I fell down the stairs and it changed my body forever… I was so scared but I refused to let it ruin my sex life

IT'S been nine months since I met my partner Greg on a dating app, and I still get flutters of excitement at the prospect of spending the night with him.

Showering and slipping into sexy lingerie, I’ll apply my favourite scent before lighting some candles to create a romantic mood in my home.

However, my preparations for our time together require more planning and assistance than other women’s.

Since a freak accident in 2014, I have been tetraplegic – meaning I’m paralysed from the chest down, with limited movement in my arms.

As a wheelchair user who requires round-the-clock care, one of my carers, who I call my PAs, will help me with all of the simple feminine tasks that others take for granted.

While I can thankfully still eat and drink independently, as well as do things like my hair and make-up, I need help to get in and out of my wheelchair, and sitting up in bed.

My accident turned my life upside down, but one thing I refused to give up on has been my pursuit of love, fun and good sex.

When Greg arrives to see me, my PA retreats to her room in my flat, giving us the space to enjoy an evening of intimacy and fun together.

Just because I’m disabled, why should I not want passion in my life?

It’s a huge source of frustration that society assumes those with disabilities automatically lose their libido and desire for romantic connection, along with our mobility.

So, rather than let romance become a taboo in my life, I’ve become an advocate and campaigner for others like me, sharing my experiences to raise awareness – and stress that we are as deserving of love and intimacy as anyone else.

Before meeting Greg, I went on good, bad and awful dates. I’ve met some lovely men, but I’ve also fended off those with an inappropriate interest in disabled women, and received some condescending messages.

Now, aged 45, I’ve fallen in love – something I wasn’t sure would ever happen.

In March 2014, I’d been out for a meal with friends near my home in London. Returning home, I was desperate for the loo, so ran up the stairs – losing my footing around the sixth step and falling backwards to the floor.

My memories of what followed are hazy. I know my housemate found me, paramedics arrived and I was rushed to hospital where I had surgery. I wasn’t conscious enough to realise I couldn’t feel much of my body, that I’d suffered a serious spinal cord injury.

Why should I not want passion in my life?

Initially the strong drugs I was on stopped me realising I couldn’t feel my legs, but I felt so confused and scared; what had happened to me?

Soon, doctors gave me an answer. I had a C4 and C5 spinal cord injury – affecting the fourth and fifth vertebrae in my neck – and the damage wasn’t fixable. I would never walk again and any movement in my arms would be limited.

At first, it was impossible to absorb, let alone accept, what they were telling me.

I was 34, a successful bridal hair and make-up artist, running my own business and travelling all over the world. Now, I was facing a life where I couldn’t even use the shower unaided.

At the time of my accident, I’d been single for around six months. My last relationship, with a man called James, had lasted five years, but had run its course.

A couple of days after my accident, still coming to terms with what had happened and unable to process what my future might look like, I was stunned to see an email from James, telling me he missed me.

He had no idea about my accident, but to me it felt like fate.

Now, aged 45, I’ve fallen in love

Replying, I told him what had happened and the next day he was at my hospital bedside, ignoring the tubes and beeping machines, kissing me as if everything was just as it had once been between us.

After two months in hospital, I was transferred to Stoke Mandeville in Buckinghamshire, which has a specialist spinal injuries centre.

A month after I moved there, doctors allowed me to leave for the night to spend time with James at a local hotel. Though they didn’t realise it – no one had ever brought up the topic of sex with me – we had decided this would be our first attempt at resuming our sex life.

I felt nervous. We’d kissed and cuddled in my bedroom at the spinal unit, and even engaged in some foreplay, but the prospect of having sex again was daunting.

Prior to my accident, I’d been sexually confident; I loved intimacy and the connection it created. I wanted that again but now, I had no idea if I would be able to feel anything, or give him any pleasure.

I also had no idea how James would feel about it compared to our sex life before. But I was ready to find out.

It would, thankfully, prove to be a deeply positive and defining moment in my emotional recovery.

I re-learned how to have sex

Sex with a disability was a completely new experience. James had to lift me into bed and help position me – and there were some limitations with those positions and the ways in which I could move and touch him – but it didn’t matter. I could still have sex, give a man pleasure and, crucially, experience it myself. When I orgasmed, it felt so empowering. It was an amazing moment.

In February 2015, I moved into an adapted ground floor flat in London, with a care package provided by my local authority that included round the clock assistants. After almost a year in hospital and rehab, I was determined to re-start life and be as independent as possible.

Completely new experience

It took time to adjust to my PAs always being around, alongside James and I spending time together.

It was a steep learning curve, figuring out how to be in a relationship as a disabled woman. I was very firm that I didn’t want James to be my carer; I wanted to maintain that separation so he saw me as his girlfriend, not a patient.

With James, I re-learned how to have sex within the parameters of my disability, but without compromising on satisfaction.

We experimented with things like using a wedge on the bed so I could be in different positions, or he’d hold my hips steady with my hands secured to the headboard so I could be on top.

In 2020, after another four years together, James and I split amicably. There was no big reason, things just ran their course between us.

It was then I found myself, for the first time, as a single woman in a wheelchair on the dating scene.

I was completely transparent in my dating app profile that I am disabled, using a photo of me in my wheelchair. I understand that for some men disability is a deal breaker, so I didn’t want to waste their time or mine.

While I wasn’t expecting to find ‘The One’ online, I was hoping for some fun and companionship, the opportunity to flirt and be romanced. And I hoped sex wasn’t in my past too.

Having been unsure if I’d get any interest, I actually received quite a lot.

The downside of being visibly disabled on dating apps is that I did attract men whose interest felt creepy rather than genuine

Like the man who messaged telling me he wanted to suck my paralysed toes. Or the one who asked if I liked to have sex in my wheelchair.

Then there were the men who sent patronising messages like ‘you’re quite attractive for someone in a wheelchair’ and ‘what do you all day?’

But over the years, I did go on some really enjoyable dates, usually with older men who were more mature.

I was intimate with a few men, although I never had sex with any of them; we didn’t reach a point where I wanted to take it that far. They were, I believe, pleasantly surprised by how capable I was and not shy about them giving directions!

Then, last year, Greg and I ‘matched’ on the app Hinge and he messaged me.

He too had learned to live with disability.

In 2011, on a golfing holiday, he fell and banged his head. After walking into the ambulance, he collapsed and ended up on life support, almost dying as a result of the frontal lobe brain injury he’d sustained. He survived, and after a year in a wheelchair, learned to walk again, although he was left with a significant limp and relies on a crutch.

The accident also impacted his short-term memory and made it impossible for him to return to his career in investment banking.

Messages progressed to Facetiming one another and last August, six months after we’d initially matched, we had our first date – a lunch in Oxfordshire, between our homes in London and Solihull.

The connection was instant; his incredible smile melted my heart, and we had our first kiss before the meal was even served!

I saw in Greg positivity, resilience and someone who has experienced the fragility of life and now grabs it with both hands – just like me.

We haven’t looked back since that first date. We see one another most weekends – he’ll drive to London or one of my PAs will drive me to Solihull.

Greg, who volunteers at a rehab facility and is a public speaker, had never been in a relationship with a disabled woman before, so I’ve been his guide in the bedroom.

Together, we’ve brought lots of creativity, experimenting with positions; we’re even thinking about how we can incorporate the hoist I use into our sex life!

With Greg, I feel desired, safe and loved, and it’s wonderful after those years on dating apps to feel this way.

With him, I have unlocked a future filled with laughter, love and, of course, great sex.

Follow Heidi and Greg on @heidiherkes and @gregweston1976