Bloody hell, just look at the state of my insides.

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I had another look at this CT scan. It was done in May ie 3 months ago.
If you look at how many ribs are not attached to anything, it’s scary.

I’ve no idea how the right side of my chest is still fairly normal looking.
When I feel with my fingers, it’s all such a mess.

I saw Dickon, the other day. He was the first on the scene, the first to find me in the road.
I did ask him to write down for me how it was, so I know.
He described how I was conscious and lucid throughout the hour and a quarter that it took for medical assistance to come, how I was on my front, on my right side ( my weight on all the ribs on that side – and EVERY one had been broken )
I’d pleaded with him to just turn me over, he said, to reduce the pain, the terrible ‘pressure in my chest’.
He wouldn’t do it, he said, not knowing that I was already paralysed beyond hope.

He said I kept trying to lift up my chest, doing a push up/ a press up, but he had to keep pushing me down, back onto my 12 broken ribs, believing that that was the wisest thing to do.

I begged him and he refused to release me from my unbearable pain.

Dickon did the right thing, he was right to force me to remain in the same position. Seventy five minutes of my pleading must give him nightmares to this day.
Johnny B, there also, said Dickon was ‘ amazing; just stayed with me, talking to me, stroking my head’

I want to thank him for what he did, and for staying with it, for resisting my will, which I’m sure was very strong!

The thing is, a press up would have been easy for me, ordinarily, even if he’d been standing on my back.

But with 12 broken ribs, a broken collar bone and a broken shoulder blade, all on the same side, I couldn’t quite manage it.

Perhaps mercifully, I don’t think I remember a thing, but then again I’m not actually certain of that because when I said, the other night, was I saying ‘ please, please, don’t let me back be broken, don’t let me be paralysed’ he said that yes, that was what I was saying.

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