*This post was originally published on Facebook on Wednesday 5th June 2024*
Off the back of yesterday's Bicycle post I received a couple of messages asking about my spina bifida.
It's a strange old thing. I'll try to explain it in the most basic way I can.
It's true that although I was born with it, it more or less left me alone for more than thirty years. You wouldn't have known to look at me that I was born with a disability. I was born with a spinal cord which hadn't fully formed. Spina bifida means 'split spine'. I had a gap at the base of my spine which disrupts the messaging carried from the brain and down the spinal cord. Its cause is still disputed - a folic acid deficiency is the most common reason given. It attacks the nervous system and tends to disable the function below the level of injury. In my case I really should have been born without any ability to walk and most likely complications with bowel and bladder function.
My spina bifida was kind to me. Not only could I walk, all my bodily functions were in good working order too. In childhood, I came to know the terminology but it sounded more like a dinosaur than a medical condition to me. So minor were the associated ailments I developed a flippant attitude towards it. My family referred to it as a "twisted spine". I thought my spine resembled a corkscrew and I would grow out of it with each growth spurt I took.
As I moved into my teens I read some encyclopedia entries on spina bifida and realised the scale of the injury and my fortune. I began to imagine it in volcanic terms. My spina bifida was dormant just waiting for it's moment to erupt. I knew it would only be a matter of time but while it 'slept' I didn't feel a need to make any compromises. There was no great inclination for any self-preservation and my parents, perhaps with greater knowledge and against all their instincts, never intervened in my youthful high jinx and over exuberance.
My spina bifida let me away with a lot, the usual slips and falls, a couple over-the-handlebars wipeouts mountain biking, knocked down by a car once, but I managed to pick myself up from them all. I won medals on the football pitch, climbed munro's, got my golf handicap down to 12, walked and cycled miles and miles. I never have broken a bone in my body and to this day I am pain free. Remarkable really. In many ways I can't thank my spina bifida enough!
We were always destined to meet of course. To be fair, I was pushing it getting to the age of 34. My spina bifida decided enough was enough and it was time on that icy morning in Aberdeen in late 2005 for it to finally reveal itself - "I've been expecting you! What took you so long?"
I was never the best walking on ice. My footwear choice was never the best for the conditions. It was only a couple of minutes from my flat to the bus stop. I wasn't even sure if the buses were running. I was ten paces from the bus stop when I slipped. My legs disappeared under my upper body. From the little of my legs I could see my knees and ankles were facing in opposite directions. I braced myself for the pain but there was to be none. Only numb. I was panicking. The early hour and it being a snow day I was the only one on the street. I was opening the shop that morning. I was certain I had broken at least one leg, bracing myself for the pain to hit. Nothing. Numb. I started to rub what I could of my legs.
My senses came to, enough for me to consider crawling to the telephone box which was back the way I had came twenty yards to call for an ambulance and get cover for my seemingly inevitable absence from work. In the end I settled instead on the easier option of the low wall which sat adjacent to the bus stop. I backed up using my hands as leverage while careful not to move my mess of legs.
I managed to perch myself up on the low wall. Still numb. I was roasting hot from the panic and steam was rising from me as I gradually tempered my breathing. I began to vigorously rub my thighs in an attempt to resuscitate them. My legs were still entangled but I began believing that, still without pain, this wasn't as bad as it seemed and I could possibly move them.
My hand cupped under one knee I tentatively made the first movement to adjust my legs back into some semblance of normality. Painless. Both feet were soon planted firmly on terra firma. I rolled up both trousers legs and took off my shoes and socks to check for obvious signs of broken bones. Relieved there appeared to be none, I rubbed all my exposed areas in an attempt to revive them. It seemed to work and this encouraged me enough to attempt to very tentatively extend first one leg then the other. It was partly in disbelief, part on hearing the rev in the distance of the engine of the approaching bus that, senses awakened, I gingerly attempted to stand, and succeed.
I wasn't going down without a fight and I made it to work that day. That afternoon I collapsed on the shop floor from a sharp scratch I felt across my kneecap. None of the drama of the morning but my mobility began to deteriorate rapidly over a number of months. While my GP investigated and I was sent for numerous scans I came regularly to fall over tripping on cracks in the pavement, I couldn't climb steps without the use of a railing and on a couple of occasions I stopped oncoming traffic because I was unable to step up the kerb from the road onto the pavement. To all intents and purposes I looked drunk most of the time. Thankfully, crutches helped tide me over until my date with surgery
My surgery eventually occurred around a year after my original fall which triggered my spina bifida. I put up a brave fight. The night before my surgery I watched every hour pass on the clock on the opposite wall from my hospital bed. My inner monologue with my spina bifida didn't allow me to sleep. "I'll take it from here" he said.
