Wonderful news, you have moved. Always onwards and upwards Russ. Sounds as though , from your blog, that you are starting a very demanding regime ; that’s good news for you , we feel that you are ready for this. We shall be willing you on every step of the way. You will definitely be awarded top marks for effort , that goes without saying. Watching your progress is going to be inspirational for us and for everyone else who reads your blog. Thank you from us to the lovely Pia for for her love and care . We are so pleased that Dani and the girls are back , give them a kiss and a hug from us. Love Mum and Dad

So! Today at my new hospital the hard work starts! Firstly my beautiful wife and girls will arrive mid morning from their holiday. I can’t relay how relieved I am that they’re finally back, it’s seemed like an eternity. After hugging and kissing my girls for a few hours I get my first physio assessment at 12. They’ll establish just how much strength, balance, mobility and mindset I’ve got, I guess. Then there’s a meeting at 3, with ‘the team’ to set objectives for my stay here based on what’s realistic and what I want to prioritise I think. I’ve always been very ‘ own body aware ‘ and have realised that the reason I struggle with sitting is that my spine vertebrae are almost completely immobile (3 months lying down/ lots of titanium inserted, no surprise then ), so getting some movement back is key to progress Ive lain in bed repeatedly trying to arch my back for the last 2 days, with definite improvement , and also prompting all kinds of twitching in my left leg in particular, and my pelvis area. Whether this is a reason for optimism is unknown to me, but shit it makes ME feel like its positive. All leg movement is good! My new room has a view of a brick wall. Not quite the Shard or the Thames as now used to, but I shouldn’t moan. So I won’t. Actually I can see 2 brick walls, so twice as interesting as I’d thought. The lovely Pia and Kim helped me move by bringing all my accumulated stuff ( Amazon and the confectionary industry have done well out of my well wishers), unpacking it all this end in a logical way, so I can SEE from my bed the things I need most. If I can’t see it, I sort of forget I’ve got it… I’ve got a fridge full of chocolate, so please no more for now!! On that note, it’s breakfast time, and I’ve gotta eat, as instructed, til I’m bursting. Laters, Russ 🙂 PS massive gratitude to Monique, who flew in from bloody Canada just to see me for 3 hours. She immediately assumes first place in distance travelled to see the patient ( mind you, my parents did the same 3 months ago, so joint first..) Anyway, fantastic to see her. I only know her cos the poor girl had the misfortune to sit next to me on a plane! ( I made her drink wine from London to Vancouver, I think an education for her, and certainly an insight into Welshness) She runs ultra marathons for fun, the weirdo.

Hi Russ, let me start off by saying it was very good to finally see you. I’ve just read your blog and I’m not going to lie it brought tears to my eyes. I’m not going to sit here and say I understand what you are going through or how you are feeling but let me tell you something – You are an amazing boss, father, husband, brother, son and all the other things under the sun. I just want you to know that you are the same old Russ to me, you know I never told you this, but I really do look up to you and would love to be even half the person you are, more so now than ever before. Who cares what other people think Russ, those that ignore you or think you are a nuisance are not even worth your time…its their loss that they haven’t had the pleasure of meeting The Great Russ. You have achieved so much in life so far as you already know and as many people keep saying, and you still have loads of opportunities to achieve more. You’ve got an amazing support group around you; your family friends and all of us (your second family). And as for those shadows…’it is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light’. I have been praying for you, Russ, everyday and will continue to do so. 🙂

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Lissy, You continue to overwhelm me with your love and compassion for my situation. They are wise words from Geoff, who is obviously somewhat of an expert in both the physical and mental aspects of where I find myself. There s not much chance of me getting an OBE though, I’m very unlikely to rise to Geoff’s heights of selfless achievement. Bereavement ? I suppose that it is a little like that. I don’t think I’m in denial at all, but I don’t think that I’ve really had the time to feel sorry for myself as yet. I’ve tried to keep that at bay, made so much easier by the positivity of my many many visitors who treat me in the same way as if I were just lying in this bed with a bad cold. When that support inevitably lessens, as it will in time, I think the truth may hit me harder, but I don’t know yet. Obviously the self pity reflex will be countered by the inevitable progress I’ll be making, certainly physically at least. Of course I’m the same person. But I’ve yet to face the world as a paraplegic in a wheelchair. I’ve yet to experience how I will be treated by people I don’t know, who never knew me before. Will they ignore me, not look me in the eye, see me as a nuisance, see me as a lesser person? I won’t know what they’re thinking. Will I want to say ‘ look, I’ve not always been this way, until very recently I was a pretty impressive physical specimen who was used to high achievement in most things’ ? Are people interested in hearing about how things were, is it even relevant any more, I don’t know if people will give a shit? Will people I know talk about me as Russ who ‘used to be….’ Or me as I am now? They’re experiences I’ve not yet had, and I can’t help but feel a little afraid. I don’t want pity, but I do want understanding, or an attempt at it. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be like this, believe me. It’s really not great. Sometimes writing this diary lifts me, and sometimes it doesn’t. Today it doesn’t. I’ve now got to snap out of it and look for the bright side, though occasionally the shadows are there, and are drawing me to them. When I feel down I just want my children with me first and foremost. They don’t read this diary as far as I know, so are not pressured by my words to come to me. I’m pretty sure to them I’m the same, but they don’t really know that my my status is for life. I think they think that I might be the same as before in time, and therefore be able to do the same things with that I could before. I won’t be able to, and feel awful for letting them down. I could have taught them so much as I was before, but fear now that I won’t. A wheelchair will exclude me from so many things, make me unable to join in with the most simple of pleasures My girls have always loved me chasing them up the stairs and jumping out of a hiding place to scare them. Not being able to do that ever again is hard to confront, and fills me with guilt. Those shadows I mentioned are getting darker, so I’ll stop now. Please never ever ever take what you’ve got for granted. Russ