Five Little Words

Part 10

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......?

*****

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.

*****

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.