For the last few weeks I’ve had fluctuations in my clarity of my distance vision. As an optometrist, i obviously concluded that this wasn’t normal. However, I’d had 4 huge operations and been on all kinds of new medications, lots of which may have at least partially explained the issue.

For the last 5 days though, I’ve felt very strange, intermittently feeling incredibly tired ( almost instantly ) extremely thirsty and dry mouthed to the extent that I have no saliva to even suck a sweet, a voice that is no better than a whisper,  and a feeling of not really being in the place that I actually am in.

Last night, my good friend Jeremy Day caught a bus with me to Hounslow ( I can’t catch one by myself – not now)  and we went to a Quiz night event to raise money for the political party that he supports. It was good because the team table that I was on included 5 five other mates of mine, that I didn’t know would be there.

The warm up challenge was to build as high a tower as possible with a standard size newspaper. My slightly engineering tendencies appeared, and we built a 5 foot stable tower, under my direction, which was a lot higher than the other 7 teams.

James Cracknell ( team captain and long term buddy ) was moved to draw me a picture ( see enclosed ). Having won more gold medals than most people in the world, I was quite pleased to be decorated by such a sporting legend as himself.

After that promising start ( and the prize of a bottle of wine ) I started to feel very ‘out of it’ again, with spasms too.

As my catheter had somehow broken free earlier, leaving me very wet from groin to mid thigh, I assumed that perhaps the wetness was the problem…

i got a push to the disabled toilet to see if I needed ’emptying ‘ and was surprised to find no urine to get rid of.

I went back to the table, feeling even more light headed than before.

This cycle repeated itself 5 more times in 3 hours, and my quiz contribution steadily declined as the night wore on.

As I’ve no idea as to why I get strange symptoms these days ( being cut off from 60% of your body is a problem when it comes to aches, pains and injuries that you can’t even feel ) there’s no point in seeking the medical expertise of others without a speciality in Spinal Cord injury.

What I did know though, was that I should have pee’d  at least a litre during the evening,  and had instead pee’d nothing at all.

Jeremy and I got a wheelchair Uber back, and I was helped into bed by Danielle and Amber, my still dry catheter now connected to a 4 litre empty bag.

Again, I failed to fall asleep naturally ( legs too jerky ) so resorted to a sleeping pill once again.

At 10 am ( a good 10 hours later ) I was woken by Anna, my carer.  My confusion being still evident, I didn’t recognise her for a few seconds, as well as not knowing where I was. The 4 litre ( 10 pint ) bag was now full, most certainly implying that I was absolutely full to bursting with urine that wasn’t releasing. As a bladder can’t hold 10 pints of pee, what happens is that it backs up into the kidneys and makes you feel very ill.

Two hours of being washed and dressed followed, then a trip upstairs via the internal lift. I think I lasted for less than an hour before I was mumbling and falling asleep in my chair, so I was helped, half consciously, into bed, instantly going into a deep sleep for another  2 hours.

Personally, belonging to a branch of the medical profession, I’d say that my symptoms indicate the possible  onset of diabetes.

Pre injury, I was the last person in the world to expect diabetes, being extremely fit and active, carrying hardly any body fat and being very strict about what I ate and drank ( well, except for alcohol ) but now I’m subject to the very much greater risk – down to having a spinal cord injury, I am far less in control of minimising my chances of being diabetic.

I called 111 NHS  two hours ago, endeavouring to have a doctor visit ( well I am currently bed bound, and going in and out of thought clarity – I don’t even know if this post makes proper sense  –  to be fair ) but no medic has arrived or been in touch, yet.

My body is still pouring out urine – I’m up to a tally for the day of 7 litres ( 15 pints ) and that is definitely not normal. My mouth is as dry as a camel’s armpit, and my eyes keep closing.

Without sounding like a hypochondriac, I’m fairly certain that I have something else wrong with me now.

That would be par for the course, lets face it.

On a lighter note, I’m a member of the Tate Modern, so get in free with my membership. I think my ‘ carer ‘ would get in free too.

Any volunteers, please apply.

The consistently daft Turner prize entries are now on display, I think, as well as other stuff.

I reckon if I were to shit myself, and then fall asleep in the wheelchair, I could be mistaken for an exhibit, and possibly win?