My dad's hidden disability, through my eyes

When you think of someone with a disability what do you think of? We all have something that instantly comes to mind or someone we know. Mine is my dad and his invisible disease, type 1 diabetes which he was diagnosed with as young as eleven.

Four years old was my first memory of my dad not being quite right, the realisation when mum and I found him lying there in the pathway, just a street away from our home. He had my teddy in his hand but unable to make much sense- he was having a low-hypo which changes his perspective of the world and if you're on the outside looking in, he looks drunk.

You know what it's like when a child loses their favourite toy or teddy because usually, you're the one hunting for it. This is what he was doing for me. Surrounded by flats and houses my dad's sugar level dropped and when he tells me what happened before we found him, it breaks my heart a little.

A fast fall to the concrete pavement and instead of people helping him, passers would step over him shaking their heads, people peered through their curtains in disgust mistaking him for being just another guy who has had one too many. All he needed was someone to stop, a sugary drink or even a 999 dial to bring him back to his senses.

I just remember being in my pink nightdress, my school shoes and an oversized jumper sat beside him while the paramedics were feeding him and checking him over and yet, he still had time to smile and give me my rescued 'Wolfie.' This was my first memory of realising how serious and life-changing my dad's disability was and how I needed to make sure I learned how to look after him with my mum.

Thinking back to primary school, I remember more about travelling up to Oxford hospital with my mum and dad (sometimes by ambulance) more than my actual schooling. If there was a donor that matched and he was next on the transplant waiting list, dad needed to get there immediately which meant a road trip. It was hard seeing him through the transplants and not being able to do much.

After his first rejected kidney transplant, he had a kidney and pancreas which failed. His brother donated him one which lasted ten years until 2020. It hasn't been easy for my dad because between this all, he has had many operations and truthfully it's been hard watching him go through all of this and having to recognise when he needs something whether he is high sugared or low.

This Christmas I almost lost my dad again and thankfully he was in the right place, the right time. The NHS nurses pulled him out of that dark place and put him straight back on dialysis saving him.

“It was far too bloody close, I want to live every day to the fullest.”

His mental health, his appearance, his attitude is refreshing and honestly, I am proud of him. It is a massive weight off my shoulders knowing he is taking care of himself and currently on the waiting list for what we hope, his final transplant.

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