This morning, after not much sleep again – tried to stay awake for the American Presidential debate , and sort of failed to – I messaged maybe 20 people that I haven’t seen for a long time, a few since before my injury.

I was surprised by the responses I got.

It struck me very much that a lot of people are unhappy. Unhappy with their lives, the’ stress’ of having a normal life.

I got more than one ‘ it’s alright for you lying in bed in a nice hospital all day ‘ … as in ‘ the real world is far harder ‘.

Pre injury I filled my every day with things to do ( ‘ commitments ‘ ) that made me always be ‘ rushing ‘ to my next ‘ commitment ‘

I don’t recall being unhappy though, my ‘ pressured lifestyle ‘ being my own fault.

I sacrificed watching TV and sleeping properly to fit all my  ‘ commitments’ in.

Funny isn’t it then that despite being here in hospital in a bed and with a large TV, the things that I do least are watch TV and sleep.

And I’m happy once more!

Thats obviously a winning formula for Russ Dawkins – the one that’s Back on Track.

Pretty cool, I’d say.

How’s Friday for a stop by? Will text beforehand.

You continue to amaze, dumbfound and genuinely and deeply thrill and amaze me with your superhuman resilience and this new /old Russ, with the happy vibes and positive mind frame.

A Welsh wonder. Good to have you back. Let me know if u need anything.

And it’s 5.30am and I’m wide awake!

How does that happen?

I think I need sleeping tablets?

Cherie embraced the haircut challenge very bravely, and pushed for about a mile, to find that Google Maps hadn’t been updated by the salon, and it was no longer there, just a derelict shop front, all boarded up

We went for a Costa coffee instead.

Then decided to have another go, but were foiled by the 10 inch step at the entrance.

They said they had no ramp – that all their chair clients  got out and walked up the step, then got back into the chair? I think that’s illegal, but saved that one for another day

Not put off, Cherie tipped me back, gave me a wheelie, and got me up the cliff.

They told me at the salon that the haircut took 10 years off me, but declined to say how old I now look, so interpret that as you will.

I once again have a short back and sides, my normal look for 28 years since the Mullet, and charged me 3 and a half times what I pay the Turkish cut throat razor guy down the road in EGHAM, or in Chiswick.

My eyebrow trim wasn’t any extra, but has been necessary since I was about 19.

If I didn’t get that done regularly ( normally badly by myself in the mirror ) I’d soon not be able to see at all,  through the hanging gardens effect.

Since my hospital stay started, my hair seems to have got thicker and darker – is that all the drugs, or deprivation of UV light, I don’t know.

I find my ‘ new self / old self  new self ‘ to be far more engaging to the world around me.  Now no longer being ashamed of the wheelchair, I must be projecting a different  persona, and people seem to want to talk to me.

How odd am I finding that?!

I certainly can’t move very much at all, but my voice is louder again, and confidence has appeared.  I don’t recognise myself, but am assured that this is how I used to be.

Likewise I now strike myself as quite clever, but I can’t remember if i was before my injury, so that’s a bit confusing.

I seem to suddenly know all this stuff, which obviously  I must have known before and just remembered, or else how would I know it?

Aliens may have taken over my mind, of course, but I don’t think so.  I find myself doing all sorts of things in a logical sequence, and also realise that I could possibly make a far greater contribution to society than I have been doing these last 3 years.

Look out World ?

Russ

PS  Once more  crapped myself badly, whilst out, but it seemed to be contained by tight cargo type shorts.  Not sure if the shorts are that salvageable ,  and I wouldn’t want to put anything else in the washing machine for a while either.

Its 3 am and I’m wide awake now. Knowing that my doctor will burst in in 3 hours time doesn’t bother me. I don’t have much on tomorrow, I’m sure.

Apologies to Rich K, who visited at 10.30 am, but got me practically asleep for an hour, whilst he did his best to keep me awake, with  his tales of I can’t remember at all, as I was like a Zombie.

Yes, I know my sleep pattern is all at sea, but maybe that’s something to do with my psychological rebirth as well?

Now I suddenly and finally feel tired.

From one extreme to the other – locked in this room for weeks, and with a fixed view from a window, to being, within 15 minutes, 1000 feet up in the sky, in the highest building in Britain.

The top floor of The Shard means taking 3 very fast lifts, and is absolutely worth visiting.
Bloody hell its s long way up.

Good of Marky P to push me up there.
Getting into the chair is very difficult now, but worth it.
Not thanks for not telling me that my hair looks like that crazy scientist from Back to the Future.
I don’t really have a mirror to look in, so it wasn’t til I saw myself in the elevator mirror – where I had to use lots of spit to pat it down.
The last person to do that to me with my Nana Tess, when I was about 9, and it made me think about her, between the laughs.
Mind you, she always did make me laugh, right up to the day she died.

Thanks to Toby and Rob C for coming today. I was so bloody sleepy – sorry guys.

I expect to leave here soon, maybe this week, for my next phase, in The Wellington Hospital, in St John’s Wood, North London.
I’ll be there for at last a month, and do expect to progress in various ways – that being the whole point of going there..

I don’t know who is more upset to be in this situation – him or me?

The bloody ripple effect of this injury… very sad.

Chefs ?

After a few hours sleep, then relentless spasms that kept me from proper sleep, I realised why.
My bowels had continued to do their thing, which is good, and my stomach is flatter than it was last night, but the nurses had a major clean up operation to perform..!

Nurses and shit have a very cool relationship – it doesn’t seem to phase them at all, and they are very keen to emphasise that I shouldn’t be embarrassed by what they have to do for me.
Nonetheless of course I am, to a degree, and say sorry, and thank you, a lot.

My surgeon just bounced in, and I asked him straight about a revision to my metalwork, to allow me some movement and future independence.
He dashed my hopes by explaining that the base of my spine had deteriorated to such a degree that I could not expect have the structural metalwork removed – that if they did, it would just all collapse.

That leaves me facing a life dependent on carers – at the moment a single life too.
But I know that that could change, and someone out there will accept my compromised self.

It was lovely to speak to my daughters for ages, on FaceTime yesterday, from their holiday in Portugal.
I do love them very much, and hope to always be a part of their lives.

Overall therefore, I continue to be very much undented.

Again, never underestimate the Welsh..

Ten hours sleep, though two hours awake from 5-7 am.
Must be the coconut cream that my skin seems to have soaked up gallons of, yet is still dry, though less so.

There’s a nice job for any visitors??

Comments seem to have dried up though?

I know people have had trouble ‘ dealing with ‘ my positive approach – on the basis that ‘ surely you can’t be happy, after all you’ve been through/ are going through ?’

Never underestimate the Welsh ?