One morning I got up to find everyone else was asleep in their beds which was not unusual. It was around 10:00 in the morning. I had risen in order to make a tea and take the dog out. That was the plan. I think ir was a Saturday. Its strange but in my head I am clearer about the day of the week than I am about the month and even the year. So anyway I took the dog out for a short walk around our block- about 5 to 10 minutes, depending on sniffs. All normal, all good.
As usual the dog was fine for the start but as we neared home he started to pull in anticipation. This was a pain as it was starting to hurt my arm from straining to hold him in check. This inevitably led to frustration and anger. As soon as I opened the front door I unclipped the lead. He shot up the stairs at speed. In contrast I stumbled back in slow motion, my heel caught the threshold and I tumbled backward on to the concrete steps. There was a hard impact as the back of my head struck the path. Consciousness left me for a period of time. How much time I could not say as I was unconscious. Not any more than seconds or minutes. I was so preoccupied by the fact that from a great height the back of my skull had just hit solid concrete that my thoughts lay elsewhere and time was irrelevant.
I lay there for a while as a sight for passers-by. Yes, you read that correctly. At least twice people walked by to see someone lying prone at the bottom of some concrete steps and either pretended not to see or blatantly did not care. Maybe they thought I was drunk or on drugs or something else. I just don't know. Finally a young boy from next door was putting the bin bags out, saw me and kindly helped me up. He is a teenager. It pisses me off that adults never bothered their arse to help me.
Anyway I ended up in a local hospital for a time to stabilise me. How much time I am unsure. I recieved tailored medication and three meals a day. Then when I was in a better place physically I was carted off to one of Scotland's Super Hospitals: QESH. It was a great place to be in. I was well looked after and I had interactions with lots of people and honestly cannot complain about any of them. On the whole I was mentally fine but there were a few periods where I struggled for a time. That had a knock on affect. I had not experienced high levels of anxiety in a long time and when it inevitably spilled over into panic I had the fear that I was slipping back down into that dark hole again. Thankfully these turned out to be temporary but were not much fun at the time.
They were understandable given my history with panic which started with the closing of train doors and my mind telling me I could not leave. I was stuck in one place that was foreign to me. I had no freedom to move given my lack of mobility. I was in a room with strangers. Even if I wanted to move I physically was unable to due to the panic countered ironically by a lack of mobility. I couldn't walk unaided, My two supports were a walking frame latterly and a wheelchair to begin with. Both of these I still require now and have no idea whether one day I won't need them- I doubt it.
The only two periods I struggled with mentally were the first arrival period at hospital and a few days living in an isolation. I was locked away in a private room after a positive COVID test. He would not budge. Despite the hunger I had to go without dinner. Thankfully when my wife visited later she brought a big bag of crisps and some bars of chocolate. Not a dinner but it kept hunger at bay at least.
So back to the doorstep. I took the dog out for a walk one morning while everyone else slept. All dood apart from the dog pulling as he tends to do. I got in the door to our flat which leads to an internal staircase. The dog had been pulling the whole time while out so i could not wait to get the lead off once inside. That is what I did. My arm was sore from the strain and the relief was bliss.
Until I tumbled backward that is. I reckon I stumbled backward down 6 steps before my heel hit the front door threshold and I went backward into concrete.
So I am in recovery with blister packs of drugs, exercise regimes and visits from all corners of healthcare. Or at least I was. I grew tired of the whole process once I was home. In truth I just wanted to be left alone after a very long spell of attention and following orders. I wanted my freedom back and if it meant cutting off all the "help" then it was a fair trade off in my view. Its my life. So that is what I did. I went it alone much to the annoyance of my GP.
Physically I have not improved and that's on me. That said I spent a long time in hospital doing gym work and felt no benefit. To be honest physically I feel fine but its my balance which is the issue. At home I have to use a zimmer but there have been times when I have abandoned it. And in those times I feel fine and normal until my balance is given a wobble. Its a bit like in the hospital gym where we practised unaided walking between the bars. There though there was a soft landing if required and the hands hovered over the bars just in case.
Anyway that is where I am at just now. I'd like to fresh start here to see where it takes me. Hopefully over time there will be some progress in my mobility. I've rarely been out since coming home last year and on those rare occasions I left my comfort zone it was just to sit on the doorstep on a nice day. The very same doorstep that led me here.
Thankfully anxiety has not been too bad. I had a couple of episodes in the hospital which hit me really hard given I had not experienced it in a long time. The drive home was the worst of it and it brought several instances of panic which really were hard. But all the bad times are hopefully now behind me. I have chosen to recover alone and that is what I plan to do. Hopefully I will have much more positive things to say along the way.
