Day 1 of rehab: Monday 14th May 2019.
Mart got me this little book to write all my thoughts and stuff down in. I suppose I only agreed to do it because it gives me something to do. It gets pretty boring when I'm not doing exercises or visiting the specialist or doing whatever it is you're supposed to do when you're in a place like this.
God, it hasn't even been a day and I'm already going mad!
I have to say I'm glad that Mam, Martin and Cam are here with me. Without them, I probably would have tried to kill someone (probably the nurses), and - to be honest - I enjoy the company.
But when they go back to the apartment they're all staying in, and I'm alone again, I can't help but remember exactly where I am and why I'm here.
Oh God, why the hell was I so stupid?! I should have been looking where I was going, I should have made sure I could actually make that jump.
Should have, could have, would have, but didn't. That just about sums up this whole sorry story. And I'm awfully sorry if I'm boring you - whoever is reading this, I just hope you're doing it because I've said you could - but I just can't get those thoughts out of my head.
Everyone has been constantly telling me that it wasn't my fault, and I've tried so hard to believe them, but I have a horrible guilt complex - and if I'm ever going to be reminded of that, it's now.
I reckon there's going to be quite a bit of that throughout this little journal of mine, I just hope that no one ever actually reads this. Jeez, I hope that when I read this in a month or so, that I'll just look at the pages and think 'What the hell were you thinking, man?!'
Wouldn't that be nice......?
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Day 1 continued:
It's evening now, and I've just come back from my first meeting with my new physio. I do like him - he seems calm, definitely friendly enough, and he clearly knows his stuff (and if he can put up with me for the foreseeable future, then he truly is a saint).
It went okay, I guess - was mostly just him asking me about how I got injured, and what meds I'd been on, all that sort of stuff. He said he wants to get me started on some basic strengthening exercises for my arms and chest, and then we'll go from there.
I asked him if being able to do these quicker would mean I could get better faster. He didn't answer.
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Day 4 of rehab: Thursday 18th May 2019.
Physio is really tiring me out, haven't really had time or energy to do any writing for the past few days, but feeling a bit ill this morning, so had to miss a session.
Well, when I say "ill", I guess you could say just "depressed".
There. I said it. I am depressed.
Although, can you really blame us? I mean, really?
I haven't told anyone about how I feel, but I know they can see it. I know they're getting worried again, cause I'm off my food still - but I just haven't felt like eating. I tell them it's because I haven't really worked up enough of an appetite to eat, but it's really just because I'm starting to get more and more disheartened as each day goes on and I don't feel any better.
Sure, my arms and chest and core strength are slowly (like, so slowly) building back up again, but there's still nothing in my legs. I can't even feel the blankets on top of them right now, let alone the nurses when they come in and do their daily sensation tests.
I know Karen told us it will take some time, but as that time goes on, the more convinced I become that I'm just not going to get better. That I'm going to be half-paralysed for the rest of my life.
(A smudge stains the paper here).
Sorry, didn't mean to let that one get on there. You can see why I'm so miserable though, can't you?
It's the one thing that's still absolutely terrifying to me about this whole situation. More than when I found out I'd actually broken my neck; more even than lying on the mats back at the studio and not being able to breathe. I just hate this whole, wretched situation.
Does that sound selfish?
I mean, there are so many people that deal with this for real, and they just continue on with their lives - some of them even use it to their advantage! But here I am, moping and sulking because I'm taking a bit too long to start feeling.....well.....anything really.....
Oh, hang on, I think the lunch-lady's making her rounds; probably going to have to convince her that I'm still not hungry. Maybe if I pretend I'm asleep then she won't bother us......
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Day 5 of rehab: Friday 19th May 2019.
Before you ask: no, it didn't work......
Mam and Ali have clearly been onto the staff here, they're all so insistent that I eat something, and to be honest, I'm too tired to fight with them now.
Physio really took it out of me this morning: physically and emotionally. Trent - my physio guy - suggested that I could maybe try some little leg exercises to help encourage the feeling and strength to come back to them. And of course, me being me, I got so excited and thought that if I did this, then all would suddenly be right again.
Of course, it wasn't, and it all just kind of hit us again.
I feel sorry for Trent though - he had to go and change into a dry shirt......
Anyway, first hydrotherapy session tomorrow - perhaps we'll have some better luck there.
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Day 7 of rehab: Sunday 21st May 2019.
Ali was finally able to come up for a visit today. That cheered us up a lot - I have missed her something awful.
She's been so understanding throughout this whole ordeal, lasting all of two weeks so far, and I think I'll always be grateful to her.
She is worried though, I can tell when she looks at me. She sees how thin I am, and I know she can see I'm absolutely miserable, but yet she's still trying to encourage me and keep my spirits up.
I think it helps her too, because since we became an item - and more so after we got married - we've hardly been apart for too long, and it never does either of us any good. I think she likes being in control and feeling like she is doing something, so having her here - even if she is just nagging me to eat or teasing me about how much I need a shave - is good for the both of us.
Sadly, she had to go back to London this afternoon, and Cam took Mam out for dinner at a local restaurant (apparently highly recommended by Hilary, my nurse), while Mart stayed here with me.
And I will openly admit to trying the whole 'pretend you're asleep so that no one disturbs you' trick on him, in the hopes that he would leave us alone for a while.
And - of course, knowing my luck lately - he didn't buy it, and he did give me quite a stern telling off about it-
"Alright, kidlet: that does it!"
Dec's eyes slitted open and he shot a slightly nervous glance over at his older brother.
Martin was on his feet, arms folded across his chest and staring back down at him with a fierce concern and frustration in his eyes.
"This has to stop: you can't expect to make us believe that everything's fine and dandy with you when you're barely thicker than a candlestick at the moment. I can't let you continue on like this; if you're still that upset, then talk to us, kiddo. But please don't bottle it up inside like you're so clearly doing - it's not going to do you any good!"
I'm mildly ashamed that I did two things here. One, I started to cry - quite forcibly, I might add - and two, I started shouting right back at him.
"What the fuck do you want me to say, Mart?!" Dec shouted back, eyes brimming with tears and voice trembling with repressed emotion. "You want me to tell you I'm scared? That I'm angry - no, absolutely furious - with myself for getting into this mess? That I'm still not convinced that this wasn't my fault? Do you want me to spell all that out for you? Well, there: I just did. And there wasn't anything you haven't heard before, so why the fuck do you still bother asking?!"
Martin's arms dropped down to his sides, eyes turning shocked and saddened as his little brother's thoughts poured out in front of him.
"If I tell you I'm terrified of the fact that it's been two weeks and I still can't move or feel my damn legs, then it's nothing really new. If I tell you that I'm frustrated at the fact that there is nothing I can do to change this stupid situation I put myself in, then you and I both know that I'm just repeating myself."
Martin stayed silent, letting his brother rant and shout as much as he needed to, because he had the sneaking suspicion that this is what he'd needed all along.
"If I tell you that I'm scared that this is how I'm going to be....f-f-for th-the r-rest of......"
Hearing his voice break and the painful sobs clawing out of his brother's throat, Martin quickly crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, wordlessly pulling his baby brother's trembling form into the warmth and comfort of his arms.
At first, Dec tried to pull himself away, anger still surging through him, but Martin's arms were so gentle and comforting, an open invite to finally let all of his pent-up emotions loose.
"No don't do that" Martin scolded softly above his head, tightening his hold as his little brother tried to escape. "Come here and stop being so silly - I've got you now, and I'm not going anywhere until we've sorted this out once and for all."
As soon as I heard that, I really lost it - I don't think I've cried that much since Dad died. But oh, it felt so good to finally let it all go.
Obeying his older brother's request, the fragile hold on Dec's emotions finally burst open and all of his guilt, frustration, rage, loneliness, fear, and hopelessness poured out of his tiny body in the form of heart-wrenching shouts and wails.
Martin held him close the whole time, not daring to try and hush him, and started gently running his fingers through the lank and tousled hair under his cheek.
"Shh, easy kidlet, I've got you now" he soothed, rocking them from side to side as his brother's sobs continued.
I cried for a good ten or fifteen minutes, and I was absolutely exhausted by the end. Martin helped me clean up my face, and then he just sat with me in silence, listening to me rant and just being there for me. I did cry a few more times throughout this, but he always just rubbed my arm and handed me a tissue when I was done.
When I was finished, I felt a bit better at least (so all of that had been worth something), and I started to fall asleep in Mart's arms. He let me stay there, and he started singing my favourite lullaby to help me go to sleep.
As he laid me back onto the bed, I felt him kiss my forehead and whisper "Goodnight, my kidlet" before he tiptoed out of the room.
*****
Day 10 of rehab: Wednesday 24th May 2019.
Ant's been meaning to visit for a while, but he's had an awful lot to deal with - what with the postponing (and I think cancellation) of the rest of this series of Saturday Night Takeaway, dealing with the press attention we're still getting, and also preparing for the semi-finals of Britain's Got Talent (which started on Monday).
I understand why he can't be here, but that doesn't make it any less hard to be separated. Sure, I get what you're probably saying right now: "But he's an hour away in London, and he doesn't have time to come up here to visit!"
Well, you can just shut your pie-holes, because I kinda know that already.....
It's just that, see normally when he and I are forced to be apart, we still call and text each other fairly constantly, so we never go for more than a few days without hearing from the other.
But I haven't seen or heard from him since I've been here, and I'm starting to get lonely.
Aaaand, I can hear you going off again - "But you've got your mam and brother and sister there, surely you can't be lonely!"
And again, you can all shut your faces: I know that, and I still really appreciate their company, nothing's changed about that.
It's just......well.....Ant's my best mate, and we've been through everything together. So it just seems wrong that he's not here, or at least that he's gone so long without making contact - even just a quick phone call to see how things are going.
I did get to watch the first two semi-finals of BGT, and I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I'm a bit jealous, seeing Stephen up there with him.
Don't get me wrong: I love the guy, and he's a great friend and a fantastic presenter. It's just that he's up there where I should be, doing what I should be doing, with my best friend.
Ah, who am I kidding? I think I'd rather that Stephen was there than Ant be all on his own - we know that he never takes well to that.
Anyway, better go - I think Trent is on his way for another physio session, so hopefully I'll have more news to share later.
*****
Day 14 of rehab: Sunday 28th May 2019.
Oh: let this day go down in the history books, let everyone sing and rejoice the glorious events that have occurred on this day!
No, I'm not celebrating Easter late (I'll have you know I take offence to you thinking that....)
But I can finally feel my legs again! Hooray!
Sorry, you'll have to forgive me for getting too excited there - been waiting for this moment for so damn long and now that it's finally here, I'm almost too excited to get these thoughts down.
Trent is really pleased with my progress so far, and he says that hopefully tomorrow, I can start trying to stand up on my own (with the help of balancing poles of course!)
Ah, I'm just so happy now, I feel like I could celebrate with a good old fashioned pint! Only trouble is, they don't let you have alcohol in here......shame.....
Also, Ant texted Martin this morning, and he said he's going to come up tomorrow for a visit. Can this day get any better?!
*****
Day 15 of rehab: Monday 25th May 2019.
So, you remember how happy I was yesterday? How excited, how ecstatic I was?
Yeah, I wish I could go back to that......
I got a call from Ant this morning, and he said he couldn't come up because he'd come down with the flu after the BGT final yesterday and he's virtually in a permanent horizontal position for the next few days.
I tried not to be too disappointed, but I think he still picked up on it, and I feel horrible for doing that - for making him feel worse because he couldn't come up and see me.
Urgh, why am I so bloody selfish sometimes?
Anyway, Martin promised that he had something that would help cheer me up, but I'm not quite sure what that is just yet. He told me I had to wait until this afternoon after my physio to find out, and - if I can be brutally honest with you - I'm not sure I'm looking forward to what he has planned.......
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TBC......
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