Sunday night, back on the ward.

I’ve discovered that if I put the rails up either side of the bed ( yes, just like a baby’s cot ) that I can then cross my legs ( using my hands ) and do ‘dips’ – up and down. 

I wonder if anyone has ever done this before in the paralysis ward of  a hospital, or indeed in any other ward ?
I’m feeling pretty pleased that  my inventive nature has given me another way to briefly escape my torment. 
I’ve been home for the weekend. 
My darling wife has had it fairly badly these last 2 days, as I’ve had let’s say an upset stomach.
Besides single handedly doing all the things two parents normally do, she also has had the burden of me to cope with. 
I can’t apologise enough to her for placing her in this situation – it’s just not fair that she has to deal with the fallout of MY folly. 
Prior to these last few months, the only time I think my wife ever saw me cry was at the alter on our wedding day, where I was overcome with emotion. 
Now, I am egg-shell fragile.

 The most likely reason I break down is over the guilt I feel for the work I cause Dani. 
She resumes work this week and I am desperate not to distract her from her professional life in any way. 
Short of not coming home at the weekends any more I’m not sure how I can do that. 

I loved seeing my girls this weekend as I always do. Amber was under the impression that I wasn’t having to go to hospital anymore. Telling her it would be at least another month til I’d be around more was heartbreaking for me to explain to her innocent face. 

Today I saw my loyal friends, Jeremy ( one of the guys on the bike trip ) and Mac and Laura. 
I know my fellow cyclists all know that but for the grace of God, it could have been any of them here, broken, in this bed, and I see the emotion on their faces when I see any of them. Some have been particularly compassionate to Dani and I, and I thank them for being  there for us. 

The worst part of my day is often the first part – the visit to the toilet. 
It’s the most humiliating part of my daily grind, even though invariably I am alone. 

Dan White often calls me, uncannily, whilst I’m ‘busy’ and I save a few emails to open as I’m sat there in my rubber gloves.
 I can’t always answer when it rings  as I risk soiling my phone for ever, or dropping it down the bog. 

The other day I asked myself a series of questions whilst sat there, holding on to a rail to stop myself falling off:
1. if I’d trade places with either of my daughters if they were paralysed. 
My answer: yes, instantly. 
2. If I’d trade my current situation for normality but having also traded my action packed and fantastic life for 46 years for a mundane, dull life instead. 
My answer: no, I wouldn’t. The life I led was worth the penalty I’m now arguably paying for it. 
( at this exact moment I’m feeling particularly crushed and not so sure about that answer as it doesn’t take into account the effect it’s had on my family )
3. If I could swap my life for normality again by inflicting my injury on someone else instead? 
My answer: no, I couldn’t. There’s no one I’ve met in any part of my life that I’ve disliked enough to inflict this nightmare  upon them.
 And I’ve met some very unpleasant people. 

This diary entry is depressing, I know. 
Again just now I sobbed here alone, as I got a text from Dani saying she has Amber cuddling up to her in bed at home  tonight. 
If I get a cuddle in bed, I can only feel any contact above mid chest or above mid back, all else is absent. 
Can you imagine how that feels? 
Thankfully you don’t have to. 
But do me a favour. If you are in bed with someone tonight, cling on to them, and savour every square centimeter of human  contact that you can feel. 
You can’t imagine how much you’d miss that if you lost it. 

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