IDLEMILD - Life’s Rich Pageant While On Bedrest

I have written as a form of therapy since the early days of coming to terms with being physically disabled following spinal surgery in late autumn of 2006.  I have never written anything since with certainty and I have learned over 20 years that nothing is final with my injury, I struggle with convincing myself that this is what I'm really trying to say. Some occasions there just aren't the words. But, every so often, writing can ease my mind of a few fears and lift the confusion in my head, a little.  I really enjoy the process of writing. Most of the time it amounts to very little at all being clarified but, once in a while, it can lead to the jackpot prize of some sense of settlement and acceptance. As long as I have been in a wheelchair, friends and family have insisted my story is a book in the making. I have been attempting to rise to what I see as a challenge and one, with my circumstances, I can get fully behind. Bed rest allows for quiet contemplation and is the ideal...

In the months following my discharge from the Spinal Injuries Unit I felt an inner peace which belied the magnitude of the events of the months previous. So much of life seemed familiar which brought comfort and inner confidence. I was keen to explore my surroundings and for the first time in my life I was being motivated by the gains I was clearly seeing from daily exercise. I had never felt fitter at any time in my life. It all came from pushing myself in my wheelchair everywhere. I was out on daily fact finding missions. I made it my mission to learn as much as I could about the built environment. In academic terms I knew my spinal unit experience had been foundation level, general principles. In the limited time I had been a patient there I had only scratched the surface of what I could expect to experience outside. It was up to me now following my discharge that I graduated with full honours as I saw it. Time to take the bull by the horns. I was experiencing life now n...

My last night as a patient of the spinal injuries unit there was a little celebration among the patients for me. Pizza was ordered in and while I was grateful for the send off, and for the last six months of achieving and camaraderie, it was also the case that I was in too bewildered a state to allow myself to believe that, like everyone was telling me, it would all be alright. Relaxed I was not. The spinal injuries unit had proved to be a sanctuary. In essence, my existence since my surgery had all been contained within a sort of safe little commune and I was part of a cult where no one on the outside could possibly know just what It was to be a part of a group all pulling together over many months, for the one extraordinary goal.  The thing was that this cult did not require any Waco style armed siege to break out of. There was no David Koresh keeping us against our will. It almost felt like it was too easy to leave and as I sat with my peers that final night, there w...

I came down to Glasgow from Aberdeen on a stretcher in the back of a patient transfer vehicle. I was accompanied by a woman in a wheelchair attending an outpatient appointment at the spinal injuries unit I was about to become a patient of.  I was nervous and irritated lying on my back for the 3 hour journey but she was chatty and we spoke about how we sustained our injuries and, as she had already been a patient of the spinal injuries unit, the ins and outs of life there, although I'm not sure I took any of this in given the amount of anxiety I was experiencing on the way. After a month in the hospital in Aberdeen I was attempting to savour every moment of being out on the open road again while dreading every mile we got closer to Glasgow. I couldn't see a thing outside from my bed I was strapped on to. The journey seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. I had been having quite a tranquil time of things since my surgery. I had spent almost a month in the ward in A...

I had focus only for the clock facing me in my bed, on every hour passing through the night, as the ward slept. I was steadfast in my slightly hysterical belief that staying awake would slow down time and delay my inevitable day with the surgeon's scalpel dawning .   Indeed, i had not slept one wink and time was typically unmoved by my plight to relentlessly march on, and I found myself being moved in whispers and long silences, and so unceremoniously i felt for something so seismic, out of the ward and brought to surgery on the morning of Thursday 16th November 2006.  Another reason for my lack of sleep was because I was still reeling after undergoing an unexpected procedure in the hours following my admission the day before. By late afternoon on the Wednesday I knew what I really wanted more than anything was to be able to duck out of the following days operation. The scale of events to follow finally hit home. I had been put through a lengthy ordeal, involv...