One foot forward

I don’t know why I am writing these words here and now, as I am currently stuck in bed for the third day on the trot with a dodgy brain that has given me severe diarrhoea, every hour to be precise (cue vaseline advert for sore bum).

Maybe it’s because I have been in bed on my own that I’ve had time to think: a dangerous past time. I know it’s not just because of the difficulty I am having coming up with a topic for my university assignment, or the thousand other things my brain struggles to deal with on a daily basis that I am writing these words. Maybe it’s guilt. No: maybe it’s just honesty.

I’m guilty of being a lousy husband for one thing. I can deal with all the stupid mistakes I make on a daily basis, most of which is around memory and articulation, being inappropriate  and pathetic stamina levels. But I can’t deal with the husband thing, not when you love someone as much as I love Dani.

I’ve been through stages of trying not to love her. I’ve tried to push it all to the back of my mind, hence the reason I am here in bed right now I reckon. Not being able to forget or forgive, holding grudges, not knowing how to be empathic and understanding all take their toll on a relationship. So being a man, what do I do? I bury my head under the sand.

There’s no doubt I am different I know that. I dislike the new Mikey. Actually, I fucking hate him. He’s ugly, emotionless and hurtful. You don’t know the half of it. I don’t want you to.

But I don’t feel like that

It’s weird, I can’t help it. I’m trapped inside the body of a twat, in all honesty. How the heckles am I supposed to know who I am?

You don’t know me. Everything I do is an act. It’s what I want you to see. I have felt deeply inadequate since my injury, so I do things to lessen these feelings. It’s probably the reason I’m so obsessed with bodybuilding, trying to achieve a big physical presence because my emotional one is severely lacking. It’s largely the reason I’m so jovial and clown-like at university, trying to adopt a ‘careless’, jack the lad attitude that if I try long enough to maintain I might start to believe.

You can’t lie to yourself though. 

For one thing, I tried to push Dani’s mum to the back of the cue. We used to be extremely close, before Mexico. Then many brain injury related actions of mine (which I take full responsibility for) meant that we no longer spoke and barely communicated. Who am I fooling, it was me that kept it like that, not her. she tried her best for years to do everything for me to support my brain injury symptoms. I recently read the list of books she had kept a record of reading, to find many that were to do with brain injury were there. I know she tried everything, it was “me” that didn’t want it.

And now its too late

I don’t ask forgiveness for anything in my life. Especially after the injury, as I am now about as screwed up emotionally as one can get. I only apologise for things that I feel deserve me saying so.

Maybe, after all this passion and determination for my ambition to be a nurse, that is the answer I am looking for. If I become a nurse and look after sick kids, maybe it will atone for the many shortcomings of my personality traits.

I remember staring up at the ceiling in Mexico, with all the stinky BO ridden doctors running around me fighting to save my life, thinking that being resuscitated and intubated is hell. It CANT get worse than this.

Well it can and it does. On a daily basis.

I once read in a book that “brain injury is the worse physical injury that can happen to an individual. It changes their life, their personality and the way they are. The person dies from the inside on that day.

When I recover from this bout of sickness my BI has gifted me, just like so many others before, the only thing for it is to keep on keeping on. It’s either that or quit.

I have a few impossible tasks ahead of me. I was looking forward to a holiday in Tenerife that was due to be next month, until we had to cancel it because I had totally forgotten about my drugs calculation exam I had in the same week. Cheers BI, thats one point to you!

You can’t imagine what this is like.

I’m not looking for sympathy because I hate doing that, its not my bag. When you are someone that has only ever wanted to make people happy and love the ones closest to you, and then one day you wake up to find you only do the exact opposite, it makes you want to start to write a blog about it.

All I think of now when I’m getting ready for placement in hospital, is how will I cope? What can I do to get through the day? How can I prepare? What plans are in place if it goes tits up? Will I might have to do part time work instead?

Writing about it won’t change anything, but maybe it needs to be done, or maybe not: My judgement is flawed. I’ll just carry on fooling everyone around me until I become a qualified nurse, fool them into believing I’m something I’m not, maybe fooling myself: we shall see.

No matter what has come and gone in your life, no matter what feelings it gave or continues to torment you with, the only thing you or I  can physically do is put one foot forward in front of the other, and keep smiling, That should fool people enough. And also to hope I become a better person, too. That’s my ultimate wish/goal. Being a nurse is second to that.

I’ll finish with this: Believe it or not, I always wanted Julie and the world to see me achieve my aspirations with what I want to do in the NHS. I fantasised about it for years. Instead, all those hours I spent fantasising have meant nothing. I ended up doing the exact opposite. And now Im only a quarter of the person I was before. So what shall I do? The same thing I’ve been doing for three years:

Putting one foot in front of the other, smiling, and saying f**** it.

Hopefully no one will notice that it’s actually rather soul destroying having to put up with being only an eighth of the man I was prior to April 5th 2012.

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