It’s my wife’s birthday.
A year ago yesterday I was flown back to the UK in a little jet, and wheeled into London Bridge Hospital, where I stayed for about a month.
Every hour or so I recall the sensation of starting to choke on my own lung secretion , prompting me to ring some sort of bell to call the nurse ( who was sat sort of behind me 24/7 ) to stick a long tube down my tracheotomy pipe into my lungs, whereupon I had to try to cough as hard as I could ( about as hard as a canary ) to expel green/ yellow gunk from the depths of my lungs. This would go on for a minute or so.
Unable to speak still, I could only communicate by gesture/ croak, though it was nonetheless a lot better than it had been..
So I missed my wife’s ‘party’, some friends in a park in Chiswick, with trestle tables and lots of wine, I guess all in fact having a very good time, feeling able to be happy in front of Dani properly, now that I was officially unlikely to die.
They all missed the park closing time, so all got locked in and had the choice of scaling the 10 foot walls/gates or calling the Parky ( Welsh word ) to let them out. Probably mindful of the risk of falling…. and the consequences, they called the Parky, who chastised the 30 strong group of 40 plus year olds, like schoolchildren for a good 5 minutes, I hear, then unlocked the gates.
So this year, I’m awake, fully conscious, can speak, bought Dani a present, made her a card ( whilst sat on the loo yesterday ) – can’t beat a homemade crap card, I think – maybe I should patent ‘ madeonthebog.com’ whilst it’s available – and can even spend the day with her and go out tonight too. This time last year a sip of wine tasted like methylated spirits – now it tastes like wine again; at least I think it does, maybe I can’t remember how wine tasted before?
Dani’s gone for a birthday run – Christ, since my crash she’s adopted habits that were only mine before – hence my chance to write this.
Last week Alwyn ( my bro ) was over from the States, so lots that met him in Toulon hospital came to our house for a happier reunion – a really cool night at our house – was pretty emotional for all those there I think. Had I died, I don’t think Dani would have suggested a soirée, but you never know.
They could have got a crew together for a seance?