Tomorrow I leave here.
I’ve not exactly become institutionalised, but it will be odd not being in hospital.
In some ways the real world will be much more daunting. Wheelchairs are horribly liable to tip over at any time, stones, twigs, kerbs all posing a risk of sudden ejection.
Once out on the ground, I won’t be able to get back in. Not now, anyway.
When I’m a lot stronger, and used to the whole thing, I probably will be able to, using just my arms, but that’ll require practice and confidence and a lot more strength than I have currently.
I’m told that it just comes. I’m regarded as freshly injured – first year and all that – a few years in and it’s all different.
Living life out there with everyone else again, but in this altered state, is a tough proposition.
I’ve got to meet it head on, I realise that, but that’s far easier said than done, I’d say.
Being 4 foot tall isn’t great for your ego, having had another 2 feet for 30 years, by virtue of the ones at the ends of my ankles to stand on.
I dreamt last night I was running around.
Waking to the reality, alone here, is still nasty.
At least I’ll not spend too many nights of isolation from here on.
Can’t wait to see my girls nearly every day.