along to your kitchen, don’t be too eager: careful, slow movements are recommended.
Making a simple salad has never been more challenging: the bits of lettuce dropped on the floor remain exactly where they fell, together with the naartjie peel from yesterday that didn’t quite make it to the bin; the water to boil your egg has to gingerly slide across the counter onto the hob, and it’s a vigilant stretch to the switch on that stove; the olive packet which you’ve managed to retrieve from the fridge door has to be sliced open at the sink which, unless you’re a contortionist, has to be done sideways.
Success at last! Salad made. Seated at the dining room table. Foot up on an adjacent chair. Lean back to enjoy your meal. Until – it’s time to wash the dishes, so the skilful art of steering your knee scooter begins again.
I can’t help reflecting that knee scooters and writing share certain similarities...
Here's my take on the job of guiding a knee scooter and the process of writing a book:
Happy writing!