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Clarence Adoo (Newcastle City Temple) chats to Claire Anderson about living positively with disability.
Reprinted from Salvationist 16 October 2010 with permission.
www.salvationarmy.org.uk/salvationist
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WHEN waking in intensive care some 15 years ago after a car accident, musician Clarence Adoo had to come to terms with the potentially devastating news that he was paralysed from the neck down and would not be returning to his trumpet chair with the Northern Sinfonia. Despite such a life-changing prognosis, Clarence testifies to the assurance of God’s promises and shares how, in becoming paralysed, he became enabled, not disabled.
‘When I came round in intensive care, God said to me that I had nothing to worry about and he was going to look after me; I’ve taken him up on that promise,’ says Clarence. Two weeks after the accident the Chief Executive of Northern Sinfonia visited Clarence to tell him he had a job in mind for him. ‘It provided me with a fantastic lifeline!’ admits Clarence. ‘It’s a great incentive to get up and go to work, thinking I still have something to offer the world and can contribute.’
Avoiding becoming maudlin on all that could have been, Clarence testifies: ‘I have to keep track and say to God how grateful I am for everything that has happened since the accident. I try to keep focused on God and rely on his strength – it’s the only way I can get through the day.’
Getting through the day, I discover on visiting Clarence at home, is no easy task. There is no such thing as a hasty exit for Clarence – getting ‘up and at ’em’ takes a good two hours!
Each morning, using a hoist, two carers move Clarence from his bed to the wet room. He is then washed and dressed before physiotherapy. Only then can he take the lift downstairs to be fed.
‘It takes some getting used to at first because you still think you can be out of bed and in the car in 20 minutes,’ explains Clarence, ‘and you can’t! Some people ask me how I can be bothered to go around the country [for work and Clarence Adoo Trust concerts] when it takes so much organising. So I tell them that if I was a single person with four children, I would still want to do this and it would involve the same level of organisation. It’s something I realise I have to put into my timetable – and it’s worth it!’
Ironically, for Clarence to maintain any level of independence, he depends on 24-hour care. Five day-carers work with him over a fortnight, working a shift that starts at 9 am and ends at midnight.
‘If I need to be somewhere, I can be there without having to come home to change carers mid-afternoon,’ he explains. An overlap between day and night staff allows two people to put him to bed and two to move him out of bed in the morning. The layout of the house creates freedom for Clarence and his carers, allowing them time away from each other. Clarence jokes: ‘I feel like I'm married to them all because we spend so much time together. My carers often say they spend more time with me than they do with their partners!’
Moving around Clarence’s Victorian terraced house in Jesmond, Newcastle upon Tyne, attracts various beeps and whooshes as doors automatically open and close, operated by sensors that pick up Clarence’s movements so he doesn't have to rely on his carer to open doors for him. A computer panel on his chair – the Possum Companion – allows Clarence to carry out various tasks, such as opening the front door, turning his sound system on, calling for his carer, opening windows, turning the TV on and operating his lift.
Before the accident Clarence rented a house in Newcastle but he needed to buy a house to be discharged from hospital. He says: ‘Friends would go round for me and get a shortlist of properties I could look at once a fortnight. I managed to look at two or three before I became really tired.’
Clarence had savings and found support from the Musicians Benevolent Fund and the Musicians Union but then he needed a mortgage. ‘My first problem was that I had a power of attorney, so I needed independence,’ he explains. ‘This meant learning how to write.’ This he did by using his mouth, enabling him to sign documents. With the help of a Salvationist banker, Clarence also managed to challenge outdated documents that would have prevented him obtaining a mortgage. ‘All I have is a voice, which can be powerful, but it’s in other people’s hands.’
After finding his new home, Clarence was out of hospital within a year. He believes he probably had an easier transition than others on his ward. ‘When they went home for weekend visits they would be quite upset as they couldn't go down the little corridor they used to be able to go down, or they couldn't go up the one or two steps there. In going into a new house, I had no preconceived ideas so there wasn't any frustration because I had never been anywhere in the house before.’
Clarence was surprisingly upbeat coming out of hospital. ‘I was really excited about getting back,’ he recalls.
‘A couple of friends, who had visited me regularly in hospital, saw me into the house for the first time and broke down because for them it exaggerated the fact that I couldn't move around without a wheelchair. I didn't know why they were upset – I was glad to be home; they were crying because I was home!’
Spending an afternoon with Clarence offers a great insight into the challenges he faces. As we make our way to his favourite Indian restaurant, he tries chatting, despite it being difficult to ‘drive’ his wheelchair using its chin rest; then comes the challenge of entering the restaurant as his carer, Becky, and the manager help manoeuvre him up the small step and through a tight door space; Becky is then on hand to hold Clarence’s menu, feed him his lunch and offer him his water. He tells me about his ‘alternative shopping’ experiences, for wheelchair-users who can’t access stores. Products are brought out to the street – ‘It’s no fun whatsoever if it’s pouring with rain!’ he jokes.
He also, shamefacedly, admits to momentary lapses of common sense. While on holiday (a group of musician friends committed from the first day of his paralysis to take him away on holiday once a year and care for him) he went out by the pool alone in his chair. After making his way out onto the diving board, to enjoy the experience of the water beneath him, his precarious position became apparent as he realised there was no room for him to turn around to go back! ‘I reversed very slowly back along the board,’ he smiles, ‘I didn't want my friends to find me in the pool!’
It seems that adopting a sense of humour in all circumstances has served Clarence well in keeping his spirits up. He shares anecdotes of assisting at disability meetings that have taken place on upper levels – with no lift! Or relates his involvement with developing disabled toilets for the 2012 Olympics, only to find the meeting venue’s facilities out of order!
How does someone previously able-bodied adapt to life in a wheelchair? ‘You have to focus on the things you can do and not the list of things you used to be able to do. You grow inner strength because you have to deal with all these things, but, in the end, it’s best to be positive, to take stock of the things you can do and focus on those and maybe only look back with gratitude at the support you receive.’
Looking back, Clarence has much to celebrate – 15 years after his accident he has now got some sensation back in his chest and back, and his left arm has shown some regained strength – not to mention recently celebrating his 50th birthday!
Anyone who has met with Clarence will likely tell you about his upbeat outlook on life. He confesses: ‘God has spoken to people and used them to help and support me. It has been amazing how God has provided all I have needed and he has kept true to his promise!’
To organise an event to support Clarence, contact Events and Marketing Co-ordinator Denise Murray on 0191 286 5647 or 07890 885748
• To financially support, send a cheque made payable to
The Clarence Adoo Trust, c/o Nigel Hiscock, 4 Doncella Close, Chafford Hundred, Grays RM16 6HB or visit www.clarence.org.uk for more information