Taste

  

Scrambled eggs on toast. A staple of mine for so long but now a no go area. The body is a a strange thing sometimes. It is without any doubt incredible but like all things can be open to failures or at least strange activities. In particular here I am referencing the brain more than its outer shell. Since my fall I have come to expect and accept a lot of different things. Headaches out of the blue for one which is unsurprising, even now, given I had a head injury. There are other things connected to it too. I have to keep tissues at hand at all times because randomly my nose will just start to bleed. Despite there being nothing wrong with my body I still struggle to get off the coach and when on my feet I need the aid of a zimmer to move about in case I fall and do further damage. Despite knowing that and despite being given the tools to prevent that I still have had a few falls when frustration have gotten the better of me and I have attempted to traverse a room unaided. Its always the same. I start off well if unbalanced and no matter how well I do inevitably I end up in a crumpled heap on the floor. Thankfully so far I have not done any damage to myself or my property. I will never learn. Even going right back to the early days in hospital where a furious nurse had to help me up from under a bed I had fallen under bizarrely while attempting to get to the toilet unaided-we were instructed not to leave bed without informing someone to supervise and there really was no excuse given we all had a button to get the staff's attention.

Once again I am off on a tangent. What I was hoping to lead into was how a blow to the head has somehow affected my taste. I find that since my fall I have been getting easily frustrated and this is another example here. I am not bothered that something strange has happened to my taste. I am working around it and learning what I can eat and what I cannot. In truth I would say at least 90% of my taste is still OK. Probably a lot higher. Its all trial and error. Bread based products are my biggest problem. Not only do I have a problem with taste but I also get an uncomfortable burning lump in my throat which lasts a good while.

As I said I can work around these things but remain frustrated by the lack of information I was given. Just having some answers would have been nice about whether it was common, would it be permanent, why did a head injury cause it and a few other things. As it is I am left guessing but still wise enough to know not to take my curiosity to Google. 

Its not a big deal I suppose when you look at it. Its relearning what I can and can't eat which is hardly a cause to complain. It is a small issue in comparison to what some people have to endure so I will note it but not complain- or try not to at least.

It is fast approaching a year since I was discharged with the hope of continuing my recovery back to to full physical and mental wealth. That has totally ploughed into the buffers and that is all on me. So many people have played their part in picking me up back to my feet and aiding me on my journey forward again. As soon as I was alone though I just sat down because it was easier and I am still sitting there. Its not a good admission but if I am too move on then I need to be honest and try to improve. That is my intention. There really is no excuse. I can walk with the zimmer so need to start doing it. I am also taking up a wheelchair which someone else could be using. Hopefully by the end of this year there will be progress. If not then its on me and I cannot complain about anyone else.

Stupidity

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 the first hospital and a few days living in an isolation room in the second. The first time I had a private room while I waited for a free bed. It sounds great but for me it was difficult. I am not sure why that was the case as I spent a number of years living alone in a place foreign to me without any problem. In the second hospital I was locked away in a private room after a positive COVID test for 3-4 days. Despite the result of the swab I felt no symptoms and displayed no symptoms but I guess they have to err on the side of caution. Lying alone all day in bed was mental torture. 

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 who called me wanting to know why I had "given up". That iritated me more than a little.

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. In that gym 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 a 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. Having a panic attack in a mini-bus full of strangers was no fun at all. It really hit hard. Especially when we were sitting for long spells static in rush hour. 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.