Thanks to Niki, Kev, Marta, John and Cressida, for yesterday.

I saw my counsellor today.

When I wheeled in, I noticed a box of tissues on the side table. I asked if they were for the clients to dry their eyes.

She looked at me and nodded slowly

By the end of the 50 minutes,  and for the first time, I was  using one of those same tissues.

I have to fill in the same questionnaire every week, and essentially it’s to find out how suicidal you are ( without actually saying it ).

I can’t ever remember how I scored myself the last time, but today I did know that my responses weren’t exactly positive.

After reading the form, Charlotte  said that she would have to  phone my GP straight away to alert her of my ‘at risk’ status.

My doctor called my mobile shortly after.

Things really aren’t too rosy.

I thought I’d record how a typical ( if I can use that word now ) 24 hours might pan out for me, and I’ll use the last 24, now that the 24 is up.

So last night  3 people came to our flat for dinner ( Mark P plus the 2 very lovely Doctors, Mike and Steve, that I met in Louisville, USA, now firm friends )

For a few hours, I was able to enjoy the social interaction, the clever company, the good conversation ( and maybe 2 glasses of wine )

At about 10.15 the spasms started, my legs jerking, my abdominal area sort of vibrating.

It makes concentrating on anything else quite difficult, to be honest.

I had to excuse myself prematurely, to go to the bathroom, whereupon I guessed that perhaps the  spasms were indicative of a need to ‘sit on the loo’.  I can’t actually feel the normal sensation of a ‘ need to go ‘ so have had to develop a 6th sense almost ( which is sometimes right, sometimes wrong, and sometimes too late )

There I stayed until maybe 12.15 am, long after Dani had said goodnight and gone to her room.

From loo seat, to wheelchair, to ‘shower seat’, shower, drying of some parts, back to wheelchair, further drying of other parts, the swallowing of so many pills from so many bottles,  to transfer from wheelchair to bed.

Sleep?  No.

Spasms restart shortly after, continuing for as long as I remember, my eventually falling asleep stopping that particular torture, but waking at 2.30 and 6.30am to have to catheterise, my spasms being so violent that I wake.

I don’t go back to sleep after that, and get dressed on the bed ( how else can I do it ) having put some clothes on the side that Dani used to sleep, before I transferred in.

I have my usual spartan breakfast, and get some help into my car, and drive to work ( a little zombie like ).

I park up and then talk on the phone to the lawyer that I’ve had to engage to negotiate me through the legal processes that are happening at work, which lasts for 90 minutes. All the way through the complex conversation, my legs and pelvis jerk violently in my car seat, but I force myself to still concentrate and speak coherently.

I phone someone at work, who comes out to help me from my car, and wheel in to the practice. There I sit in with my lovely student, helping her  in the course of her patient list, and giving both her and her patients the ‘benefit’ of my many years of experience, which is certainly of assistance to them all, at least giving me a sense of worth.  My spasms don’t stop until about 4 pm, but the distraction of work and company reduces how much they upset me.

I leave by 5pm and drive on the M25 and M4 with the Rush Hour traffic, to my home, and get help from my car an hour later.

The plan is to go the 200 metres or so to the launch night of a local catering business at 7.30pm, where I would brave a full room of people having fun, upright.

By 6.15 my spasms have started again, and I contemplate a social event where I’m the only one sat down, and definitely the only one sat down and uncontrollably shaking from the chest, down.

I decide reluctantly that I shouldn’t go, that no one will really understand why I might appear and come across as distracted at a launch party that, after all, I have willingly gone to. I mean, who goes to a party when they’re feeling like crap, unless they’re maybe obliged to go to a work event, or family occasion?

Dani  seems very happy to go, without me,  and I am left alone with my thoughts ( and my tremors )

I have to catheterise more often than usual, when  I’m spasming, as wetting myself occurs more frequently , but tonight they are proving difficult to insert. There’s no pain, as I can’t feel anything, but  any man can sympathise with a reluctance to jam something hard into his penis, so I try not to, and it takes for ever.

I feel so down, it’s awful, and the tears roll down my face yet again, a mixture of despair and frustration.

I decide to have some alcohol to perhaps mute my senses a bit, and it has soon become a full bottle of ( fairly decent ) wine.

After an hour or so, I get a message from someone offering to come over and give me a hand to the party, but that person never comes, I think having misunderstood my response. I really don’t want to go the, albeit short,  distance in the dark and arrive alone to a crowded room, so I spend the evening alone after all .

Actually  the alcohol seems to help, and I feel less sad after a while . I text Pia, and she lifts me a little, and distract myself with emails.

Dani gets back at about 11pm, and says it’s a fun night.   There were lots of people there that I knew, she said, but that everyone was standing up and it would have been hard for me to  interact properly.  As it wasn’t forthcoming, I questioned  whether anyone had asked after me and wondered why I wasn’t there,  and she said  that lots had, and a few had said that they knew I’d been having a rough time recently. That prompted me to ask whether any read my blog, as far as she knew.  Dani then proffered that some people ‘were quite principled ‘ about that, and said that ‘they didn’t, preferring to talk to me face to face ‘

I get that response quite often ( where a person might ask me how I am when they bump into me ) What am I supposed to say? That I’m great, never better? So I try to suss out the situation, and ask if they know I have a blog, as my ‘story’ is a bit complex . Usually the person will say that while they know I write a diary, they would far rather they talk to me to personally.

So then I ask when was the last time they did that ?

Which usually leads to an awkward silence.

Which I don’t think is a situation of my own making, just how it is.

A big G’day to Chris Juster’s mum.

It would seem I have a blog reader in Australia!

xx

( actually, including Sandy K, and Jayney C, I have 3…)

My spasms are continuous, non bloody stop.

It’s 2.50 am and it’s impossible to sleep.

I don’t have a UTI, I’ve exercised and I’ve ‘stood’ in my standing chair a lot.

This isn’t supposed to be happening.

It’s difficult to feel cheerful!

A man came up to me last night, whilst I was out.

I didn’t recognise him, but he evidently did me.

He said that I used to canoe on the same stretch of river that he rowed on ( note that canoeing is not the same sport as rowing – one boat goes forward, the other backward…).

He was incredibly complimentary about me. Fair play, he had had a few beers, that was apparent.

I apologised for not recognising him, but he explained that we’d never met.  He went on to say that when he realised that he’d not seen me on the water for a while, he’d asked someone if they knew where I was, and that person told him about my accident.

He said how upset he’d been to hear of my calamity, and how good it was to see me alive ( if not totally well ). He asked if it was ok if he gave me a massive hug, and I said that it was very much ok.  My friend ( Pia )  who was with me almost burst into tears at that point.

He said that he needed me to get back on the Tideway ( that’s the part of the Thames that’s tidal, and definitely isn’t the easiest stretch of water ) and that he’d do anything and everything he could to help make it happen.

We realised that we had friends in common, and he said that he’d make it happen.

We exchanged numbers, and details.

I don’t know if anything will come of this, and if it doesn’t then it doesn’t, but I thought it was worth  writing about.

He was called Matt, is straight, and single. He’d make some girl a lovely boyfriend. Any hot ladies out there that read this, please feel free to pass their details to me, and I’ll pass them on..,

I don’t have a key to the building I live in.

A lady just walked past me and opened the door 20 feet from where i sit , in my chair at 2 am, letting herself in.

She could have asked me if I needed access. I’m sure she wondered why a guy in a wheelchair was  outside the door to the building, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to say something to me.

It does nothing for my faith in humanity.

Having said that, when I wheeled into the traffic on the main road outside, it all stopped. There was silence, no horns, no shouts, no attempts to drive around me, no one got out of their cars, everyone just stopped.

Idea for traffic calming measure – Transport for London ( TfL ) just need to employ a whole bunch of depressed spinally cord injured people in wheelchairs.

I I have quite a few regrets, but none that I can change.

I met this lovely guy maybe 5 years ago where we skied together in France for a few days.

Over the years I’ve met a lot of people who for some reason want to keep in touch for years after.

Maybe knowing at least one Welsh person is fashionable?

Anyway, Joost emailed me today, as he has so often over these last 2 years ( I’ve no idea how he found out about my accident )

Hi Russ,

A fast hello from Belgium to let you know that i try to follow your blog from time to time.

I read that you have up and down moments. We only skied together a coupple off days but i enjoyed them very much. i’m sure that you still bring joy to a lot off people!

Whenever you have to be in Belgium or around Brussels let me know so you pass at my place.

Do you have plans for skiing this winter ?

Im triing to brake the Belgian record speedskiing.

Hope to see you on some slope

I send you lots off positive energy!!

Joost
 

I suppose what im saying is that the world is full of good people .

And that I’ve met my fair share of them.

Hey Russ,

Just did a catch up on your blog..

Dont really know what to say mate, although I am glad you managed to escape Portugal and the A&E Unit,

I have to agree with your counselor and your friend Lisa – You are going to have to realise your value one day – what you bring to this world and the people around you, its huge.
Listen, we never spent a whole bunch of time together before your accident but at fellow athletes and sportsmen we have a kind of mutual respect – you inspire me Russ – as you do to so many others around you, you need to know this,

Lisa talks about the awareness that you have highlighted for a whole number of things – this makes a difference in other people lives, it really does. You are doing this.

Anyway, I am not trying to change your feelings or your thoughts or the internal war that rages on inside you, you need to win that one yourself, inside your own mind, but all I can say is that you have a wife and daughters who should be the one thing that drives you to keep fighting, they need you more than you know..

You have so much to offer this world and the people around you, I am not in your situation so cannot offer any words of wisdom or advice, this is your battle mate, you have to win it yourself,

Just keep fighting Russ, keep fighting – dont give up, you are stronger than that.

Hello flower!
Been reading the blog, as you know (thanks for quoting me!). Bummed that you’re still deep in the throes of depression. Very glad though that you’re still alive and very literally soldiering on, as it’s evident that this is as arduous as a yomp across South Georgia with a full pack. Please keep seeing the counsellor. And be aware that you’re grieving; these things don’t just suddenly switch over into bright and shiny acceptance of your new situation. Frankly, I’d still give a fucking kidney to have my Dad back for a day, and that’s almost 15 years ago.

I saw these cards and thought of you when I saw the final one. You’re not a burden, you’re a human.

http://www.upworthy.com/7-new-nontraditional-empathy-cards-that-say-what-other-cards-can-get-totally-wrong?c=ufb1

Love  the link to the things that SHOULD be written in cards… 🙂