I’m a Runner

As the time draws nearer to the anniversary of that day the same feelings return to the pit of my stomach. It’s peculiar as I don’t so much think about the actual accident itself, the memories that shadow my thoughts now are of the days after. The look on friends and families faces when they came to visit, the fear in my sons’ eyes, the inability to scoop them up and cuddle them and promise that it would all be ok. Will the memories ever fade? Will I ever get to a point that the day will pass and I won’t remember? The boys have no recollection of the aftermath of Mummy living in the front room or of Nicholas (the cage), Charleigh’s memories have become faded with time, for these facts I am grateful as their minds are so young and pure and I don’t want them filled with bad, only the good.

I sometimes think that only I will ever remember the true moments from that time. Perhaps a little part of me will always be filled with it, but I will learn to keep that door closed.

I am determined to use this frustrated energy though and put it to good and not let is turn into a wasted emotion. I think we are all capable of directing our emotions onto a path of our own choosing. Our destiny is ours to make of what we will.

It is true that that time is a healer and despite the door to the dark side being slightly ajar at present, I can see the positives that have come out of something awful and I will try and focus on those.

The main positive being my desire to run. My training is well under way for the half marathon madness that I signed up for! I am stronger, physically and mentally, than I ever thought possible. I am learning to push myself to limits I once only ever thought would be out of reach.
These legs, despite the lumps, bumps and metal, are doing me proud.
James and I took part in the London Winter 10km run last weekend as part of my training plan. Surrounded by the beautiful sights of London down at South Bank, polar bears offering hugs (I kid you not) and the cold, cold air, we set off. I wanted to complete it in 55 minutes – a target that meant I had to push myself harder than ever before. At 5km the cold was hurting, at 7km I wasn’t even convinced I would finish the course and a 9km I knew I wouldn’t stop. With the encouragement of James next to me, my amazing trainer’s (the actual person, not my footwear!) voice in my head ‘think results’ and with a deep determination I didn’t even realise I had,  I completed it in 54:40.
I shed tears of absolute happiness at the end and traveled home on a cloud of delight (with a well-earned Costa Coffee in hand!). I do have a confession though, at the end of the 10km a realisation hit me that when it came to the half marathon I would in theory have to run that again. To say I was a little struck by fear would be an accurate description. How on earth am I ever going to run 13 miles? Although this time last year I wouldn’t have even been able to run 5km let alone 10km so things can only get better. I won’t use the work ‘easier’ as there is nothing easy about this. My legs are not what they were, there is weakness and metal that aggravates – but they are the only ones I have so I can either give in to ache, or fight and work against in the desire to succeed. (medical disclaimer : I am not doing anything that will cause me injury, if at any point there was pain other than that caused by hard work I wouldn’t push it, I am being sensible)

So happy! x

So happy! x

Well earned sit down :)

Well earned sit down 🙂

Told you ;)

Told you 😉

I am lucky to have had people come into my life because of this journey, some of whom I wouldn’t have got through some very dark days without. The internet gets bad press but without it I wouldn’t have found support in strangers when I most needed to connect with someone who knew exactly what I was going through. I know I have mentioned it in a previous blog but I would have been lost without the people I talked to who had the Ilizarov frame at the same time as me. From the USA, South Africa, UK – you helped me when I felt alone, angry, fearful, sad …. I am looking forward to meeting up with (some of) the Ilizarov Forum crew this weekend – you guys all rock!

Sometimes I forget that that there are actually people out there reading this. This is just my little therapeutic bubble, so I am still a little shocked when I get a response from someone other than friends or family. I received a lovely email recently from a lady who is on her own journey and facing battles that I only know too well.

To think that my words and my journey may help someone just a little is truly overwhelming.

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A Year Comes And Goes

I have been trying to write this post for a while now but the right words have been hard to come by. 

Sunday 12th May saw the one year anniversary of the day my life took an unexpected turn down a rather long and often scary road. But travel on the road I did and through the tears, the pain, the anger and the frustration I got to the end. I would never have been able to do it without the love and support (and now and then a few stern words!) of my friends and family. I’ve said it in previous posts but it is so true. It is amazing how something horrific can bring people closer together.

It’s quite amazing that is has been a year. 

Getting this blog finished today I have been watching the opening day of Wimbledon. It’s hard to believe that this time last year I was watching from my bed, unable to walk with two broken legs. 
The actually anniversary was a bizarre day. Leading up to it I was more anxious about how it would make me feel than actually being anxious about it. Does that even make sense? I’m not sure if I was expecting to break down and cry, sit in a trance, scream with anger. As it happens I did none of those things. I tried to keep myself busy but I was taken over by the need to clock watch and mentally recall events of the same time a year previous. When I got to my Mum’s to pick the children up, when I got to Sainsbury’s, when I was run over, when I got to the hospital and so forth. However, shockingly, I didn’t really feel anything. It was all very surreal, like reliving a dream and wondering if what you are recalling is actually reality.
The memories are still very real in my head, there is no escaping them, but they aren’t painful anymore. Gradually they are becoming my past and not the life that I am living every day. 

The physical reminders however have been a little harder. 
As well as May being the one year anniversary it was also the time for us to finally embark on our family holiday to Egypt along with our friends. (For those that know me, you would have been witness to the countdown for approximately 5 months!)
It was a holiday that we very much needed and definitely deserved. Summer clothes were packed, the sun lotion was ready, the passports and tickets all in order. So why was I apprehensive about two weeks that I had been looking forward to for over five months?
The reason would be the scars on my legs. 
I’m not a vain person, my body is not a temple. It is a portrait of having carried and given birth to three children (two at the same time I may add). However the scars on my legs caused me to feel nervous of my appearance. And in all honesty I feel ashamed to even feel that way about them as in all honesty they aren’t huge or garish, but to me that’s all you can see. 
It would seem that I needed have worried. Out I went in my bikini showing the world my motherly lumps and bumps and it turns out that not one person was interested in me or my legs! The holiday was the best ever!

As for the further surgery to my left leg, I cancelled it. I have decided that for now I have faced as much of the hospital as I can bear and mentally I am in a good place. My surgeon has agreed that I can book it when when I feel it is needed and I am ready.

For now I am enjoying my legs and the adventures that they are taking me on with my beautiful family.

Maybe it is true after all …. time is a healer. 

 

 

Panic, Fear & Tears

Today has been a dark day. Even though I tried my hardest to stay positive yesterday and fight the dread seeping in I just wasn’t strong enough.

Sleep was restless for me last night and the agitation from yesterday was ever increased. I had no desire to leave my bed and I certainly didn’t want to get dressed or face the world. I have never been more grateful for the children not being around this weekend as I hate them seeing me lose control and could feel that today was not going to be pretty.
James insisted that I should come downstairs and at least sit in the garden as the sun was shining and I need the Vitamin D! Begrudgingly I made my way down, knowing that he was right, however the closer to the bottom I was, the heavier my heart felt. Once outside not even the wonderful sunshine could brighten my feelings. I sat and cried tears of sheer frustration. I know I have come such a long way in six weeks, so why doesn’t that knowledge bring with it some peace of mind about the rest of this journey? Instead, I cannot help but feel each second of each day tick by painfully slowly. I feel so scared about how I am supposed to get through the remaining ten weeks. I am trying to just deal with one day at a time and not look that far ahead, but even still, on days like today I struggle with the thought of even the next few hours. I just want it to be over so desperately. This cage feels like a method of torture for something that I wasn’t able to avoid, even though I know it is actually working a miracle on my bones.

So no, today has not been good. I have not been able to get comfortable anywhere, anyhow, I have cried too many tears.
But as always my James has been there at my side as strong as ever. Calming me to keep the rising panic at bay, saying all of the right things at the right time, cuddles aplenty.
I try not to give in to the panic as it’s so hard to come back from when it has it’s claws sunk in deep.

James and I were supposed to be going out for dinner tonight but I just cannot bring myself to do it. The thought of having to leave the house and be surrounded by people terrifies me today. I need the protection of these walls, separating me from the world, and to feel safe despite the dread that is running through my body tonight.

Tonight I would happily sacrifice the sleep to just feel comfortable and at peace, maybe then tomorrow things will seem brighter. I hope so.

The Bad Turns Good

The stairs are continuing to be successful. I had a wonderful sleep last night, without medication which I am so pleased about. Being in my own bed has helped immensely I think, just being in the ‘normal’ place for sleeping brings about a natural calmness. It was a relatively peaceful night too.

Unfortunately my peaceful night didn’t extend into today. I have been extremely fractious and unable to get into any comfortable position. I have wanted to attack James’ tool box and use his pliers to rip the hunk of metal off of my leg. It feels as though it is suffocating me. A few weeks ago these feelings would have undoubtedly turned into a panic attack, a manic frenzy to gain control. Yet today I was able to take control. I didn’t fall apart.

When I feel like this I get really angry and it makes me helplessly bring mack memories into my mind that I would rather forget. I want to go to her house and yell and scream at her. She should be the one to feel my wrath, not my family. She should be the one to hear of the fear I felt when she left me there, hurt, scared and alone. She should be the one to see my anger and upset now, hear of my sleepless nights, of the tears of frustration.
However that will not happen. I have to have faith in the powers that be that karma, and the legal system, will do what it needs to do.
In the mean time I will continue to lean on those holding me up.

But, despite today’s multitude of mental and physical frustrations I am still able to embrace a positive.
Today was the boys last day in their room at nursery, as of next week they move up to the 2-3 year olds. My little men are growing up so fast. So, I wanted to go with James to pick them up to thank their key worker and give a small gift. I managed to walk, with zimmerman, from the car, into nursery and back again. I am unsure of the exact distance but it is by far the furthest I have walked like this. The boys’ little faces just lit up when I walked into their room, oh god my heart melted and I fell in love with them all over again!

Now my Mum is back for the weekend, James is making pizza, I have a cold glass of Pinot Grigio and I am going to look forward to another peaceful night in my own bed.