We were carried by a motorcade of tuk-tuks through the dark, dusty streets of nighttime Delhi on a frightening, fruitless search for a hotel room.
Tag: brachial plexus
Backpacking in India: arriving in Delhi
Carried by a motorcade of tuk-tuks through the dark, dusty streets of Delhi looking for a hotel room. It was like we were caught up in a surreal Nativity Story interpretation. THIS was the adventure we wanted… wasn’t it?
Naked
I’m naked. Well, almost. I’m wearing only a fig leaf. That’s the way it feels sometimes, writing this blog. Looking at my comfort zone through the rear view mirror. I enjoy it. But It’s exposing.
Life with a Brachial Plexus Injury: protecting your good arm
You’re unaware your arm is resting up against a boiling kettle. The skin is burning but you can’t feel it. When and how do you realise? When you smell your skin crisping up like pork crackling?
An Appreciation Of Knees
Knees are important. Yes they spare us the embarrassment of falling over, but ror me, they bring other benefits. Here are 5 reasons why.
My Tacoma Bridge Moment
We ‘upgraded’ to the suburbs when I was 7 years old. The school I left behind was an austere Victorian building with separate entrances for boys and girls.
The uncensored truth about Migraine
It felt like my eyeballs had swollen to the size of cricket balls, being pushed out of their sockets from the inside.
Part 12: Against The Graine.
It felt like my eyeballs had swollen to the size of cricket balls, being pushed out of their sockets from the inside.
Part 11: The Vomit Episode.
I vomited in the bathroom sink before leaving for school. The accident had forced me to drop back a year. Today I joined the new sixth-formers as they began their A levels.
Surviving School
I vomited in the bathroom sink before leaving for school. Nerves. Today I joined the new sixth-formers as they began their A levels.
Part 10: I danced here, wearing a black cape and oversized sombrero
The impact of the collision with the car may have damaged my kidneys.
I’d need an internal examination. I chose not to ask what that involved.
Part 9: Shifted Reality.
Wearing only a paper gown tied at the back, I climbed onto the cold radiography table. I rolled onto my side into the foetal position as instructed.
Part 8: Guilty pleasure.
‘Must feel good to be going home?’ The ambulance driver chatted cheerfully as he wheeled me out through the sliding doors of the hospital.
Part 5: ‘Do you want to see my scars?’
I was part-way through my secondary school exams. The culmination of 2 years of study. My future academic and employment prospects would be determined by the result. That was all gone now.
Part 4: Chicken Fricassee.
The femur (thigh bone) is the largest bone in the human body. It takes 3 months for a broken femur shaft to repair itself. So, regardless of my other injuries, I’d spend 3 months in a hospital bed.
Part 4: Coming to terms with three months in hospital
A broken femur shaft takes 3 months to repair itself. So, regardless of my other injuries, I’d spend at least 3 months in a hospital bed. It was unimaginable.
Part 3: I hadn’t felt the need to go, but I was curious.
After a week in hospital I was moved from a private room to one shared with another patient. A young motorcyclist, recently admitted. He was in pain, groaning constantly.
Part 3: Learning to write again.
After a week in hospital I was moved from a private room to one shared with another patient. A young motorcyclist, recently admitted. He was in pain, groaning constantly.