Not a hangover after all, just the start of a chest infection.
Spent last night sounding like a had a baby’s rattle in my chest.
I truly hate this new sickly existance.
To go from never being ill to being in a wheelchair and pathetically vulnerable to every ailment is not the path I’d imagined.
Negative thoughts are now filling my head once more.
I see the limits of my potential progress starkly in front of me, always needing help to do most things.
I don’t want to be like this.
I don’t want Dani to have to live her life in a modified way for my sake.
I fear not seeing my children enough, limited by what I’m able to do with them.
My head’s in turmoil again.
My life, 7 months ago so incredible, has ended, replaced with a half life of frustration, condemned to being an observer of the world around me.
I do really hope you all realise how amazing ‘ normal ‘ life is.
10 am. As I lie here I’m now shaking violently with a nebuliser on my face. .
Death on that road above Toulon would have saved an awful lot of trouble.
Selfish perhaps, but you try this life.
1 pm. Slept. Hot now not cold.
May be moved ‘upstairs ‘ – intensive care.
Think I’m def on the mend tho.
It’s up to the doctors, not me.
I feel bad for saying I’d rather have given up than fought on.
All the people out there that are helping me haven’t given up on me.
I apologise to all of them.
It’s so hard to see a positive whilst you’re trembling violently ( but only from the waist up ) alone in a hospital bed.
The little room TV is on, full of beautiful people doing stuff involving legs.
I know everyone that reads this does think of my situation and feels very sorry for me.
Before this, I of course have had friends and family that have found themselves in very unfortunate situations. I’ve tried to recall how much actual time I spent thinking about them daily – a few minutes maybe? The rest of the time I’d be getting on with my busy life .
It’s what you do, right.
And rightly so.
When you are the person in the situation of course you can’t just step out of it, and get on with the other stuff.
Or can you?
I guess that’s the secret to getting on with life.
As I may be put into a more ‘intensive care’ ward later I cannot go to Acton to watch and meet the boxers who are fighting do my charity , as planned later tonight.
Sorry all, for not coming.
Instead I’m here on bed fester for another day.
It would seem that when they confine you here, that’s it.
Ticket sales are going well, but quite a few still available.
It’ll be a hell of a night, so don’t miss out.
For tickets call the Park Club on 02087434321