Everything was going so well… I’d started walking around the flat with no crutches, I’d had a ride on the back of Chris’ Shovel, and I felt comfortable out and about on one crutch. My pain was still constant but more of a dull ache, manageable day-to-day without painkillers.
I moved to Sheffield with my best friend and we have so much around us within a mere 10-minute walk: butchers, cafes, grocery stores, off licences, my new doctors and physio. Loads of stuff!
Having all of that immediately gave me back a small part of my independence and man, it felt amazing! Not having to depend on anyone to take me food shopping or to get out of the flat was a joy in itself.
The first few weeks I was just exploring the area and testing myself to see how far I could walk on my crutches and how long I could be out without getting exhausted.
I must have had the biggest smile on my face, just finding new cafes on Google and then walking there to get a coffee, sending Chris a screen shot of my journey with a crude line drawn on it to show how far I’d walked.
I could browse shops comfortably, walk a good 20 minutes or unaided in the flat. I was getting better and life was returning to some kind of normal, my energy was coming back and I started thinking about getting back on the bike, about our trip, getting on the dirt bikes, flat tracking, dreaming and looking forward to our summer to come…
After a day of walking on one crutch and Chris’ arm for support, I got up the next day feeling good, I grabbed both my crutches to go food shopping. On the way there I got the most horrible pain in my hip joint, like a hot knife, the pain shot from deep in my joint down my leg, and I had to stop for five.
I was like, ‘what the hell was that?’ I thought it was just a trapped nerve or my bone was a little out of socket so I tried to move it around but nothing helped. I managed to get some food as I didn’t have any in at home, so I had no choice even though I was in so much pain. The walk home is only seven minutes or so but it was hell. I must have stopped about five times. It was sickening.
I got home and hardly moved off the couch for the next two days. Any time I did, the same thing happened, my leg buckled underneath me. So I was back again to being completely reliant on the crutches – even in the flat – otherwise I’d just fall.
I cannot explain the effects this had on me mentally… after so much progression and feeling so close to riding again, I was now so down. I didn’t even want to talk about it. I felt miserable as I couldn’t go anywhere, and I didn’t want to do anything. I was done with the week.
Gradually over the following days the pain started easing, and I could get about again. Slowly but surely I managed to get to my first private physio appointment, which itself was very different to what I had in mind.
He didn’t know anything about my case apart from the doctor’s notes he had, so I sat there and explained everything.
He kept saying how lucky I am to be alive, and he was also appalled at the lack of care I’ve had so far – apologetically explaining how this might affect me in the future and how I need to fight for the right compensation.
It was a really heavy conversation, during which I was holding back the tears. I guess he kind of forced me to think about the shit side of all of this, as my attitude had been, ‘shit happens, deal with it’ whilst keeping a positive outlook.
But after the week I’d had, and approaching the 6-month mark – a time I was originally given as ‘full recovery’ but being nowhere near it – I was feeling pissed off.
Suddenly it hit: ‘this isn’t fair! None of this is fair! I didn’t ask for any of this shit.’
I was just merrily on my way to town that morning, and apart from the deafening growl of my Z750, I wasn’t bothering a soul.
Never mind all the shit I’ve been through so far – my life now will not be the same for a long, long time. I can’t go out and dance all night with my best friend, or booze and go to gigs. I can’t go riding, get lost and go for a walk in some wilderness. I have no drive or motivation. The idea of getting back to work makes me want to crawl up in the foetal position. One thing that really hurts me – that I don’t think I could say out loud without breaking into tears and find hard to even write here – is that I haven’t been there for my loved ones. There’s been times since my accident that my friends have needed me and I couldn’t be there. It’s not fucking fair.
It’s been a very tough time. I don’t like focusing on the negatives but in retrospect I feel it was healthy as I had a lot of issues I wasn’t dealing with.
I beat myself up when I can’t do things –I always have. My idea of hell is being a couch potato, but for the past 6 months that has been my life. When I was hurting that was fine, I knew it had to be, but now I’m progressing, if I have a down day when I’m back on the couch I’m finding it increasingly hard to deal with. I want to be up and out, doing something, being productive. At the moment I’ve got to force myself to slow down, but I don’t know how, even though I can no longer live at 100mph. I have to admit defeat. It’s going to take longer than expected and that’s that.
The pain is still there – that sharp, shooting pain. Some days it’s as bad as it was that week, unable to walk unaided. I cant leave the flat, it’s very up and down at the minute.
I had another physio appointment yesterday and also my 6 month check up with the orthopaedic outpatients.
They both said everything is OK, the joint is being aggravated the more exercise I’m doing, causing swelling so those big fucking nerves in there are being squeezed and apparently that’s the pain I’m feeling.
I’ve been given the all clear to go swim and use the cycle machines, there’s not a lot I can do about the pain, but I’ve found my TENS machine works a treat, so I’ve been hooked up to that for the last three days.
I’m back to feeling positive. I’m stoked the pain isn’t anything worse! I have come to terms with the fact this is going to be a much longer journey than first anticipated and I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
However, there’s our trip! It’s not long now at all – we were planning on going the first week of June but at this point I really don’t know if I’ll be well enough for it.
I was pretty devastated at the thought of not going, and when I talked to Chris about it he said don’t worry, we can go in the van or we can go later on in the summer.
It’s been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember and with Chris by my side I know it will happen one way or another, just maybe not when we planned or how we planned it.
Stay tuned I guess, and we’ll try keep you updated.