Out of Time

As usual I had no expectations of what the day would bring with this talk and awareness table. Always the best way to be. This talk was in a shopping centre that had seen better days. It wasn’t dying, it had already died and was being kept alive by a few shops anchored on the bottom level that had either long or very cheap leases. This health centre was on the top floor that was already pretty devoid of shops and would have otherwise had been mothballed.

I had communicated with the organiser in the week beforehand. He had asked me how long my presentation was. I told him I could talk for thirty or forty five minutes, depending on if I shared my own experience  and questions may add another fifteen minutes on top of that. Without hesitation he said he would take the forty five minute version and he would like an information table.

I got the program and I was to be the first presenter after lunch. I put together the table and there were about 6 other venders with tables who were also presenting. The grand opening was 9.30am and I was ready by about 9.20.

9.30am, came and went. The doors finally opened at 10.30am.

Now I am not going to say anything about certain organisations or groups, when it comes to time keeping. I am going to leave it right there.

There was obviously a miscalculation on how many people would venture out of their beds at 9.30 in the morning. There was not a stampede to the tables when the doors finally opened. I briefly spoke to a few women and even fewer men that had been enticed by their partners to attend. All good, nothing unusual there then. Lunch was at noon and the organisers let the venders select first. Lunch was about 45 minutes, after which I learned one of the presentations had been pushed back so I was going to present second.

My time came and there were three men in the crowd of about eighteen, including the organiser. I was probably about half-way through my presentation when the organiser got my attention. He signalled that I only had 5 minutes left. I mouthed back a ‘What’, short for something with a swear word at the end. He repeated that I only had 5 minutes left. This was unchartered territory for me. I have never had a talk cut short so brutally. I was also momentarily flustered. I hurriedly skipped a number of slides and then just came to my conclusion and didn’t tell my story.

I was professional but absolutely fuming inside. It was now around 2.30pm and I decided that the table had served its purpose and I would be gone by 3pm, even thought the event was scheduled to go onto 4pm. Plus, to be honest, I now just wanted out of there. I noticed that the speaker who came after me was still talking, past the twenty minutes I had had. While I was slowly packing up some of the leaflets, one of the organisers came over to me.

“That was a great presentation, thank you”

“No problem” I said. It clearly was a big problem, and I was being very polite. I didn’t even ask why I had been cut short.

“As an appreciation for our presenters would you like an Amazon or Marks & Spencers voucher?” He asked.

I looked at him like he was joking but he was serious. I momentarily softened as I answered.

“Oh, Marks and Spences then please. Thank you.”

I stopped packing up the table as he disappeared. I was still annoyed, but I was shamelessly also easily bribed too. He came back about ten minutes later and handed me a white envelope with a M&S gift card inside. The presenter who came after me was still talking and showing no signs of slowing down. This wasn’t adding salt but petrol to the wound.

I spent the card the same day – just in case they were going to play a trick on me. I had ‘duck ala protest’ that night. Tasty but still vex.

 

Inclusion Time

It had been a horrible day with work to be fair. Instead of looking forward to this presentation, I wished I was not doing it. I could have had a date night with Ms Malibu and Coke but alas. I had now done about 15 of these presentations for this particular health authority this year. Of course, lets save the best until last.

Weather wise it had rained much of the day and it was dark and gloomy by the time I left work. After a smelly, cough filled tube ride and long rainy walk, I rocked up at the health centre. I went up to reception and announced to the receptionist that I was there to present todays talk. A woman nearby turned around, stopped fiddling with something, smiled and asked,

“Are you Peter?”

“I am indeed” I said, smiling back and sticking out my hand.

“I don’t shake hands” She announced.

OK then, Ellis retracting one grubby paw.

She was in the middle of adjusting the projector for tonight’s presentation. I took over and asked if she had an extension lead. A male health centre worker came over a minute or so later and shot out one of his hands for a handshake and had an  extension lead in the other.  Let’s call him Adam. I didn’t hold out much hope as the projector was more  ‘Fisher Price’ toy projector than anything professional. All of the lights were on in the main foyer, which also blew out the projection and he didn’t initially know how to isolate the lights on our particular side. When they did figure out the lights the focussing of the toy projector wasn’t great and I said this might not work. He then mentioned that one of the rooms upstairs had one bolted to the ceiling.

“So, why are we using this one then?” I asked.

“We have a wheelchair user coming and he cannot fit in any of the rooms, when he normally comes in to see anyone. I am told he can be a handful at times.”

I nodded in agreement. With no lift in the building there were no other options.

I needed to shake the King and started looking around for the toilets. As I turned around, low and behold what was behind me.

Only a lift of course.

I walked over and pressed the button, thinking it was not working, the lift door opened instantly. Now it was a small lift in office terms but 8 people were going to fit in there and not like sardines either. I was completely perplexed. Could this guy be one of those 500lb plus people that you see on American TV shows? Because that would be the only way he couldn’t get in that lift. I asked Adam if I could see upstairs. He took me up to the room and low and behold a perfectly working ceiling mounted projector. It was a job to get the HDMI cable in the projector, it was in some ridiculous position at the back – we had to call in a female worker with smaller hands but once we got in in we were good to go.

I went back downstairs and by now there were about 10 guys assembled and in wheeled the gentleman in his electric chair. He came up to me and asked me if I was tonight’s speaker and I said I was. He shot out his hand and introduced himself – let’s call him David.

“I’ve been sent by Prostate Cancer (and some other group I had never heard of) to assist you tonight”

Cue Peter’s eyebrows and a quick eye dart from side to side.

“I don’t need an assistant, I don’t have an assistant.” I answered, I couldn’t help it but I knew my face changed momentarily.

“Well, they sent me to assist you and if you don’t want that, I will just go home.” He verbally spat that one out.

“I’m not telling you to go home, just that I don’t have an assistant.” I had a brief flash of a not so good newspaper headline.

“Well, if it’s alright then I can tell them my story after your presentation”

“Fine, whatever you want”, I smiled reassuringly.

The electric wheelchair was actually more streamlined across it’s width, than a standard chair, it was just slightly longer. I’d already done the mental calculation that he would get in that lift no problem at all, with room to spare. I informed the guys assembled that we would now be relocating upstairs as the Fisher Price projector was not focussing well enough. As they walked upstairs, I stacked a few chairs together and David was close behind me. I turned left with the chairs and he turned right and pressed the lift button. Inside the room the guys were settling in, I made some room for David and his chair and I went back downstairs again to get just a few more chairs.

David was doing the electric wheelchair equivalent of pacing up and down the reception. I heard him shout the word ‘inclusion’ a couple of times to the health centre worker and another gentleman but didn’t think anything of it.  I took some more chairs up and made a final trip back downstairs to pick up my jacket. The gentleman with Adam was the practice manager and he introduced himself and pulled me aside.

“Peter, we have a bit of a problem. David feels that we have excluded him by moving upstairs. Do you think you could bring them back down again?”

I resisted all the obvious questions about the lift and dimensions or pulling out a tape measure, I just mentally threw up my hands in submission.

“Ok, I will tell them”

He thanked me and walked off to put out the inclusion fire that was threatening to burn the centre down. I walked back upstairs again and gave the seated gents the good news as only I could.

“Sorry gents but there is a wheelchair user downstairs who is kicking off because we are up here. So, we need to go back downstairs.”

Now before anyone has a pop, I have already been chastised by a friend who is an inclusion/safeguarding expert. I pointed out that I said what I said from a moment of being completely upfront with the guys already seated, exasperated and knowing that they would want a reason why I was moving them again. For all I know he could have been claustrophobic – something that I never considered at the time.

I would do it differently now. Hand slapped and accepted.  

There were lots of tuts, a couple of don’t believe it’s, are you kidding? and one comment from a posh dude, “So all of us are being inconvenienced because of one person? Outrageous!”

“Look I am just the middleman” I replied and walked out after them.

Finally, twenty minutes after the allotted time I started my presentation.

I felt like a comic at his very first performance. I almost died on stage. They were not interested in any type of audience participation at all. I just carried on.

Now, let me set up how this guy was sitting so you get the picture. This black guy at the back was sitting at the very tip of his chair, feet straight out and his shoulder just touching the top of the chair. Think of a maths paper with a diagram where you have to guess Pythagoras theorem and you are on the right track. Let’s call him Mr Triangle. He started with the nugget:

“You know everyone is born with cancer don’t you”

“You what?” I almost spat out

“Yeah, you know everyone Is born with cancer don’t you”

I carried on. About 10 minutes later Mr Triangle decided he try again to press another button,

“You know everyone Is born with cancer don’t you. It’s just waiting for something to trigger it. We all have it in us, that’s why this is happening.”

“Have you finished, have you actually finished?” That one I did spit out, loud and with purpose. Mr Triangle went back to his phone and never said another word for the presentation.

On more than one occasion David addressed the crowd with information and if they wanted, he was happy to answer questions afterwards.

I got to the point where I talk about the BRCA 2 gene mutation and the recent decision of the British government to only screen those men with the mutation. The posh guy got the contradiction straight away. Unfortunately, for whatever reason I became the target.

“What do you mean, that’s totally the wrong way round!” He shouted at me.

I stopped, momentarily. I had had it with this lot.

“Look I am getting fed up with you lot. I am here to provide a service for you guys and I feel like I am getting attacked. I’m not having it!”

The remainder of the presentation continued in silence. They applauded at the end, many shook my hand, so I didn’t upset everyone. While I was answering questions and shaking hands, Mr Posh and Mr Triangle both slinked out.

David then addressed the remaining crowd.

“That was a great presentation from my colleague, thank you. I would like to tell you, my story. You don’t have to stay but if you do, I am happy to answer any questions you may have afterwards.”

I gave him the floor. About half the men left.

To be fair he did have an interesting story. I didn’t hear the first part as I was talking to the men that had questions. What I did catch was that he had a motorcycle accident. A  car crashed into his motorbike, leaving him paralysed from the waist down. He may be a pest to some but you cannot argue that he is courageous. He went through the wringer, not wanting to live like this but he met a nurse who he credits with turning his life around.

Now going back to the earlier events of the night. Don’t you dare think he is some soft wallflower.

He is now a wheelchair rugby player who likes nothing better that charging full speed into his opponents. He does not hold back.  On another occasion I would have been very interested to hear him expand on what he said.

Another time.