The local paper wrote an interesting article about me last week, prior to my wheeling the Tidworth 3km. Interesting because it covered both my past and my present: the accident itself and its aftermath. The headline on the front page masthead ran "Trader fights back after horrific accident". This raised a surprising discussion with my children. "Horrific? I wouldn't call your accident horrific. That's a word I'd use after someone had lost their legs following an explosion or something".
I know what they mean and their attitude got me wondering. I have in effect lost my legs. The impact of the accident has been horrific. The change is shocking, so much so that when I met an acquaintance who didn't know, she started crying. One friend said it couldn't have been worse if I had died.
So why do I not think my accident was horrific? Is it to do with the way I look? If I'm sitting on the sofa, I look more or less exactly as I used to. Because of the FES, my legs are still strong. My chest and arms are bigger. But I have no visible scars. My brain hasn't been affected. My speech is unaltered. Yet I'm paralysed. I will probably never walk again. I have no sensation or function below my arms. Why is that not horrific?
Or is it because I'm relatively independent? I don't have a carer. I can drive and cook and swim and look after my children alone. I can push myself around. I don't need help eating or dressing. Yes, life is harder than it used to be but I don't feel incapacitated by my injury. I don't feel disabled.
I think I've gone too far the other way: I've denied the reality of what's happened. I focus on how I'm essentially the same person. And in some ways, I think the children have adopted the same view. I'm wondering if we've all been ignoring the elephant in the room. Whilst in many ways, my life is good, my life is different now. It's time to start accepting it was a horrific accident.
