I’m reading a book, written by a brain and spinal cord surgeon.
His job deals with life and death every day, operations going well, and operations going badly.

He talks about the dilemma he has inside, when operating, knowing that he may well keep patients alive, but in varying states of disability.

I took a picture of one of the pages of the book.

It obviously got me wondering what was going on in the minds of the surgeons that kept me alive in France, given they told my relatives that it was very possible that IF I woke up, I might be severely mentally disabled.

On Saturday we drove to Wales, having been invited by my bro, Stu, and my sis in law, Mandy.
He’d arranged for my aunties, Gill and Rose, and my uncles, Mike and Den, to be there too, along with my nephews, Sam and Ben.

I don’t see my relatives very often now, and my girls don’t get to meet them much at all.
When I do see them, it takes me back to my childhood, and all the very funny stories from our past. Welsh people and their banter and completely inappropriate irreverence, are unique, I’m sure.

It’s clear that my injury has had a profound effect on members of my family in Wales, me being probably one of the last people that would be suited to being wheelchair bound.

My children are now taller than most of their Welsh relatives, which is funny to see.

I’m sure we’ll make the effort to see more of them from now on.

I gave my speech,which seemed well received ( they laughed at all the correct times and fell quiet at the not so happy bits ) and I shook a lot of little hands.
After a bit I switched from handshakes to High Fives… which proved to be more popular – shaking hands isn’t particularly natural for under 10’s, whereas slapping a hand really hard does seem to be.

Beaming little faces are a tonic for pretty much everything, so I had a good time.

Thanks to the school for inviting me.

Along with yet another raging UTI, I’m at Lily’s school Sports Day.
She’s disappointed to get silvers in the Long Jump and Sprint Hurdles, but did clean up convincingly in the 100metres.

She definitely gets her speed from my side of the family, not her Mum’s side – the girls get their looks and intelligence from Dani – so I feel proud that a bit of me is winning, still.

I think I’m the only parent here, or was, now that a few more have just turned up.

All the kids have suddenly turned into adults ( physically )though most of the boys are still pretty scrawny.

Last night, before I started to feel very unwell ( again ) we attended the school prize giving, seeing Lily collect the ( most important ) prize, the Drama prize – at least Lily told me it was the most prized prize.

Me being me, I’m watching the Sports Day events and trying to guage which ones I’d have won if the 15 year old me could have been here.

I took my own Sports Day’s very seriously, only being in it to win it, and then absolutely bereft if/ when I didn’t come first in everything I entered. I then lived in internal and unspoken shame until the following year, and a chance to redeem myself.

Lily has just missed out on winning the girls’ Year overall athletic Prize. Had she jumped only 2cm further in the Long Jump, she’d have got it, and her name engraved on the trophy for ever more.
That margin of closeness would have haunted me for life, I think, but Lily is far more relaxed about it, which is definitely a good thing. I’m very proud of her in so many ways. As she is the youngest in her year ( as I was ) she’ll be at a physical disadvantage still, in terms of growth and strength, so has done really well.

Tomorrow I’ve been invited to make a short speech and give out the prizes in my children’s’ primary school. I’m very touched to have been asked, the first parent to have been, it appears.
As the volume of my voice is seeming to be getting weaker again, I’m relieved there is a microphone. I have written down what I’ll say, but may end up ad libbing a bit too.
There’ll be a bit of a palava getting me and/in my chair up the steps to the level of the pulpit area, and there I’ll stay for the whole proceedings, until they get me down again, old churches not having been built to be wheelchair accessible.

It was Amber’s Sports Day today too, and she’d made it clear that parental attendance would be very unwelcome… in her own ‘spirited’ way.
She did do well in the unusual combination of the Shot put and the 80m sprint, coming second in both ( tho disappointed with the Shot result, as she is usually the strongest put’er in her year )
The spit of her sister in looks and height, she is not the same body composition, Amber being a lot stronger.
I’m sure if she could convert her power into a more relaxed delivery, she could be amazing.
But I adore her either way.

My op has been delayed , til August at the earliest.

Bloody spasms on the general increase!

As Wales achieve unparalleled heights of footballing success, I’m not feeling that the UK is behind our little country.

After all, the Welsh have always been incredibly supportive of English teams in the past, haven’t they?

Today is the 100th anniversary of the first day of the Battle of the Somme.

To think that 60,000 allied soldiers died on that day alone ( and 1 million soldiers over the next 141 days ) is just beyond belief.

I heard earlier about a 12 year old lad that tricked his way into the British force and survived in that battle for 6 weeks before his age was discovered and he was sent home.
That’s the same age as my youngest daughter.
What an incredible child he must have been.

My spinal operation date remains elusive.
I was fixating on july 15th, and then the 18th, but both aren’t now available.

My back crunches audibly whenever I move now – usually making my legs jerk at the same time.

Thanks to Mary for her visit, to Nev for his time, to Cherie for her charming company, and of course to Iceland for putting England out of its misery.

I have faith in the UK and Ireland now uniting behind Wales in Europe 16… all the way to the lifting of the Cup.

It seems that I’ve been given a diagnosis of moderate depression, tied up with PTSD – that’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I’m not sure if my occasional flash backs to my crash are real or imagined.
As I recall little of the whole day or the 2 days before, I can’t see how I’d recall the crash.

The images in my head, of me lying on my smashed front, in the road, seem real enough.

My spasms haven’t stopped for the last 24 hours.
I now can’t get into bed by myself, or feel confident to push my wheelchair alone, for fear of spasms jerking me out onto the ground.

I’m going so far into reverse in this journey, it’s unbelievable.
Things that only seemed hard a year ago are now near impossible.