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As people seem to regularly ask me ( if they know at all ) why I’m going to America, I thought I’d try to clarify.

What I’m definitely NOT going for is a cure ( as there isn’t one, not currently anyway ).

I’ve enrolled on a clinical trial, which investigates the effect of electrical current stimulation on paralysed parts of the body.
It won’t restore the ability to have ANY sensation or control of anything below the break in my spine.
So.. No feeling from tummy button down, no control of ANYTHING below tummy button at the front, or behind either ( my injury is worse to my back, having no feeling at all in large areas of my back, and little function at all on the right side of my mid and lower back – which means I couldn’t say sit on a stool without immediately toppling off )
There will almost certainly be little improvement in any of the above, definitely no regain of sensation, but possibly some gain in function/ strength of the paralysed muscle above and close to the broken spinal area.

I could possibly come back in 5 months time with a bit more stability than I currently have and perhaps a little more muscle symmetry between right side and left, but there are no promises.

So why am I going?
Ok, the scientists in Louisville have had some breakthroughs and successes with electrical implants inside the bodies of injured people, whereby those patients have regained some sensation and use of paralysed areas.

The reason I am going is that I want to be selected for an implant, if I am deemed suitable. They have not promised that I will be, or even suggested that at all, but by putting myself in the arena, it has to increase my chances, and certainly compared to staying at home and doing nothing.

It will be a real test to go to a foreign country, as a paralysed person with only the use of half my body ( ‘really, I thought you just couldn’t move your legs’ as one of my staff said yesterday ) but going I am nonetheless. I’m doing my bit for spinal break research, and volunteering my broken body to science.
They have my permission to do to it what they will.

At least I’ll be useful for something then…

But God, I’m going to miss home, my wife, my daughters, and my lovely and loving friends.
It’s being in regular contact with all of the above that will keep me from sinking back into the pit that I spent many months in, not so long ago.

So… All visits/ letters/ texts/ emails/ FaceTime calls welcome.

Thanks in advance.

Russ

As if things weren’t bad enough already, this week my business partner, Selcuk Arslan, has been diagnosed as having a brain tumour.
There is no forecast as yet as to his prognosis, but his seizures are getting worse.
My head is full of this latest injustice.

What, for fuck’s sake, were the chances of a double tragedy, like this, occurring?

Sit-Skiing Chamonix Jan 2015

I thought I would add my thoughts on our four days in Chamonix accompanying Russell on his latest sit-ski adventure, and in the relaxed company of his extended family of friends, Dan, Larry, Neal, Kevin and Jean-Jacques (+ his Fanny) the ever reliable but hard task-master instructor.

The last time I was on holiday with Russ was skiing in Champoluc in 2013, two months before his accident. As such I believe I was the last person to ski with him. For those that have skied with Russell, you will know what an exceptional skier he was. For those that never got a chance to ski with him you have missed out on a real treat. He’s also well known for his impulsive pranks, so my wife was a little anxious during that holiday when I disappeared off-piste with Russell in some of the best powder ski conditions I have known. She should not have worried. Russ was the epitome of safety, guiding me round areas of the mountain that I had never seen in 4 previous visits to the resort, navigating dangers with the utmost care, and giving me hints and tips on powder skiing which have made me a much better skier.

I’m sharing this previous experience because it underlines how important being a competent sit-skier is to Russ. Russ was a great skier standing up and now wants to be a great skier sitting down. I have seen previous video footage of Russ sit-skiing in the US, and last year in France, and had anticipated, like he had, that the third time out would be the proverbial ‘like riding a bike’. It wasn’t. It seems sit-skiing requires two steps forward and one step back (and sometimes three steps back). Its certainly doesn’t help when each holiday is separated by many months.

After a tentative start on day 1, it went rapidly downhill on day 2. Each turn was invariably accompanied by a fall, and often not just a gentle slide onto his side, but a full-force flip and thump. It was like watching a boxer hit the canvass over and over again, and still get up to take more punishment. I’m not a sit-skier and hope never to be in that situation, but not for the first time I have tried to imagine what life must be like for Russ. Falling off a moving dinning room chair with only my shoulder or head to take the impact seems to come close. Long before the last run I was wincing at the impact that Russ was taking, and just hoped, liked the beaten boxer, he would stay down and call it quits for the day. But that is not Russ. ‘Defeatist’ is not part of his vocabulary, which is why he skied until it was time to head back. I’m sure in years to come when Russ is dancing down powder runs on his sit ski, he will remember Chamonix 2015 Day 2 (Kevin has already promised to put together an edited film of the all falls so the memory will live long!) as just a minor speed-bump on the road to sit-skiing greatness, but for that day it was most definitely a horribly painful experience.

One of the thing’s that impresses me most with Russ is his positive nature. If that experience had happened to me I would have been a miserable bastard that evening. By contrast Russ was his usual great company, upbeat and humorous, apparently parking the misery of the day to a ‘one step’ back. That said he was honest enough when we got back to say how sore he was, and willing accepted some Ibruprofen!

Day 3 proved to be somewhat more positive, although typical of the weeks sit-skiing experience, good was followed by bad. The morning started out with some better turns and stability, but the afternoon seem to be Day 2 revisited. So much so that Russ even considered, depending on the snow conditions over-night, giving it a rest on the final day. I blame the glass of wine at lunch. Fortunately a combination of some new snow and an enthusiastic and determined support crew led by JJ’s insistence that the fluent skiing would come, we headed back out to Les Contamines, scene of Day 2’s misadventure.

From the start of Day 4 Russ was style and grace personified. 3 or 4 slips during the whole day but in the main great control. The best bit was catching Russ’ huge smile as he glided down the slope, and then getting to the end of the run to hear the relief and joy in his voice. Typical of his humour and competitive spirit, he claimed that he was now faster than Dani! I videoed two of the long runs which Russ will find a way to post on You-tube.

As a side note to a great 4 days, I just wanted to congratulate the crew of Dan (our generous host), Larry and Neal for the efficient nature of the well-oiled machine that managed to get Russ in and out of the chalet; up and down and stairs; in and out of cars; in and out of gondolas; in and out of restaurants. A classy bunch of mates who know how to eat and drink well, and now have a shared passion for the Lingerie Football League.

It’s not the same, and there are probably more lows than highs, but the lows pass quickly when I’m in the company of Dan, Larry,Kevin, Neal and Chris, five brilliant lads who can’t do enough to make my struggles less.

Skiing was a big part of my life before and I’d not be happy unless I’d performed at my best, every day.
Now I am forced to settle for much less, the frustration of continually falling, not being able to get back up without help, being pushed and carried what seems like everywhere.
Independence is impossible, and I’ve no choice but to accept that.

But hey, at least I’m here.

Yesterday I fell off a chairlift, dropping maybe 6 feet. I couldn’t feel the impact on my legs, but it wasn’t much fun, lying there under the lift, people looking and being held up, as they had to stop the lift for 5 minutes.
It wasn’t my fault, but it wouldn’t have happened had I not been there.
I’m not injured as far as I know, but certainly could have been.

Last day today.
I wonder what I’ll get? It’s been so variable so far, depending on the snow, the sit ski set up, the angle of the poles, with mini skis on the ends that I hold to steer and stay upright.
To me, I’m falling all the time, yet when I’ve watched video that Kevin took, it doesn’t seem that way. Before, I could go days without a tumble, despite skiing in extreme conditions, so I guess I’m still measuring myself against the old me.

PM
OK, so now I’ve skied for 4 solid hours.
Maybe 3 or 4 slips, but definitely not any proper crashes.
Good snow and a change to the angle of my ski poles. Christ what a difference.

It does beg the question as to why my poles weren’t adjusted earlier, but c’est la vie ( as they say here ..)

So now skiing is once again good, whereas yesterday I contemplated never doing it again.

Objective No 1 possibly achieved – being faster than my wife
No 2 is faster than my daughters.
3 faster than my mates, again.

But give me a couple of seasons.

Everything that I can feel is in pain.

I’ve worked out why I’ve gone from good last year to crap now.
It’s the position I’m in in the ski.

Unless he has changed the device to fit me, I can’t do it today, the injury chance is too high.

To experience absolute and abject failure attempting something sporting, isn’t / wasn’t something that I’m familiar with.
Today’s 2nd day of four in Chamonix, between 9 and 3 o’clock, I had one of the worst days of my life.
I must have hit the deck 50 times, each one a real bang. If I hadn’t had a helmet, I’d have been knocked out a dozen times for sure.

I don’t know what was different about the sit ski set up today, compared to yesterday, but it was worse than awful.
I was honestly close to tears by the end, out of sheer frustration and disappointment, not to mention the real pummelling I’d taken.

Now my head, neck, arms, hands, ribs and shoulders all hurt quite a lot ( so that’s all the parts I can feel ) and I feel light headed.

Drinking to forget tonight is my tactic of choice.

How I ended up.

3 blokes and a rope, and half an hour later I’m back on the slopes….

Thanks to Kevin Young, JJ, and a passing stranger!

Today I’m at the funeral, of Pete Juster, a lovely man, not a close friend, but a close friend of close friends.

It’s the first time I’ve worn a tie since my injury. Sat down and hunched as I am in my chair, it’s amazing how little tie I need in the front, compared to before, stood up and ‘elongated’.

There are lots of people here in the church that I know, saying their goodbyes to Pete.

I can’t help but think that I very very nearly attended my last funeral only 18 months ago, and wonder how it would have gone?

Pete fought cancer bravely for nearly 5 years, and had his time to prepare and say goodbye, even complete his bucket list..
I didn’t have a bucket list, having already filled my bucket several times over, but to die suddenly, prematurely and unexpectedly perhaps creates more grief.

Sat here ( what else ) I feel very sad and emotional, for Pete, his family and friends, and for how close I came to filling a church myself, not so long ago.