Many thanks to those of you who expressed concern after my bad
backwards falling off at the BJC 3 weeks ago. A few people have even
E-mailed me for progress reports since the accident. ( also had a mail from
one person who apologized for not helping me back to the tent after seeing
my return by taxi from the hospital at 5.30 AM. He was convinced that I was
crawling through the wet grass because of a drunken state, rather than an
inability to walk.)
The trip to A & E X-ray department showed a lack of breaks,
although the pain involved seemed to suggest they might easily have been
wrong. But progress has been steady and I got back on the uni this week for
the first time, and rode up and down the gym floor. Leg wounds have all
healed up nicely. Still some minor discomfort in the back, and a wrist that
finds juggling rather painful even now. But all looks as if it will be OK
in the near future. But for your amusement I will tell of the Monday
morning…early. Try not to picture it too graphically.
On the Sunday, the last day of the convention, after the drive back up
the motorway I arrived back in Manchester to considerably less sympathy that
I thought I deserved, and as bedtime approached, the stairs started to take
on the look of the North face of the Eiger. So I took the easy way out and
decided to sleep on the sofa. Downstairs, in the lounge, no need to bend
down to try and get the jeans off. Sofa so good.
It was in the early hours of the morning that the discomfort started to
grow, but I hung on for another 30 minutes or so, knowing that to try and
attain the necessary vertical position would incur my going several notches
beyond my maximum pain threshold. After those 30 minutes though, there was
no choice left. I struggled through the intense agony, into a standing
position, and then, in really great pain, I started to walk slowly towards
the downstairs loo. I made it out of the lounge, the hallway became a
journey of some note, several times its actual measured length I am sure,
and then on into the kitchen…where someone, some evil inconsiderate
brute, had left a tap dripping. Being only halfway to my destination,
and totally unable to cross my legs because of the pain, I knew I was not
going to make it. Casting around, my gaze lit upon a plastic lid type
receptacle on the draining board, and I grabbed it urgently for a purpose
that its designers had clearly not anticipated. Ahhh the relief, so good I
almost forgot the back pain…for a minute or two it was heaven. I then
noticed the kitchen floor looking very wet, the damned lid had two steam
escape holes in it, and a copious volume of fluid was making full use of
these holes, and with the help of someone’s nth law of gravity, was adding
considerably to my nightmare. You may imagine that cleaning the mess
up in my state of health, the bending down, trips back and forth, back
killing me, did not help my usual calm temper at all. That was probably
the low spot of the weekend, although the seemingly adventurous
negotiation of sleeping policemen by ambulancemen who seemed to have been
inspired by Kris and Will, came a very close second.
And I still have no idea why I fell off, whilst just riding slowly
forwards. I was well within even my lowly capabilities.
See you all soon , probably at the next Kidders meet.
John (alias Zyllan’s Dad)
