HERNE BAY
The Little Restaurant on the Prom
A childhood memoir of life before polio, and immediately after, and my magical childhood adventures in and out of a wheelchair
Mickey Spearie
At Cheyney Hospital I met Mickey Spearie. Mickey ruled our hospital ward like a king. As a new recruit I had to be vetted by Mickey; given the okay. We were all under his wing, like a brood of limping, helpless chicks. Even the nurses respected him.
Mickey was twelve; the eldest. We were a strange, crippled crew of kids. Little Pam, strapped in her wheelchair, a rubber bottle swung beneath her like a deflated udder to catch the waste she couldn't feel. Rosemary, only six years old, she was woken every morning at seven without fail. They had to exercise her limbs or she couldn't move, Rheumatism at six years old, an old lady who would never know what it was to be young. And then there was me: wheelchair-bound but hopeful. Already a calliper and a plastic spinal jacket: already clinging upright to bedrails.
Mickey just sat in his bed and watched, encouraging us all. He called us cowards when three steps seemed like a mile. ''When are you going to walk, Mickey?''
''One day,'' he said, ''one day.''
Mickey's body was curled round like a spring. Sometimes he would demonstrate how tall he was by trying to stretch his body the full length of the bed. Everyone admired how tall he was. All Mickey knew of the world was his 'big cushion' that was placed in front of the window that overlooked a harbour on the rare occasions that he was allowed home. ''Perhaps I'll skipper a boat one day,'' he said.
It was visiting day; all the parents were there. My big day had arrived: I was going home. I did the rounds saying goodbye, clutching my new sticks. Mickey's mother just sat and looked at me, her eyes full. Mickey said that he would be going home for good one day.
He lived to be seventeen. Mickey never walked. I learned from him that you don't need to be able to walk in order to be a leader. All you need is the ability to draw strength from weakness. Mickey had that ability, and gave it till he died.
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