When you’re on the loo and you find seaweed on your balls, you know you must have had a fun day, the day before.

This time last year ( on my birthday ) I was back in London, very much in intensive care still, not really fully aware of just how bad it all was, physically.

They were  still giving me hope that I may have control over my legs, or that it might return.

That wasn’t to be.

I spent this day with Dani and my daughters, and got so many cards it was crazy. It was all pretty overwhelming, in the nicest possible way.

Lots of lovely mums and dads from the kids’ school made a massive banner, and stood outside the hospital.

I only saw pictures of them holding the banner, but that was enough to make me feel very special.

At the time, I couldn’t really speak much, and only very quietly, as I still had the tracheotomy tube in my throat. Plus , champagne tasted like acid.

So God, it’s better now than then… Sure, I know that I probably won’t walk again, officially, now, but at least I’m up and about, can speak almost normally, and am steadily regaining fitness. My body is very much twisted by the assymetry of my injury, plus all the rods in my back, so it’s physically impossible to straighten up. As I’ve always been a bit obsessed by posture, that’s not great for me.

Today though, I’m with my adorable girls, and my little brother, Mandy, Ben and Neal, Debs, Emily, Miles, Karena, Gerry, Conor, Kate, Emily and Sarah…. So I’ll be ok!

Thanks to lots of people who have sent messages and cards too. 🙂

I’ll try to attach pics of some …

Well I never… My resting pulse rate has dropped to 47 per minute.

6 months ago it was about 70.

The hard work is paying off!

On another note, good luck to Voj on his wedding day today, marrying the lucky Chrysso…and equally to Adam.. In his role as best man!

Where do I start?

I know, car parking.

Disabled bays. F’ers who aren’t , parking in them. ‘Oh it was only for ten minutes/ my wife is disabled ( tho not actually with me etc etc’

At the station the other day… The guy parked in the only bay waved his Network Rail ID at me and says ‘ it’s ok, I work for the station ‘… What???   I parked alongside him so he couldn’t get out of his door.

‘ Wheelchair ‘ bays have that chequered yellow paint area to the side of the bay  TO PUT THE BLOODY WHEELCHAIR IN.  Not because the disabled are crap drivers who need more space to park. Or are really, really fat.

Unless you’re in a wheelchair, don’t park in them, ok!

Disabled toilets where the doors are on such high tension springs that I can’t pull them open… Because as I pull I roll closer to the door  stopping it opening.

Pedal bins in loos. Yes, PEDAL bins. What f’ing use is that to me, with paralysed legs that don’t move/ can’t move. I have to reach down and push the sodding pedal with my hand.

Disabled loos used as store rooms – chairs/ladders/ boxes/ the Hoover etc.  Theyre bigger so that a wheelchair can turn around in one   As soon as they’ve got other stuff in them…. You can’t turn around… To reach the pedal bin with your hand.

Accessible loos down a flight of stairs.. Yes, that daft. I asked and he said ‘ yes, no problem, we have one.. Just down those stairs…

Im not angry about these things, just a little bewildered.

A lot of these came via one man called Johnny Morris , a Cwmbran man who played with me for the United and later coached Cwmbran .Johnny was a good old second row, not the game’s greatest thinker but totally immersed in the game. During Cwmbran’s centenary season Johnny asked me if I would help him out at Cwmbran. The whole back division and half the forwards were ex Fairwater boys so I was delighted to get involved. This was the first time anyone had heard the”coat/jacket” used but he had others as well. At one coaching session he was trying to get a point over, getting frustrated he said ” boys, I’ve told you once twice before!” On another occasion whilst on the telephone he asked a player on the other end if he had a pen he could borrow to write something down. I think the most hilarious situation was before a game against Llandaff who had beaten Cwmbran earlier on in the season. He said to me “Bobby you talk about the tactics etc. and then I’ll do the motivation speech. ” After I’d finished he then proceeded to give the finest tirade of abuse re another side I have ever heard. He said ” they are a bunch of bullies, cowards, wankers,” on and on until the ref came in , it lasted a good 5 minutes, nothing but abuse. Then he finally said “just remember boys, they are exactly the same as you.” At that point I had to leave the dressing room I could no longer keep the smile off my face.
Love, Dad

I don’t think I dream an awful lot. When I do though, and I awake with a memory of one, I’ve not been in a wheelchair. At night, when I’m asleep, I get taken back, back to when things were better.

There seems to be so much in the media about paralysis and treatments and cures at the moment. It’s looking increasingly hopeful that a good therapy will come along  in my lifetime. Last night we watched Robocop Two… I certainly wasn’t expecting that to strike any type of cord with my situation.

Lo and behold … A cop gets blown up, severing his spinal cord, and more besides. He gets rebuilt, and dishes out justice left right and centre. The only bits of him that are human are his brain and lungs and one arm. That’s less than I’ve got functioning, and yet they do a pretty awesome job, there in the lab.

So… I’m gonna write in, to the LAPD, or whoever, and push for one of the next generation of Robocop conversion suits.

I hope they’re happy to overlook my ban for speeding in 2000, in their selection process…

Managed 38k yesterday – that’s the furthest I’ve arm biked so far.

My brilliant friend, Neal Watson, was with me all the way, stopping traffic at roundabouts and telling me to slow down at all the right places.

38km isn’t very far, I know.. Took about an hour and a half, so a bit pedestrian but it’s not too bad.

To be honest, I’m tired of pain. I’ve had enough this last year for a lifetime.

My shoulder is sore,  a large weeping patch of rawness.

I learnt in France a few years ago, after a nasty cycle crash, that raw skin wounds are best cleaned then coated in Vaseline. No dressings, no plaster, no horrible bloody bandages that have to be peeled off repeatedly..  Just Vaseline   – the wound heals, it all stays moist, and no cracking , oozing scab. Remember where you heard it first.

🙂

I’ve for some reason been thinking about the daft expressions that Welsh people use.  

Stuff like:

Whose coat is that jacket?

Whose horse is that donkey ?

See those two houses up there on the hill? Mine’s the one in the middle.

My favourite ( and perhaps now the most pertinent ) is..

It’s better than waking up dead….

🙂

The awesome Terry is doing the ultimate challenge in aid of his old cycling buddy ( that’ll be me )  This is his link.

Fittingly, it’s the Welsh Ironman, and one of the toughest on the circuit. Not very flat, Wales, see… Even the sea is on a slope…

Thank you Ice T.

https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/terryrodham1