It's mission day. Merv is bowling with his support worker and I am concerned about his balance and how he is playing. I tell the support worker Mel and I will be down to watch Merv. I explain I am concerned about him falling. I don't tell him I going to video Merv playing. We arrive just after 10am and the support worker is already chatting to the regulars and doing his Fred Flintstone bowling impression. I don't have to encourage Merv to have his turn. He is up, choosing his ball and getting ready to send the ball flying down the lane towards the skittles. He has done this for years but his dance is now a little off centre and his feet fly in every direction. I hold my breath, half close my eyes and he flirts with danger and gets an almighty strike! Ten pins down! I smile, he is on a mission himself. He doesn't want me to pull the plug and end his weekly tradition and joy. Who am I who would consider such a thing?
I am the person who cares for him. I am responsible for his well being and health. The question lingers as I watch him dance unceremoniously driving the ball bouncing against the barriers and heading forever towards the celebrated pins. Merv hits a 'spare' and the man on the loud speaker announces him as the first person since announcing a Paddle Pop (ice cream stick) prize to the next person who has a strike or a spare. Merv takes his Paddle Pop and in a matter of minutes he has almost finished it with puddles of it staining his trousers. I have taken at least four videos of his bowling and I have no answers. I can show the videos to our local OT and ask for her opinion, but I suppose I already know what she will say. Broken bones and other injuries are not what we are chasing. I don't know what the answer is, I don't want Merv to suffer broken bones or a broken spirit.
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