One of the familiar phrases in Spinal Units is "leave your dignity at the door". Spinal cord injury with its paralysis, its bladder and bowel complications means dignity is hard to maintain when you're in hospital, especially at the beginning of your stay. You are prodded and poked and invaded. There is some advantage in not being able to feel all the prodding and poking but it's still deeply shocking.
The debate about assisted suicide on Radio 4 and in the papers this morning reminded me of my time in the hospital. There was a round-table discussion on the radio about the importance of living with dignity: how if you did, then life was worth living. But the idea of dignity, I have discovered, is hugely subjective. My attitude has changed dramatically, largely because it's had to. Well, I suppose I've chosen to live with less dignity in some ways: I go out despite the risk of leaking, I travel despite the risk of falling, I go to venues with stairs despite having to be carried. I know some people who refuse to allow themselves to be carried, some who stay at home because they have once fallen in public. But dignity is a very personal thing. Everyone has to make their own choice about what they will and will not accept. Perhaps it's to do with pride. Perhaps it's also to do with the ultimate end: if I want to go to a show and the only way to get there is to be carried down the stairs, then I'll do so. The means (in that case) justifies the end.
And my attitude to dignity has changed as I've acclimatised myself to new experiences. The first time I asked a stranger to pull up my trousers was horrendous. Now it doesn't bother me (as much). I've explored (and continue to explore) what I'll tolerate: I don't mind being in the hoist at the swimming pool any more. I don't notice people's stares as much. It's an ongoing process for me, but my dignity is my own. I don't want anyone deciding that my life isn't worth living any more because they think my life lacks dignity.
