I’ve copied a conversation I had yesterday with a close friend:

Him:

Very sad to read your latest post. Don’t know how you are dealing with all this, seriously.
As for the idiot asking how you are, can’t imagine a more stupid question!

Me:

I get those kinds of daft questions all the time, normally followed up with the details of the awful day they’ve had ( weather / traffic jam / painful little finger / hangover/ school run )

It’s what people do, and the more they’ve got, the more they complain about.
When someone comes back from a dream holiday, the first thing they mention is the half hour that the flight was delayed on the way back.

I’ve had a good day if I don’t shit myself…in public, and people actually acknowledge me instead of the person that is giving me a push.

We have Amber’s class parents party here tomorrow- I’ll send you the email that I sent to all the parents – I’ve not met any of them.

Dear all,

Amber’s Dad, Russ here, joint host with Danielle on Thursday night, at the class party.

I don’t think that I’ve met many of you, due to my imposed lack of mobility, but I think I’ve met a few of your daughters ( at my flat )

Thursday should be a good night, and please don’t dress up to come ( unless you really want to, that is ! )

Most of you probably don’t know that I had a terrible accident 3 years ago that changed me from ‘super athletic type’ to ‘paralysed from the chest down type’.
I have a completely severed spinal cord that means I have zero feeling or control below my chest.
As I really wasn’t expected to even live, I suppose that makes me lucky?

I often find that people don’t really know what to say when they see the wheelchair, so I thought I’d bring up the topic first.
It’s not a topic that you ‘ have to avoid ‘ or pretend that you haven’t noticed. It’s not awkward for me to talk about, it’s just how it now is, for me.
In fact, its actually more awkward if people don’t mention it…. after all, if I had my arm in a sling, or a bandage around my head, I think everyone would enquire as to why?

Another thing that can happen is that I’m not acknowledged, as if invisible, so please don’t do that either. I’m actually very engaging, if you talk to me.

I’m not mobile enough to serve drinks, or pass round the canapés, so please forgive me in advance, and help yourselves to drinks all night long.

I do have a blog, started shortly after my crash, by my sister in law. I was in a deep coma at the time, but have since August 2013, written it all by myself.
Please feel very welcome to read it, if you’re stuck for something more fun to do, obviously.

Here’s a link to it : https://www.russelldawkinsbackontrack.co.uk/blog/

I look forward to seeing you all on Thursday!

Love,

Russ.
Sent from my iPhone

I’ve had so, so many lovely and sensitive replies ( obviously many more from the ladies than the guys )

I wasn’t at all sure whether to send that email, and was prepared to get no replies at all, and half expected none of the parents to turn up on Thursday ( tomorrow night ) having scared them all off….. with my ‘ direct approach ‘.

Thankfully, my intent to break the ice has seemed to work, and I’ll not spend the evening feeling like a misfit/ twat  in my own home.

I lie here alone in this room, in solitary again, as I’ve been since August 22nd, feeling devoid of so much of me, so much bloody worse off than I was 10 weeks ago, thinking dark thoughts continually again, my ‘ personal life ‘ in a complete mess, my legs spasming and hitting against the wooden end of the bed, unable to move anything but my head and arms, unable to change position in the bed, I think back to a few hours ago in the school hall where someone I vaguely knew came up and said ‘ how are you?’

I said,  from my large, ungainly wheelchair, stuck in one position, feeling very self conscious at the front of the hall ‘ I’m fine, thank you,  and you ?’

She, stood beside me, glass of wine in hand, said ‘ I’m ok, but a bit down because of the weather today – these grey skies do make me grumpy, do you find that?’

Jesus, sometimes I’m so lost for words that I just have to look away.

I wonder how she’d deal with my situation?

Not very well, I imagine…. which is how I am just now, feeling wide awake at 2 am, without a positive thought in my head, and tired of the conflicts that are consuming my thoughts –  conflicts that are so much harder to deal with because I’m paralysed than they would be if I were not.

I don’t know how I’ll feel in the morning, but at the current time I really don’t want to wake up ever again.

This is from my blog on Sept 8th 2014.

I was thinking about this earlier on, after today not being a very good day. This was a day when it could have come to a very sudden end, and saved me a fair bit of trouble!

Sept 8th 2014

‘Para rowing.. a day out with Pia ( watching from the dockside )

So, into a boat – a single. It was shown and explained to me that it was impossible that this boat could tip over. It had outriggers sticking out 60 cm either side with very bouyant floats on the water attached. No one had ever gone over in one of these boats.Not once, not ever.

They were used all over the country, and in races the world over.There was a safety boat in the vicinity just in case.

I was totally safe. Which was good, given that I was very firmly strapped to the seat and the back rest, potentially making releasing myself under water a little tricky.

I rowed along for 15 mins or so, taking directions from my lady coach on the bank. It was going ok, not easy without the ability to sit myself up straight as I tended to fall to one side and forward.

I did several turns, my experience as a canoeist helping me with oar logic.

All of a sudden I started to tip.To my dodgy left side.

The outrigger just kept going down.

I was under the water, vertically pointing down, in the murky water of the dock, strapped firmly to a seat with lap and chest straps without the capacity to wriggle free, in a boat that upside down, with outriggers and a 6 foot man strapped to the seat, 50 metres from the shore, in deep water, was going to be virtually impossible to right.

I clawed at the straps for about 10 seconds, to no avail. At that point I realised that I was in all likelihood going to die.

Its amazing how much you think in about 20 seconds, when you’re faced with your last 20 seconds. I reasoned that as I’d wanted a way out/ wished myself dead so very many times over this last year, but not been able to commit the act myself, then this was the perfect way to go. It wasn’t suicide, it was an accident. It was the perfect solution.

I thought it would appear pretty awful to my friends, that ‘having achieved so much’ I end up drowning at a rowing camp.

Then I thought of my daughters, of Lily and Amber, and the sadness that id not been able to say goodbye properly.

I then heard muffled sounds, and felt hands on my shoulder straps, straining to pull me up. The panic in the hands was evident to me. It wasn’t working, the very outriggers that were supposed to keep me upright were preventing my being rescued After maybe 15 seconds, as I was just about to take that lungful of water, my face felt air and I had one little breath before going under again.

I was pulled up again, and I could hear panicked voices. More half breaths.

Then my boat was being righted and I could see the safety boat and the docklands.

I was released and dragged into the safety boat. The two guys were ashen pale. I imagine my face didn’t look too good either. My shirt was all torn from the effort.

Sheer desperation had given these guys the strength to get me out.

I’m not sure what I felt ‘

Despite my renewed optimism there are inevitably moments when I wonder why I’m here, indeed how the hell I still am. Life continues to throw rocks at me ; I don’t write about everything in this diary, far from it.

I think if I did you’d wonder why I ever want to wake up in the mornings.

That day the boat turned over, I should have died, for the second time in 14 months. Had I that day,  I’d be blissfully asleep now. My  friend Pia, however,  would have had nightmares ever since, so for her sake I’m glad it didn’t end that way, that day.

Had I been there by myself though…. well it would have been just fine with me.

I do wonder why I’m upbeat?

Perhaps I really actually died 3 years ago and this is Hell?

( The social media speech was not a shock to me at all, but probably was to a lot of the assembled parents. The internet and technology revolution has not made the world into a better place, despite all the wonderful things that it has placed at our fingertips.

Our poor kids bear the brunt of the crap that the grown ups created, as usual )

The district nurses and private carer combination is working well.

It does make it pretty impossible to see the light of day before midday, but I do have time on my hands.. let’s face it. The days of jam packing every 24 hours with stuff are truly over and out.

The two ladies that share my mornings with me having a ‘complete access all areas’ are two very different but equally kind people – I don’t think that just anyone could be a Carer … it does require a certain amount of essential compassion, something that I’ve learnt not everyone has. I sincerely thank both Anna and Marie ( even though I pay them for what they do for me )

Giving is most definitely more satisfying than receiving, ultimately, though only those with least have their hands forced in  one direction only.

Neither of my carers is materially well off, but both are very happy with the balance of their lives, that much is quite striking.

It seems to me, increasingly, that often those that have materially the most, are the most dissatisfied with their lot – having lost sight of the more simple pleasures in the rush to ‘exotify ‘ their lives. The more people have, the less they tend to give. You’ve got to admire Bill Gates for what he’s doing with his cash, but he’s not applauded anywhere near enough.

It should be made legal that everyone is obliged to spend some time every week helping someone far worse off than themselves in some way, the reality being that both parties would benefit from the experience.

Obviously it’ll never happen, but it definitely could be the case that in schools, charity and worthy contribution ought be part of the curriculum.

Thanks to Cherie, too for her always lovely company today.

Tomorrow I have the excitement of a talk at Lily’s school about the psychological effects of modern Social Media on teenagers. It’s just incredible how different the life of a ‘ modern London teenager ‘ is from my own youth only one generation apart. Depression, self esteem issues and suicide rates have never been higher than they are now. Suicide is the most common cause of death in boys under 16, despite society enjoying vastly more material wealth overall.

Crazy situation….

PS My blood sugar level was 5.8 this morning, making it very unlikely that I’m diabetic. I no longer feel ill either, which is a relief.

It looks like I have a UTI.

Having not had one for 4 months, I hadn’t really thought about that too much. The presence of lots of nitrates in my urine made it likely that I have an infection, the doctor that eventually came performing  various tests, including a ‘ dip test ‘ on my urine.

My blood sugar level was 10.6, moderately high in itself,  but not given that I’d just eaten something. I need a ‘ fasting test’ to confirm.

One 500mg of amoxicillin and I already feel better… thank God ( or Fleming ) for antibiotics. ( My new brain then required me to remind myself of the date of discovery of antibiotics  – 1928 ) No wonder the mortality rate in wars used to be so high, without any means of treating infections.

The ridiculously dry mouth that I have could well be the side effect of my numerous medications, which the doctor suggested I reduce where possible ( In my case specifically Oxybutinin, which reduces bladder spasms and peeing myself…. so swapping a dry mouth for dry trousers then …? ) So demanding of me to expect both, it would seem.

I don’t have much going on in the daytimes, this week coming, so I need to think of things to do. I’m a bit limited by my current situation to only things in the afternoons… but all suggestions welcome. I’ve not received my free bus pass or Taxi card, but it’s someone to give me a push that I need most.

For the last few weeks I’ve had fluctuations in my clarity of my distance vision. As an optometrist, i obviously concluded that this wasn’t normal. However, I’d had 4 huge operations and been on all kinds of new medications, lots of which may have at least partially explained the issue.

For the last 5 days though, I’ve felt very strange, intermittently feeling incredibly tired ( almost instantly ) extremely thirsty and dry mouthed to the extent that I have no saliva to even suck a sweet, a voice that is no better than a whisper,  and a feeling of not really being in the place that I actually am in.

Last night, my good friend Jeremy Day caught a bus with me to Hounslow ( I can’t catch one by myself – not now)  and we went to a Quiz night event to raise money for the political party that he supports. It was good because the team table that I was on included 5 five other mates of mine, that I didn’t know would be there.

The warm up challenge was to build as high a tower as possible with a standard size newspaper. My slightly engineering tendencies appeared, and we built a 5 foot stable tower, under my direction, which was a lot higher than the other 7 teams.

James Cracknell ( team captain and long term buddy ) was moved to draw me a picture ( see enclosed ). Having won more gold medals than most people in the world, I was quite pleased to be decorated by such a sporting legend as himself.

After that promising start ( and the prize of a bottle of wine ) I started to feel very ‘out of it’ again, with spasms too.

As my catheter had somehow broken free earlier, leaving me very wet from groin to mid thigh, I assumed that perhaps the wetness was the problem…

i got a push to the disabled toilet to see if I needed ’emptying ‘ and was surprised to find no urine to get rid of.

I went back to the table, feeling even more light headed than before.

This cycle repeated itself 5 more times in 3 hours, and my quiz contribution steadily declined as the night wore on.

As I’ve no idea as to why I get strange symptoms these days ( being cut off from 60% of your body is a problem when it comes to aches, pains and injuries that you can’t even feel ) there’s no point in seeking the medical expertise of others without a speciality in Spinal Cord injury.

What I did know though, was that I should have pee’d  at least a litre during the evening,  and had instead pee’d nothing at all.

Jeremy and I got a wheelchair Uber back, and I was helped into bed by Danielle and Amber, my still dry catheter now connected to a 4 litre empty bag.

Again, I failed to fall asleep naturally ( legs too jerky ) so resorted to a sleeping pill once again.

At 10 am ( a good 10 hours later ) I was woken by Anna, my carer.  My confusion being still evident, I didn’t recognise her for a few seconds, as well as not knowing where I was. The 4 litre ( 10 pint ) bag was now full, most certainly implying that I was absolutely full to bursting with urine that wasn’t releasing. As a bladder can’t hold 10 pints of pee, what happens is that it backs up into the kidneys and makes you feel very ill.

Two hours of being washed and dressed followed, then a trip upstairs via the internal lift. I think I lasted for less than an hour before I was mumbling and falling asleep in my chair, so I was helped, half consciously, into bed, instantly going into a deep sleep for another  2 hours.

Personally, belonging to a branch of the medical profession, I’d say that my symptoms indicate the possible  onset of diabetes.

Pre injury, I was the last person in the world to expect diabetes, being extremely fit and active, carrying hardly any body fat and being very strict about what I ate and drank ( well, except for alcohol ) but now I’m subject to the very much greater risk – down to having a spinal cord injury, I am far less in control of minimising my chances of being diabetic.

I called 111 NHS  two hours ago, endeavouring to have a doctor visit ( well I am currently bed bound, and going in and out of thought clarity – I don’t even know if this post makes proper sense  –  to be fair ) but no medic has arrived or been in touch, yet.

My body is still pouring out urine – I’m up to a tally for the day of 7 litres ( 15 pints ) and that is definitely not normal. My mouth is as dry as a camel’s armpit, and my eyes keep closing.

Without sounding like a hypochondriac, I’m fairly certain that I have something else wrong with me now.

That would be par for the course, lets face it.

On a lighter note, I’m a member of the Tate Modern, so get in free with my membership. I think my ‘ carer ‘ would get in free too.

Any volunteers, please apply.

The consistently daft Turner prize entries are now on display, I think, as well as other stuff.

I reckon if I were to shit myself, and then fall asleep in the wheelchair, I could be mistaken for an exhibit, and possibly win?

UberWAV’s are fantastic!

Loads of headroom, helpful drivers, proper ramps, and no feeling ( for me ) of being a nuisance.

Black cabs have quite often driven past me without stopping…. not nice.

So I’ve realised that I don’t really fit into a Black Cab anymore.

Because my spine is so fixed, with no bend, and the cab ceiling isn’t high, they have to force my head through the door… and then when inside my head is at right angles to my body.

No more Black Cabs for me then. They’re exactly twice the cost of an Uber cab, and totally unsuitable for myself.

On a lighter note, my brain seems so active and keen to make up for 3 years of lost time, that I find myself almost compelled to find out about things that I don’t know ( and that seems to be most things )  Because the Web has the answer to every factual question, it seems unacceptable to me suddenly not to just find out, if I wonder about something .

As that’s a lot more healthy than thinking about ways to kill myself most of the time for years 2-3 post injury, I’d say I’ve made a lot of progress .

Thanks to Marta and Pia for their company, and Kim for her  help today.

From Wikipedia

Soviet famine of 1932–33. Areas of most disastrous famine marked with black
The Holodomor (Ukrainian: Голодомо́р, “Extermination by hunger” or “Hunger-extermination”;[2] derived from морити голодом, “to kill by starvation”),[3][4][5] also known as the Terror-Famine and Famine-Genocide in Ukraine,[6][7][8] and—prior to the widespread use of the term “Holodomor,” as well as currently still—referred to also as the Great Famine,[9] and The Ukrainian Genocide of 1932-33[10] was a man-made famine in Ukraine in 1932 and 1933 that killed an estimated 2.5–7.5 million Ukrainians, with millions more counted in demographic estimates. It was part of the wider disaster, the Soviet famine of 1932–33, which affected the major grain-producing areas of the country.

During the Holodomor millions of inhabitants of Ukraine, the majority of whom were ethnic Ukrainians, died of starvation in a peacetime catastrophe unprecedented in the history of Ukraine.[11] Since 2006, the Holodomor has been recognized by the independent Ukraine[12] and 24 other countries as a genocide of the Ukrainian people carried out by the Soviet Union.[13]

Early estimates of the death toll by scholars and government officials varied greatly; anywhere from 1.8[14] to 12 million[15] ethnic Ukrainians were said to have perished as a result of the famine. Recent research has since narrowed the estimates to between 2.4[16] and 7.5[17] million. The exact number of deaths is hard to determine, due to a lack of records,[18][19] but the number increases significantly when the deaths inside heavily Ukrainian-populated Kuban are included.[20] Older estimates are still often cited in political commentary.[21] According to the findings of the Court of Appeal of Kyiv in 2010, the demographic losses due to the famine amounted to 10 million, with 3.9 million direct famine deaths, and a further 6.1 million birth deficit.[18]

Some scholars believe that the famine was planned by Joseph Stalin to eliminate the Ukrainian independence movement.[11][22][23] Using Holodomor in reference to the famine emphasizes its man-made aspects, arguing that actions such as rejection of outside aid, confiscation of all household foodstuffs, and restriction of population movement confer intent, defining the famine as genocide; the loss of life has been compared to the Holocaust.[24][25][26][27] If Soviet policies and actions were conclusively documented as intending to eradicate the rise of Ukrainian nationalism, they would fall under the legal definition of genocide.[28][29][30][31][32]