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 us so long to get acquainted?"
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 usually heard them from my flat but I couldn't say if i'd heard one or not this morning.
My technique for walking on ice was to waddle like a penguin, which latterly the NHS has adopted as official advice. My problem though was that I was always so bloody tense. I always felt it was inevitable I would come a cropper.
I walked slowly but, such was my level of fear, I was sweating from the exertion and my mental anguish. I was overcompensating for every minor inadvertent twitch of the soles of my shoes, exhaling instinctive expletives under my breath and the bust stop was never appearing to be much closer than the last time I looked.
I was ten paces from the bus stop when I heard the revs of a bus behind me, and, distracted, I slipped. My legs seem to disappear entirely from under my prone body. As I regained a little composure after the shock, from the little of my legs I could see, my knees and ankles of each leg were facing in opposite directions. I braced myself for the pain but there was to be none. Only numb. The bus passed, I was staring at the driver but he had only eyes for the slushy road ahead of him.
I was panicking "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God's!". The early hour and it being a snow day I was the only one on the street. I was opening the shop that morning and was ahead of time and the regular morning commute. I was fairly 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.
Following the fear of walking on ice, I was now remarkably calm, despite my grave situation. I had enough presence of mind about 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. I was certain I was a hospital case.
instead I came to realise there was an easier option of dragging myself backwards to the low wall which sat adjacent to the bus stop. I backed up using my hands as leverage while careful not to move my entanglement of legs. They were unrecognisable as legs the shape they were in. I gagged momentarily before deciding I wouldn't look at the mess they were in again for fear of being sick.
I managed somehow to easily perch myself up on the low wall. Still numb. It was the simplest task of the day this far. I was roasting hot from the panic and steam was rising from me and rapidly from my mouth as I gradually sought to temper my breathing. I began a rapid vigorous rubbing of my thighs in an attempt to resuscitate them. My legs were still entangled but I began believing that, still without any pain, this wasn't as bad as it might have seemed moments ago, and that it could be possible to move my legs after all.
My hand instinctively cupped under one knee as I then tentatively made the first movement to adjust my legs back into some semblance of normality. Painless. Both feet I was soon able to plant 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.i rubbed my calfs and shins and was satisfied they were free of damage. Rolling up further my knees seemed fine.
Relieved there appeared to be no fractures, I rubbed all my exposed areas further in an attempt to revive them fully and prolong time before I had to face up to the prospect of the true test of their ability.
Suitably encouraged, I then attempt to very tentatively, extend first one leg then the other. I am almost bubbling tears that I am experiencing none of the pain I have been so tense for. Then partly in disbelief, partly on hearing the rev in the distance of the engine of the approaching bus, I gingerly attempted to stand, and succeed, determined that another bus was simply going to drift by me this morning. I feel like regaling the driver with my trials to get to this point but, instead, I settle for simply muttering my fare. I was sat quietly relieved and in some shock on the journey that I would make 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 and I picked myself up in far more straightforward a fashion, but I immediately related it back to my earlier slip. It was concerning as there was no warning and no time to save myself.
From then, 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, falling on the shop floor in work, 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 on to the kerb from the road to reach the pavement. To all intents and purposes I looked drunk most of the time. It was regularly embarrassing. No one came to my aid. I looked like your typical alky.
Thankfully, I was eventually issued with a set of crutches to help tide me over until my date with surgery. The crutches were very cumbersome and the strength I exerted through my hands was excruciating to the extent they put me off walking anywhere. As for carrying shopping etc, forget it.
My surgery eventually occurred around a year after my original fall which triggered my spina bifida. I put up a brave fight but the surgery was clearly inevitable and necessary.
My spina bifida had announced itself. It had been kinder to me than most living with the condition. It had allowed me years of unhindered and unmitigated life I am eternally grateful for, it gave me unlimited levels of living a normal life to the extent that I didn't consider myself to be disabled.
I had enormous luck on my side. Undoubtedly full of trepidation for what now lay in store, I was nevertheless able to reflect with pride on the miles I had walked, the paths I had cycled, the hills I had climbed and the freedom I had been allowed, despite, or thanks to spina bifida.
I expect I used up my mileage limit when it came time for my spina bifida to tap my shoulder and say "I'll be taking it from here, laddie!"
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