November 18th 2006

I had focussed on every hour passing through the night on the clock which faced me in my hospital bed as time ticked towards my date with the surgeon's scalpel. 

I did not sleep before it was time to be moved out of the ward and brought in to surgery on the morning of the 18th November 2006. It was still dark outside and the rest of the ward still slept as I was moved in whispers and long silences. It was a Thursday morning. The reason for my lack of sleep was as much to do with the day before as the day itself. 

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. On Wednesday afternoon I had just unexpectedly been put through a lengthy ordeal involving a procedure to attach (technical term eluding me!) 'electrodes', leading from various strategic points of my brain, to 'trigger' points on both legs - a form of insurance for the surgeon to reduce the risk of cutting off and through the vital nerve points of my body while attending to my spine. 

All I could think of that Wednesday afternoon was my situation now was not dissimilar to the classic board game, Operation. I could never will myself to have a steady enough hand to prise the vital organs from the wee fella on the operating table without triggering the alarm from touching the sides during game play. This was exactly the challenge now facing my surgeon. Precision was everything. The consequences for my spine and I, let's face it, I had thought about nothing else for months prior to this moment. I'm a glass half empty kind of guy! This was now utterly terrifying purely and simply because I had been so shit playing Operation all those years ago! After this procedure and back in the ward I could visualise nothing other than that deliriously spaced out wee dude on the board games crude operating table! 

I was fidgety and anxious for the rest of the Wednesday to the extent that the nurses took notice on numerous occasions. I was asked repeatedly to relax. Easier said than done while I had these loose dreadlocks of electrodes and the Operation guy acting as a constant reminder of my imminent fate. These wires had been glued to my head and were uncomfortable leading down my back. They were apparent if I lay on my back or on my side. Everything was annoying.

I had nothing to look forward to. I couldn't plan anything in advance of tomorrow. Everything was literally in the surgeons hands. I couldn't eat, read or sleep. I could not do anything for fear but just focus on the clock ticking.

Thursday morning I was wide awake but taken completely unawares when the porters and members of the surgical team seemed to swarm my bed and, before I knew quite where I was being transported to, the lift doors I'm in are pinged open and I'm met by my entire surgical team. They mean action. My anaesthetist is on me in a flash asking me to count to 10. I think I manage a count to 7 before I am so completely and literally out for the count.

It seems in an instant I come to and I immediately notice the sickly walls and vomit like I insisted I would when I came round. "Am I in intensive care? What's wrong?" Where's my stuff?" I am basically asking questions mid vomit and in the same level of panic and fear I felt presurgery. My poor nurse meanwhile is trying to place a sick bowl under my chin and reassure me it's alright and I am back up in a different part of the same ward, only while I'm under observation. 

I notice my girlfriend only as she scampers away in distress at the scene from the bottom of my bed. The lights are on in the ward and I sense the darkness outside. "Is it still morning? What time is it?" I assume as I was taken down in the dark I have returned only slightly later that morning and the surgery did not last as long as the couple of hours estimated to carry out the procedure. A little undercurrent of relief and promising signs is quickly distinguished...

"It's teatime! The surgeon will be along shortly to see you." I am reaching for the sick bowl again in shock I have been so long under anaesthetic. "You'll be ready for your tea and toast once you get all this up!" the nurse adds unhelpfully but cheerily enough. Can't she see I am in the midst of a crisis here? I am unsure the exact extent of the crisis but it's clearly a crisis. I am not feeling like the same me I was 24 hours ago. And 6lbs lighter from being this sick!

And it's Teatime? I am trying to do the maths and eventually settle on it being somewhere in the region of 9 hours since I was moved that morning! What in the hell has happened in all that time? 

The nurse shuts my curtains behind her now I'm a wee bit more settled which allows her to go off to make me tea and toast. I have no time to think before there's a voice from beyond the curtain calling my name. "How's things, Brian? I'm .... I'm next bed to yours!" 

"Ah hi, I think I'm fine. Not sure." 

I am not sure of anything anymore. I know and I'm surprised I'm not in any pain. I have my finger on the morphine button but I don't have any need to press it. My partners distress is worrying me as well as the length of time I have obviously been in theatre. At this I remind myself about my legs.

I still have legs but you wouldn't know it. I feel completely disconnected from them. I cannot see them and I cannot sit up but I'm being propped up by some pillows at the back of my head and only the bed sheet is covering my legs. I really don't want to see them. I try for a first time to move my limbs but the sensation is not unlike moving giant stones and there is no visible movement through the bed sheet. I'm no Geoff Capes. My legs are immovable. My nurse returns with my tea and toast. 

"You'll be ready for these now?" 

"I can't move my legs!?"

"That's not unusual but your surgeon will be through to see you shortly..." 

Ever get the feeling you are being played? 

The toast tastes good and I am chatting away fine with my neighbour when I'm next caught unawares as the physio team are next to call on me. 

"Mr Spalding, we have been asked to pin prick your feet and your legs..." 

I can't tell blunt from sharp and I'm guessing for the most part and there's a part of me willing myself to say yes just for the sake of having given myself hope that things may return to normal but the truth is I feel nothing blunt or sharp anywhere. 

No sooner it seems have they left and almost as if they have planned it, that my surgeon and the ward registrar are bedside wondering how I'm doing. I instinctively apologise for how long it has taken for my surgery and recall saying "you must be knackered!?" to my surgeon which we all laugh at. He explains how complex the surgery turned out to be and that the time was taken in clearing the many cysts and tumours which had unexpectedly been found running from the base of my spine all the way up to level with my shoulder blades. These had likely been growing unknowingly within me all of my thirty four years. None of these had appeared on any scans prior to surgery. The surgeon said he didn't know when these were ever going to end and feared he would have to continue into the brain, which brought with it new challenges he would rather not consider. Thankfully after some 8 hours these cysts and tumours were removed to his satisfaction and now he was holding out for a slow, steady recovery to take place and none of those tumours and cysts to be malignant on further analysis. My limbs might take up to 12 months to recover and he had a small concern that I had came out of surgery with some paralysis but it was too early for any certainty. "You relax tonight and we shall see how things are in the morning!" 

He didn't look exhausted by his days work. I lay there and attempted to take in what had been said and, possibly due to still being under the affects of anaesthetic and morphine, I felt relief it was all over and there was a what-will- be-will-be air of serenity about me. I felt my breathing steady for the first time since I came round. I had the days newspaper handed in to me and now with my curtains pulled back I could see and chat with my fellow patients for the first time. 

Later, at lights-out in the ward, I put my headphones on and listened to a couple of albums on my MP3 player. I was a little bemused by how normal I felt. I had not slept for 48 hours but was exhilarated rather than tired. I now had no great worry and there was no panic about me not being able to even twitch my legs. It was all up to me now. 

I did eventually nod off thanks in part to Liz Fraser and The Cocteau Twins and woke the next morning to overnight snow having fallen outside and my first movement of a couple of toes. A very minor win but a win nonetheless. The exhilaration I felt was off the scale seeing some toe wiggling again! 

Over the next week there was some small improvement in the response of my legs and the physios worked diligently and without showing any emotion towards my predicament or apparent improvement. They assisted me in getting me from my bed to my wheelchair I was mobilising in, without assistance, and back again. I found that every motion I had, prior to surgery, taken as a given and for granted, now had to be strategically broken down into its component parts and getting up from bed for instance involved precision planning and me almost dreading the consequence off every movement I made, even just to get both my legs over the side of the bed! Everything had to be reconsidered.

The physios soon worked me up to a point where I was attending the hospital gym. They initiated me in a program of exercises designed to ultimately re-engage with my core muscles - involving me sitting on a bench and feeling confident enough to sit without the need for my hands to balance me while seated. It was strenuous, I had to learn to trust my balance again and my energy level sure wasn't what it was. It was exhausting mentally as well as physically. 

From this starting point I could look to complete transfers independently from bed to wheelchair and back again and begin to feel like I was regaining some independence again. 

I was a little put out by being in a neurosurgical ward where it seemed everyone but myself was on a two night maximum stay and that everyone was just able to walk out of there the day after surgery. The only other guy was in the bed next to mine and he beat me seven consecutive days in a row on the chess board up to his discharge day, and by which time I was relieved, and beaten up enough by his chess prowess, to see him get away home too! 

I was waiting for a transfer to another hospital, a specialist spinal injuries unit back in my hometown of Glasgow (I had no idea such a place existed!) but with beds there at a premium, I was informed that it would be weeks rather than days before I could expect a transfer from Aberdeen. 

It was limited, with the facilities at my disposal in Aberdeen, what I could achieve with the physios there and it was a somewhat frustrating time waiting for a bed to become available in Glasgow, especially since the physios involved in my care at Aberdeen took great delight every day in telling me how much better off I would be with the facilities which would be available to me in Glasgow. 

Friends and family rallied round me as I basically took up a bed in Aberdeen while I waited for a transfer. I was able to move around the hospital freely in my wheelchair but it was a frustrating and boring waiting game. 

One night, around 11pm and long after lights-out in the ward, and I had switched off for the night, my slumber was disturbed by the swoosh of my bedside curtains being enclosed around my bed. A bespectacled gentleman in a bowtie introduced himself to me in a whirlwind of introduction, much of which I couldn't grasp or register in my stunned state, but I just about managed to get the gist that he was from the Spinal Injuries Unit in Glasgow and he was here to quickly assess me and to assure me a bed was being prepared for me to be admitted asap. He took ten minutes before asking if I had any questions?

"Are you here just to see me?" 

"Yes!"

"Have you just travelled up from Glasgow?"

"Yes!"

"You'll be staying in Aberdeen tonight?"

"No!" 

"You're heading back?"

"Yes, I have surgery in the morning!" 

I just shook his hand. A six hour out of hours round trip following a day of work and a likely 2am return to Glasgow for a likely 6am alarm call for surgery the next day, all for a ten minute consultation in Aberdeen? I was swelling with absolute pride for our NHS and absolutely assured I would be in the very best of hands once I could access an available bed in Glasgow. 

I have never been so excited to attend a hospital in all my life. 

Next time - Glasgow. 

Favourite Albums of 2022

BLUE REV BY ALVVAYS

ALVVAYS have been building up to being this good over 2 previous albums and 8 years. This is certainly the most confident and assured they have been. They sound like they really believe they belong now. Big, bold brassy shoegaze lo-fi dream pop delivered with their signature light-hearted art-pop aplomb. The outstanding Molly Rankin on vocals.

Favourite Track - Belinda Says.

ISLAND FAMILY BY THE PICTISH TRAIL

Follow up to the equally magnificent Thumb World, this is the Isle of Eigg resident and founder of Lost Map Records, Johnny Lynch's deeply personal, at times turbulent ode to the nature, isolation, the unpredictability of island life off the west coast of Scotland.  Written and produced during lockdown this is the sound of living on the edge and the verge, and of no man being an island. Yet it too is about resilience, perseverance and belonging, all deeply personal themes to wheelchair life of course. 

Favourite Track - The River It Runs Inside Of Me.

BIG TIME BY ANGEL OLSEN

I'm in love with Angel Olsen's voice, as well as Jonathan Wilson's production on this, her sixth album, and follow up to the magnificent All Mirrors. It's all about the joy and loss in relationships. Tenderness and fragility big time! It's as honest as every great country record is but it's also a rangy, breathy, echoey swoon-fest. Puts me in mind of one of my favourite albums of all time - Mary Margaret O'Hara's Miss America. It's up there!  

Favourite Track - Big Time 

NYR - to hear Angel sing live...

FOSSORA BY BJORK

Bjork can do wrong in my ears so this is Biased (with a capital B) Always inventive, surprising, pushing boundaries, and absolutely obsessive compulsive, Fossora is all of these things without ever being predictable which Bjork never is. It's arrangements are bafflingly absorbing, playing with your head with rhythmical absurdities which for the most part work and often soothe. Bjork just doing Bjork things and being utterly compelling once again.

Favourite Track - Ancestress.

THE DANCE BY AIR WAVES

Air Waves was completely new to me in 2022 and my favourite new to me act of the year. This album from the off is full of hooks. it's everything Flaming Lips have been wishing they could be be over the years (my opinion) and no gimmicks. Nicole Schneit sings with almost a reluctance, definitely a fragile vulnerability over sumptuous jazz tinged electronica. Each track short and sweet, It's captivating and all endearing. 

Favourite Track - Treehouse. 

ENTERING HEAVEN ALIVE BY JACK WHITE

Entering Heaven Alive knocks the spots off any previous Jack White album in my opinion. It's been my most played album of the year and with strong justification. It's amazng from start to finish. Subtly hinting at the best of McCartney, Beck, Prince, White manages to avoid pastiche and stamp his own authority all over his legendary peers. He is that good on this! 

Favourite Track -If I Die Tomorrow.

ALPHA ZULU BY PHOENIX

Recommended by a pal, Phoenix have been missing from my life for far too long (they formed in 1995) on the evidence of Alpha Zulu. I like it for being upbeat and positive about our lives, the most welcome antithesis to how we are all meant to be feeling, if you choose to believe the press and the media narrative? Straight up great pop tunes while never cheesy. 

Favourite Track - After Midnight.  

EVERYTHING WAS BEAUTIFUL BY SPIRITUALIZED

Jason Pierce man! Pulls at every sinew of your physical and emotional being with his deep cuts of catchiness, dreamy spacewalk vibes and earworm-laden choral symphonic melodies. This never ever gets boring despite it being ever so Spiritualized. Get this in your lugs! Long live Spaceman! 

Favourite Track - The Mainline Song/The Lockdown Song.

DRAGON NEW WARM MOUNTAIN I BELIEVE IN YOU BY BIG THIEF

20 ambitious, inventive and beautiful songs and 1 hour and 20 minutes of sitting by the metaphorical camp fire and letting Big Thief warm your heart. Adrianne Lenker and Buck Meek pull at your heartstrings on vocals, almost eavesdropping on their intimacy through these songs, while I personally cannot ever get enough of jaw harp and mandolin - used to great effect here, always very comforting. An amazing album. 

Favourite Track - Spud Infinity.

NIEMANDSLAND BY PYROLATOR

This year I have stumbled upon the Hamburg based record label Bureau B. They tend to release artists in the finest traditions of Kraftwerk, Can and Neu! and Pyrolator is one of numerous artists on the label I have been impressed by. This is the 6th album in Kurt Dahlke's 'Land' series. It's overall gentle formulaic ambience is occasionally interspersed with chaos, mirroring our vulnerable lives, most apt for vulnerable times. Written during lockdown it's clear where the influence for this excellent record came from. 

Favourite Track - Yukatan. 

SMALL WONDERS BY STARRY SKIES

It's hard to ignore someone who you has your measure, who seems on your own wavelength, who can help you out of a tight spot with some spot-on lyrics. One of very few musicians I have felt the need to reach out to. It's also nice to see your name on the sleeve! Great range of styles on this showcasing Warren's songwriting versatility. A highlight of my year meeting the man himself too!

Favourite Track - On The Beach. 

ALBUM CLUB BY ALBUM CLUB 

My late Grandads local features on the sleeve and times have changed. The Laurieston was all cloth cap and scallywag back in the early 80s when he'd take me and his dog Shep out for a walk - he'd have his pint here before we'd walk along Paisley Road West to The Old Toll Bar for his dram before home. Now The Laurieston is an ideas lab for music as good as this! I think he would still approve seeing the enjoyment written on my face. ♥️

Favourite Track,- Transmissions From The Moon. 

The Worst Knees Up Of My Life!

The date of my spinal surgery is an anniversary I have come to know and loathe every year since November 18th 2006. I still really struggle. But, I can only guess at the date the incident which led to my surgery took place. Even the year is vague. We could be going back as far as late 2004 to early 2005 for reasons I'll explain. 

It's a winter's morning in Aberdeen. It has been snowing for days and although there's been a partial thaw, the remnants make for tricky underfoot conditions especially first thing in the morning following sub zero temperatures overnight. 

I have hated days like this all of my life. I have never the right shoes for days like this. I have came a cropper before and it's a mixture of cold and nerves which make me shiver on days like this. 

I'm opening the shop that morning so I'm out early ahead of time of the regular commute, first up and out it seems. My street is long and winding. It is on a main bus route and while I would usually walk 20 minutes to work, I am already decided to let the bus take the strain today as I leave my flat. If there are buses? I'm trying to think if I have heard one pass already that morning and am uncertain I have as I take my first tentative steps on the icy pavement. 

Unfortunately my flat is equidistant between bus stops and even on a good day it's a couple of minutes walk. Thankfully it's all on the flat but so too is ice skating and I have avoided that all of my life for a reason! I am already feeling my feet begin to momentarily give way with each step and I am making small adjustments which are making me sweat on my brow and swear under my breath. 

There is no-one at all out on the street. It's never this deserted. Again unusually there isn't a car in motion either. Aberdeen is under a self certificated snow day but no one has told this Weegie! Am I doing this for Glasgow? I don't think I ever consider turning back.

I am slowly and unsurely getting there. No step I'm taking I am sure of and it's taking ages to go anywhere. I try not to feel in any urgency.

It is massive relief and I don't think I have ever felt more grateful when I finally reach the junction. I would normally take it when walking to work. The junction would, on 'normal' days, give me the option to turn left which would take me downhill to the riverside. This is not  one of those days. Nothing has been gritted. Nothing is normal. 

The slope and the ice make the side street impassable. The bus stop is another twenty yards further on. It's sheltered and there's a patch of clear pavement contained within the shelter. It looks the most welcoming sight, like coming home to a warm fire.

Whether it's the proximity to the bus stop or the thought of finally stepping on terra firma for the first time that morning, I let my confidence and my stride increase and is that a bus I'm now hearing in the distance? 

My stride extends as my concentration wavers. I am probably looking at the bus stop now rather than full concentration still on what my feet are doing. It is the bus! I have crossed the junction and I am the striker who is celebrating before the ball has crossed the line. And its a schoolboy error from Spalding. 

Funnily enough I'm opposite the local school gates. I have collapsed and my legs are in one almighty mess. I am in an instant disbelief at the carnage of twisted limbs my torso sits atop of. My body and my legs seem separated. I am certain that I have broken both my legs and I am bracing myself for the pain. I am preparing to scream as the bus trundles past me. The drivers eyes were on the road all the time and they haven't noticed my fall. Or they have and it's nothing they haven't seen before. If only this were the case. I am about to feel pain like I have never felt pain before! 

There is still no-one else in sight. I have passed no-one I could yell back to. The bus engine noise is fading into the distance and I am sitting broken, still and numb.

Just numb. No pain. No need to yell out in anguish just yet. But it's building and it's inevitable. A part of me is relieved nobody else has just witnessed my spectacular fall. I sort of come to. I don't know how I have come to be facing away from the bus stop now? My eyes are now focusing on the telephone box I have not long passed but it is now back across the junction I have just successfully crossed. I actually wonder if I could hobble in my current pose to make a call for an ambulance. I'm still sure my legs are broken. I can barely look at their level of disfigurement. It makes me feel queazy in my stomach. Thank God I have gone without breakfast that morning. I had already promised myself a sausage roll at The Bakers Oven for my tea break that morning, as a reward! A chill is now moving in on me too.

I have quickly discarded as crazy any thoughts regarding the telephone box and I am now weighing up the consequences of attempting to move my legs. I am still numb. There is a small two brick high wall behind me which marks the border between the row of long disused and boarded up shops I have fallen in front of and the row of residential tenements. The bus stop is just beyond the wall! I begin to move my upper body back to allow my hands to reach for the wall and, on asserting my grip, I begin to stretch my body and relieve the pressure somewhat from my torso on my stricken legs. I feel relief just from the stretch and in a single move I lift myself up to sit upright on the wall.

There's still no pain and now for the first time I can see my legs out in front of me. I can't really describe what I'm feeling. I'm in disbelief. I am actually believing I can fix this myself. My legs look slightly more like their old selves. I am certainly now in a more regular seated position. 

Instinct again kicks in - because there sure isn't any textbook for this kind of thing ,- and I'm now vigorously rubbing both my thighs, as if that might help!? 

This I carry on for some minutes. I am still fairly certain an ambulance is required and that I can just forget about work and that sausage roll. As I rub I am also beginning to feel for damage and gently press around my knee area. I'm feeling for obvious bone misalignment and/or swelling but there is no reaction to this from my leg, and visually, there is no apparent swelling noticeable albeit through my trouser leg. 

More confident than I have been that morning that I have no significant damage I now cup my cold hands under my thighs at my knees and, ignoring the chill of wet trouser, gently begin to raise both knees up towards my chin - the worst knees up of my life by far! - but there's no pain in doing this, I'm feeling in an almost trance-like state, and I'm sure there was a positive response to this from at least one of my feet, both of which are now planted on the ground. I then untie one shoelace and still very gingerly take the shoe and my sock off. There is no apparent swelling to my foot or my ankle and I swear I can feel the chill of the morning rush through my toes. I then press at my toes individually and the blood returns to them as I lift from the pressing and I manage to wiggle each toe individually and collectively. It's the first indication of any sensation and there is a welcome warmth flooding through me now on this discovery. 

With my sock and shoe back on, I can't quite believe I am even considering this after what's just occurred but I am now thinking I can stand up. There is only a few metres to reach the bus stop and if I can just get on the bus, depending on how my legs respond to this, I can either get off at my work or carry on to the hospital itself as the bus handily serves both destinations. 

There is nothing I can hang on to as I rise and so it's all or nothing on my legs taking the weight of my body. And is that another bus I'm hearing now? I have no concept of the time this has all taken. The bus timetable has been all over the place for days due to the adverse weather. I have been all over the place for maybe 5 minutes tops? Longer? I have no idea 

But all my focus now is on being on that next bus. As it comes into view round the bend of my street, I count to three under my breath and lift off. My legs respond like a couple of rocket boosters launching a space shuttle. There's fire in my feet and while I think I have closed my eyes in a silent prayer, I have risen and, slightly bewildered, with a slight whiff of altitude sickness, I am somehow miraculously standing again.  

Everything feels like it should and there is no pain involved in standing and my legs are almost moving for the bus themselves before I can quite get my head round my luck. I step on and almost feel like spilling everything that's just happened out to the driver but I only just manage to stop myself.

"I thought it was just me out today!" he said "First passenger of the day!"

I take my ticket and sit. My bum is freezing as I remember how wet my trousers will be from falling. I am again assured by feeling the chill on my bum. In the ten minutes to my stop in the city, I remain in some disbelief that I seem to be entirely fine. I get off my usual stop for work and go about my business as normal prior to the days trading. 

All morning I am absolutely fine. I have full mobility and I'm up and down stairs as usual and moving about the shop floor fine. I remain in some state of disbelief but I am seemingly fine and 'dandy! (A wee Aberdeen reference there!)

It is all fine until not long after lunch and by now I have put events of the morning more or less behind me and I am carrying a small box of stock from the basement up to the 1st floor of the store. Without any warning I suddenly feel what amounts to nothing more than a sudden sharp scratch across my kneecap and I can do nothing but collapse. I manage to pick myself up again and gather in my loosely strewn books back into my box. Again nobody but me witnesses this, as I'm partly hidden by a large table display. There are no after effects but I now know that something isn't right. 

A few more days go by before this sensation not unlike an-itch-you-must-scratch only this one doesn't last long enough to give you that opportunity, occurs again. This time, I go and see my boss and say I need to arrange quite an urgent appointment with my doctor. I am seen later that afternoon and she arranges for me to attend A&E for a scan on both legs. 

Nothing untoward is noticeable from the imaging and I have a few more months of very occasional and all-too-brief incidents involving this scratch. There is no warning sign nor any pattern. I feel like laughing at myself as a coping mechanism but I know I must look like a drunk to unsuspecting passers by and customers who have by now witnessed these incidents occurring.

I am becoming more concerned with each incident and am soon noticing a gradual decline in my mobility. I am beginning to trip on cracks on the pavement and have difficulty with getting up and down even one step without an aid like a rail to help me. I find myself looking for drop down kerbs which help me to cross the road but there is also one or two occasions with oncoming traffic I get on my hands and knees to crawl up onto the pavement as it's the only way I find I can. I no longer have it in me to bring my knee up that far unaided. Any sense of balance and trust in my legs has by now apparently left me. 

I am seen by my GP again and she has had time to read through my mountain of notes and is considering that this may connect in some way with my spina bifida. I am momentarily rocked back in my seat as I am fairly certain that no one else in my entire existence to this point has referred to 'that' by name! 

I am petrified. She refers me for MRI's and to the Neurosurgical Department at Aberdeen Royal Infirmary. She also issues me with a set of crutches to mobilise with and signs a three month long sicknote while investigations take place. 

Three months become six months and my crutches are cumbersome and so difficult to manoeuvre with. Doing anything which requires my hands while I'm stood up on them is nigh near impossible and I take to sitting around frustrated as hell at home.

One morning taking a shower there is a massive amount of blood surrounding my feet on the cubicle. I have disturbed a pressure area I've been unaware of existing, from all of the sitting around I have been doing and have opened a small cavity on one of my butt cheeks. 

I stem the blood flow using up rolls of toilet paper and attend A&E. By this time I have a date for my spinal surgery but on informing the nurse of this she tells me it won't be attending anywhere while I have this wound. I am now entering months of every second day going back and forward (by bus) to a wound clinic for fresh dressings. Months of additional time off work but thankfully they are supportive; that at least is one less thing I have to worry about.

Eventually after many months delay I receive the all clear from the wound clinic and I am referred back to Neuro. A date is set. 

It's for November,16th 2006. 

I lived on Walker Road too! 

Next time: November 16th 2006.