Just.

As I wait here, to be carried on to the plane, another ( much larger ) gentleman arrives in a chair.
He is being pushed, and holds a very large Coke.
The small wheels at the front of his chair catch on the lip of the carpet and he flies forward out of his chair, onto the floor.

As he picks himself up and gets back into his wheelchair, I’m impressed that he manages not to spill a single drop of his enormous Cola.

Ok.. So I’ve seen Alan and Wendy, Dylan, my parents, spent lovely time with Debs, seen Sophia, been to work, met Niki properly, been to Dorney lake to watch Lily rowing ( with Julie ), met a lot of other school parents, met Neil ( the Vicar )

I saw Mike Smith, Dickon and Catrin Stainer, Jackie Hawthorn, a few of The Feltham Crew, Dom the Surgeon, Irinder, Sonia, Ina and Jayna, former Miss UK, Sima, Heidi, my new mate, Huw, and so many more at the boxing.
Forgive me for missing anyone out.

Roy Merritt dropped in too.

My long suffering mate, Charlie Perkins had organised a University reunion to coincide with my being in London, and it was especially good to catch up with Hartley ( not his real name ) who talked about the last time he’d seen me – battered and freshly injured whilst in London Bridge Hospital in August 2013. I remember him visiting and noting how nervous he looked. What I didn’t know was why. He explained that before entering the hospital room, it’d been explained to him that he’d be shocked by my appearance, and cautioned not to let on that I was 3 stones lighter than I was aware of, had lost patches of hair, and had big, bloody, weeping holes in my face.
I would hardly be able to speak to him, having a tube stuck into my throat, and would perhaps not make much sense.
I recall him coming once, but not the other two times, so much of back then being a blur to me, both now and I think at the time.

Most of those at the reunion were at the one a year ago, and back then I wasn’t long out of hospital. I don’t think I wrote about it at the time, but the reality was that all of the women talked to me and most of the lads hardly did.
At the time I was upset about that but didn’t, I think, talk about it.
I brought it up on Thursday to a few of the guys ( men that I’d played rugby with at 18-20 years old, drank with, later went to weddings with, and that id regarded as friends ). I asked them why they couldn’t speak to a guy that desperately needed to be spoken to.
Nobody avoided the conversation, and all confessed to having had no idea what to say to me. I’ve found this a fair bit, since my being in a wheelchair, there being a male awkwardness, a not knowing how to act or what to say. It may be hard for some guys, but however hard it is for them, believe me that it’s worse for me, that feeling of being avoided. Women that do it are few and far between, but there are some. I saw a lady on Friday who has looked the other way on several occasions, but this time couldn’t avoid being obliged to say hello.
It’s easy to tell when someone is pretending they haven’t seen you, and the irony is that i remember those people more clearly than the people acting normally…

Thank you to Bret and Chrissy for inviting us to Bret’s party, for Andy Richards for organising a table for a lunch, to those that came to it , namely Trudy, Emma, Marta and John, Cress and Toby and Vanessa, all of whom accommodated me, to Larry and Sarah for hosting a dinner (kind of) in my honour, and for the well of good feeling that flows my way from most of the guests at the 3 different occasions.
Thanks to 6 of Amber’s friends for making me smile all day at, and on the drive to and from, her 11th Birthday zip wire party, and to my wife for organising just about everything, as usual.

Thanks to Alison Stretchworks Evans for so much, likewise to Cherie Duir-Howe, and thanks also to the lots of people who tried to arrange to meet up to say hi ( especially Amber, who I let down) but where we just couldn’t fit it in.

Thanks to Chrissy and Bret, and Pia, and also Phil ( and Chrissy ) for the push across 200 metres of grass to watch Amber play netball on Thursday.

Plus to Alan, Wendy and Dylan for their love.

I saw I think literally hundreds of people that I knew, and realised how good it is to be at home.
I try not to think about home, whilst in America, it getting me down if I do.
But it’s a very positive thing, knowing that if I can make being in America tolerable ( even happy ) then I have the prize of my return to London, ahead of me.

I also realised that, of those that I met with, hardly anyone looks at this blog ….

So hello Mum, Pia, and the 5 others that are reading this.
X

My ex employee, Sheila, arrives tomorrow, having volunteered a week of her time to keep my company, and help me with stuff.

I’m not all post injury fiercely independent, as some are, rather taking a maybe more common sense approach that if it’s far easier for someone else to help you with it, then swallow your pride and let them.
I hope I’m not betraying the Paralysed Brotherhood by saying that, but there are some, I’m sure, that might think that way.
To be honest, I get very lonely, very quickly now, so having someone cheerful around, with a bit of intuition, is an opportunity I won’t pass up.

I’ve hardly seen Sheila for the last 7 years or so, so for her to offer to give me a hand for a week, 4000 miles from her husband and young son, really is an act of generosity.

I really hope that it’s not something that she lives to regret…. So desperately hope not to upset her in any way.

Watch this space.

I awoke at 5, my foot twitching, sending me a message that I my bladder was too full, and if I didn’t catheterise it would soon be too late.

I didn’t sleep after that, knowing my all too brief visit home was about to be over.

Amber came in to our room at 7, got into our bed for a chat and a goodbye for a few minutes, then was gone.
Lily came in an 45 minutes later, as usual saying she had only a few minutes before she had to get the bus.

That I wouldn’t see either of them for possibly 3 months definitely seemed to weigh more heavily on myself than on them.
Three months to an adult is quite a long time, to an 11 year old .. Well it’s just a number, rather than a reflection of not caring.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Dan White came by for a quick visit, and said he’d see me in Louisville before too long. He was wearing shorts, reminding me of the changing of the season in Britain and how much I liked paddling in the springtime before work.

I drove to Heathrow, Dani with me, parked in the short stay at Terminal 2, and then the poor girl unloaded my heavy case and then her Heavy Husband and Wheelchair combo.
We checked in, and she saw me to the Special Assistance bit.
At this point I’m acutely aware that despite every ounce of goodwill, I’m designated freight rather than a passenger, definitely on the airline, (and often, in my head, the rest of the time too ).

As the few minutes before she left me ticked by, that familiar sense of sadness and regret came over me. Regret for the sequence of events, almost certainly within my control, that would have prevented my accident, and sadness for the consequences of it, affecting my children, my wife, and my life.

I’m on the flight now, a few hours into the 14 hour total journey.
It’s not anywhere near as daunting as 2 months ago, my knowing that my destination hotel, hospital, therapists there, are all survivable.

I find myself looking beyond the end of this clinical trial, to the possibility of my being chosen for what has become ( at least for me ) the Holy Grail.
As I’ve alluded to before, they are doing amazing things in Louisville, with the help of The Christopher and Dana Reeves Foundation, in the desperate search for a cure/ treatment of paralysis through spinal cord injury.
So far 8 guys like me have surgically received an Epidural Implant, and ( certainly the initial four ) regained some sensation, control and function below their spinal injury.
Not walking, perhaps barely standing, but controlled movement, and control of toilet ( restroom ) function represents a massive improvement in lifestyle and dignity.

Surveys of the Spinally Cord Injured 2 years after injury have shown that 98% would forego walking ‘ just’ to have the Big Three back ( the 3rd being sexual sensation and reaction ).
That might seem strange to anybody without this injury, but the loss of those 3 truly is a shocker, along with the more outwardly obvious inability to walk, sit up, lean over, move legs, move arms, use hands and even simply breathe.

The Big Idea is to operate on 35 people in the next few years, a number large enough to prove or disprove this as a ‘treatment’.

I can’t tell you how much I’d like to be on this particular trial, having the opportunity to regain something, indeed anything.

One thing is for sure… That by being here, I have more chance than if I’m not. I can’t select myself, or have the option to pay for it ( though it would be crazily expensive ) so all I can do is to be in the arena, and be compliant, and be clinically suitable.
The first two I CAN influence, the third I can’t.

If offered the chance, then I would take it ( and there is the eventuality of it not working ) and it would mean another year at least, I’m guessing, here in Kentucky…. for the pre op, the operation, and the post op retraining of paralysed parts to function again.

It probably won’t be the case that I’ll be selected, but I need to at least try, to make my own luck.

The Park Club Boxing ( part 2 ) was an amazing night.
Second time around for me, I was conscious that I felt more a part of it. Last time I was so fresh out of hospital, so fazed by the real world, indeed afraid of it all, that it was almost surreal.
This time I just enjoyed it, saw countless people I knew, had so many laughs, absorbed the energy of the night, and felt very privileged to be there.

The 8 bouts were all closely contested, all the lads clearly wanted to win in front of their friends and families, the crowd was absolutely passionate in its’ support, and it was very noisy from start to finish.

After being carried from the bar ( no, not what you’re thinking), and down the steps by Dan, Tim, Chaff and Terry ie the Club senior management, Terry gave me a push into the Dome. I was in the chair that makes me stand up, allowing me to be 6 foot again, enabling me to once more be up there with the rest of you.
I forget, now that I’m at chest height, sat down, that once stood up, I’m taller than most people, which ( now ) never ceases to surprise me.
The problem with the chair is that it weighs so much, so I do need a push, to go anywhere.

They again parked me up at the Judges’ table, with Johnny and Adam from Sky’s Ringside, along with James Cracknell and Dani too.
It’s definitely the best view in the Dome, and almost feels like being in the ring.
I did wonder how I’d have done in there, pre injury, had things been different, and I was fighting for someone else, for charity. I’m pretty sure I’d have put myself forward to fight, and then embraced the training completely. I think my strength and fitness would have made me a bit of a handful for whoever I was pitted against, but we’ll never know.

There seemed to be a never ending supply of drinks put in front of me, and the combination of not much food, hardly any sleep, the wine, and the altitude of standing did result in my being a bit pissed, frankly… But then again, other than the boxers, everyone else was too.

The after show party went on til 2, by which time I was anybody’s, though thankfully in the fairly safe hands of Pia and Cliff, Dani and my parents..as well as undoubtedly a fair few others that had an eye on me.

Again I want to thank everyone involved in the Park Club Boxing, Dan, Ali and Lee, the fighters, Sky, Adrian Chiles, Steve the referee, the pro boxers that came and gave their support ( James Degale, Kevin Mitchell, John Ryder). It was a massive success, everyone there had an extremely good time, and I’m sure it raised a fair bit for the cause ( amount not yet determined).

I’m already looking forward to next year.

So I flew back ‘ all by myself ‘ from Louisville to London.. Except, I’m happy to say that people actually helped me left, right and centre.

Cindy gave me a lift to the airport,kept me company through customs and to the Gate itself. Thank you, you’re an angel.

Then the assistance takes over- ok not great to need pushing and carrying on board a plane, but necessary obviously.
Plenty of smiles all round made it easier inside my head.
An hour to Chicago, and then a transfer onto another plane, with a short stop in a United Airlines airport lounge where the staff couldn’t have been more helpful ( food and wine brought to me, plus help transferring from my chair onto a sofa, and back ).

Then onto the next plane, destination London, with another transfer to an ‘aisle seat’ – a narrow wheelchair that fits down an aircraft aisle, plus help into the proper seat ( mine, as requested next to the window, and away from passing trolleys and people luckily enough to get about on their own legs ).

My friend, Julie Watson, having worked for United since she was a child, had emailed and asked the cabin crew to look after me, which they did – including the provision of more wine, though I didn’t push my luck.
I was a little concerned about the need to have a pee whilst on an 8 hour flight, necessary I’d say for anyone.
As I cant ‘feel’ it, I have to guage it depending on how long it’s been since the last time, and how much fluid I’ve had to drink.
As I cant walk to the loo, I have to do what I need to in my seat. My pre planned strategy was just to be straight with whoever sat next to me, and say that I could either wait til they got up and then try to do what I needed to, or else ask them to hold up a blanket to give me a little privacy for the few minutes it takes. I’d assure them that it wasn’t noisy, it didn’t smell, and they wouldn’t get wet.
In the event I couldn’t have had a more understanding person than Lisa sit next to me. A mum of 2, my age and a biologist. I explained, she was totally cool, and she opted for the holding up a blanket approach.

Twice, as it happened, on account of the wine.

Thank you, Lisa.

I did manage to nod off for a bit too, awaking to find myself all tucked up in a blanket, borrowed from First Class (again Lisa’s doing)

Landing in Heathrow Terminal 1, at 5.30 am, I did have to face the prospect of a full day and then a night out at my charity boxing event, til 2 am, with just about an hour’s sleep in total, but watching Wales beat Ireland in the 6 Nations got my adrenaline flowing sufficiently to keep me going through to Fight night itself.

And once there, there was absolutely zero prospect of me even feeling tired…

Dani picked me up at the airport, and it was lovely to see her, and Lily, once home again.
I didn’t see Amber til 18 hours later, when she got back from a school trip to France, and at 2 in the morning not that talkative..

I’d been nervous about the journey, to be honest, firstly about the solo flight, and secondly that having left America, I might not want to go back.

I think it says something for my progress that actually I don’t dread my return to the States at all, in fact now thinking of my reasons for being there as a priority, at this particular point in my life, and an opportunity that I simply cannot afford to pass up.

And once I’ve recovered, I’ll tell you more….
Hardly slept in 3 days!

So now that I’m about to go home for 10 whole days of not being electrocuted … I’m gonna sort of miss my Frazier rehab therapy team of Jamie, Mitch, Tabby,Brittany and Aaron.

Thanks all, for your constancy of good humour, spirits and friendship, which has helped me to get this far, and made life here better for me.

Thanks to Ken, for tonight, and to Cindy ( in advance ) for helping me tomorrow, to get to the airport.

Russ

Well I’m not smoking on the outside… But maybe internally….??