Bouncing Back

Monday, 29 November, 2010 started out as a very good day. It was fine and sunny and I was driving to our state capital to meet my older son - Mr Twenty-Six - who was flying in from Sydney. I was wearing a suit and tie as I had an important business engagement en route. I can recall getting ready but I can't really remember leaving the house. My next recollection is of waking up and realising I was in a hospital and surrounded by people in masks and gowns. On the outskirts of this memory is my son who had somehow materialised out of nowhere as a pale and anxious spectator.

As I was later to discover, I had been in a car accident shortly after leaving my house. The only witness was a man driving in the opposite direction to me. Apparently, a few kangaroos had bounded directly into my path and I had swerved to avoid hitting them, only to lose control of my car in the soft gravel shoulder of the road. I was not speeding but it is a 110 kph zone and so my car skidded quite some distance before crashing head-on into a very substantial tree.

The anxious faces were understandable as I did not emerge the winner from my argument with the tree. I sustained a broken leg, a fractured pelvis and severe concussion but these injuries, though serious, were not life-threatening. What was of considerable concern initially was the bleeding from my groin area where - once my beautiful suit pants had been snipped to ribbons - it was discovered that my scrotum had been virtually bisected when a fragment of hard plastic dashboard had attempted to re-assign my gender!

It is pointless pretending that I can remember much of those first few days in hospital. Really good drugs made everything little more than a haze. I can recall anxious children around my hospital bed and I can vividly recall my excitement at escaping the sterile and functional ambiance of the Intensive Care Unit and wallowing in the luxury of an equally sterile and functional private room. But I was not allowed to wallow for long. A routine check-up revealed that a blood clot had formed in my femoral artery and so I was rushed to surgery where the offending part was sliced away and a synthetic section stitched into place.

I must confess that I was probably not the perfect patient. Even in perfect health I tend to talk a lot. On really good drugs I apparently talk even more, ask lots of questions and sing too!

I resent being bedridden almost as much as I resent parking fines. When felled by a blow, my first thought is to get straight up again and get on with things. This is difficult with a broken leg and a broken pelvis. I also resent losing ownership of my own body and having no control over any significant activity - peeing in a bottle or having someone wash me or wipe my arse is my idea of hell! Worst of all, though, was my fear of the unknown, my dread at what might be the final outcome of my argument with that tree.

It's weird when the medicos tell you that your leg is broken but it's a "good" fracture - as fractures go. It's weird when they tell you that your pelvis is fractured but in the "best possible way". You lie there - drugged and helpless - and strive valiantly to rejoice in the fact that your fractures are not "bad" ones! In plain speak, I was being assured that mine were "simple" breaks that would heal well (or at least adequately) over a period of several weeks.

It's also a trifle disconcerting to set out on a journey feeling as fit as a fiddle and almost boyish, only to arrive at an alternate destination where people solemnly tell you that your age is suddenly a huge consideration, even perhaps a complication. Apparently, once you hit the big five-oh, then age becomes a factor in the body's healing capacity. On the other hand, if - as in my case - you are fit and you neither drink nor smoke, then your chances improve considerably. On the whole I was assessed as being remarkably healthy for one so ancient!

Now, any guy will agree that dick and ball injuries are of huge concern to their owner. Miraculously, my poor battered and burst scrotum sustained no major damage to its contents and it was stitched up quite nicely. I was happy about that and, for a few days there, I probably had the biggest balls in the world - but the swelling did eventually subside, leaving me a mere mortal once more!

Next, I was warned that pelvic fractures sometimes lead to temporary or even long-lasting erectile dysfunction. I was not happy to hear this. For several weeks I despaired of ever again having an erection, let alone being able to put it to good use; but one day I awakened from a nap with the most glorious and welcome hard-on I have ever experienced and I knew "the beast" was back! I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to throw a party and invite the world to a viewing - but I settled for a whispered "thank goodness for that".

Monday, 14 February, 2011 was not just a big day for lovers all over the globe; it was also a big day for a guy who had spent more than twelve long and frustrating weeks worrying and wondering whether he would walk properly again and, if so, whether his "attachments" would work properly too. Last Monday - having pushed myself through a truly excruciating regime of intensive physiotherapy - I was finally released from hospital and it is such a blessing to be home at last and surrounded by familiar things and the love of one's family.

Now is also a good time to consider some other blessings.

I will be forever grateful for the wonderful medical care that I received from so many outstanding workers in the health care sector. Tolerant, patient, straight-talking, good-humoured and encouraging people who were probably as keen to see the back of a certain determined and wildly optimistic guy as he was to see the hospital via a rear-vision mirror!

And then there was the love, support and good wishes of my family and so many friends through all the blood, sweat and tears shed between November and now. Several of these friends are people I first encountered at this site, and what wonderfully kind and compassionate people they are.

The very best news of all is that I am now walking a little. Admittedly, each step is exhausting - and alarming to watch! - but I intend to jettison this wheelchair as soon as I can and then progressively rid myself of the sticks and the canes and get myself back to the gym and the tennis courts and into the surf again. The physiotherapy seems more arduous than the initial injuries but I am determined to bounce back to a full and interesting life and to enjoy whatever possibilities I encounter.

Oh, yes. The other good news is that my "attachments" bear only the faintest of scars and appear to be in perfect working order. Thus far, only my own hands have been involved but - one day soon - I look forward to a more ambitious test with a more substantial partner!

For now, it's back to the wheelchair and getting myself suitably psyched up for tomorrow's physiotherapy session. Also, having dropped to just 135 pounds during this medical oddysey, I can dream about all the delicious food I intend to devour over the coming weeks!

I no longer take for granted the good health and reasonably interesting sex life I enjoyed prior to last November 29th. And I intend to revel once more in those same two things at every given opportunity henceforward.

Comments

So glad to hear you are finally back home! I had major surgery 3 years ago and could not believe how weak I was for a time afterwards.

I'm sure you will mend and be fit as a fiddle soon.

Best wishes.
 
Well, welcome back! I have been hoping that you would blog some of these events from your perspective. I'm sure I'm not the only one to miss your blogs.

Also, if I was closer I would certainly volunteer to be your "more substantial partner"; as it is, I'm surprised you didn't grab the nearest nurse to test drive the equipment. You are always surprising me! lol

PS. Are we drifiting apart? hehehe
 
Wow! I'm so glad to hear about your recovery! It's good to have you around again.

That was an incredible story. I'm so glad to hear that you're doing well!
 
Welcome home, welcome back! What an amazing,miraculous journey you've been privileged to make -- we'll know you have truly arrived when your current avatar disappears to be replaced by the old comically in his swim shorts! Good on you, mate!
 
All of the above and more well wishes from NY for a fast and speedy recovery! I can not imagine what 135 pounds looks like on a 6ft plus tall handsome man like yourself. I know how awful hospital food can be but my god did you only eat the jello for 12 weeks? I am so thrilled you are back and funny as ever. Most men would be severely depressed but not you! You are so blessed to have a great family and close friends. We all missed you!
 
I hate to be nosy or get anyone worried....but has anyone heard from Comically lately? Has he logged in? I am a bit worried.
 

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