Vomcano

"On no, please can I have a sick bag?"
"Yup, just hold on...one second...hang on...here we go"
"Thanks...bluuuuuuuurgh bluuuuurgh bluuuuuuuurgh bluuuuuurgh...blurghblurgh...blurgh. Right, anyway, where were we?"

I was getting pretty good at the old tactile voms. And also used to talking about poo and being naked in front of people (gosh I do make hospital sound like bags of fun). I was having my shower assessment done by my Occupational Therapist, lets call her K. She chatted away merrily as I attempted to scrub my body with my T-Rex arms, sitting in the shower chair and occasionally throwing up. Squeezing bottles was ridiculously hard at that early stage, but I surprised myself at how much I could do. I could even hold on to the shower head and spray down towards my numb little toes, un-moving and pale below me.

The aim of Occupational Therapy (OT) is to get people back into being independent, doing normal things even if it was eating with built up cutlery or making themselves a cup of tea. During my shower assessment K explained to me that it was easy to get the nurses to just wash me, because I was so exhausted and everything took so long, but every day I had to try. There were few victories those first few weeks, but as time progressed the small things started coming back. Oh, it was a proud, proud day when I could open the cap on my toothpaste.

In physiotherapy I was doing some basic exercises in the gym, with assistance. A simple task like pulling my knee into a bending position required a physio to support my ankle with one hand, and slowly ease up my knee with the other hand whilst I tried as hard as I could. It's bizarre really; I would look at my legs and try so so so hard to bend and move them, but it just wasn't happening. However, with the physio support I could feel my muscles screaming and trying their best to do their job. By doing sets of ten for each exercise, and building up by ten each day, I would eventually gain control back. And I say eventually.

My notes for week three go like this: -

'Sets of ten in gym with help. Pain. No movement. Shower assessment. Fucking hoist.'

I think the starkness of these notes are self explanatory. I tried to take strength from the other people in the gym (I won't name names), but there were people who had had amputations, strokes, brain hemorrhages, car accidents, diving accidents and other strange neurological diseases. It sounds terrible to say, but at least I knew I was going to get better. People, going through much worse than I, who had been there longer than me, would still stop and smile and say hello.

I think it comes down to one thing, one human trait that we all have. People have said to me I have been brave, that they couldn't have gone through what I've been through. Truth be told, I cried every day. For weeks. I still cry now for goodness sake! But you know what? In the words of Regina Spektor, "People are just people like you".

And you just get on with it.