what’s that coming over the hill

Since my crash I’ve struggled with the rehab and the quitting of being active, I have a thought of “ what’s the point”, why am I riding a bike when really my legs in 5 years could well be useless, I struggle hard with it, I cry so much when I consider my future, it scares me.

I can handle being single for the rest of my life, I manage not having a family by filling the void with friends but I still weep over my mother, all of that is manageable but the thing I can see coming over the hill isn’t a monster but a wheelchair and as an able bodied person I never thought that would happen.

We are amazing animals, our bodies are total wonders, I’ve broken my shit more times than I count, you might call it being physically wreckless but I know in my dotage every ache and pain was earned. Part of me thinks that it’s a good thing that I’m aware of the issue and that I can prepare for it but due to the nature of the injury I could collapse tomorrow and realistically not be able to get back up.

I visualise that moment, it’s upsetting, but I feel I have to I have to be able to be as accepting of that eventuality as I am with my current condition, should it happen tomorrow I don’t want to freak out over it, I don’t want that mental flat spin.

It’s a problem and every problem either has a solution or a work around and as there is no solution and the only work around is acceptance then that’s where I need to be.

Fact is if, like me you have use of your legs we don’t really consider chair users, we sympathise but we don’t consider, the world doesn’t consider which I why transport for chair users is so shitty, able bodied designer like me not giving a shit making the word in our image for us.

This event has fundamentally shifted my view of my profession, some of the project I’ve been involved in that I saw as success are now failure because those things become relevant to my future.

Of course the other side is perhaps I should have just quit in the hospital bed and accepted the chair and moved forward with my life like that and it sounds stupid but I’ not done using my legs yet, ( im crying) my legs, fuuuuuuuuuuck don’t take my legs. A least then I could have moved on, I’m not one for giving up and if the chair was the only option I would like to think that I’d cope but realistically with the brain damage I wouldn’t and I’d have had a very empty funeral hall.

It’s a crazy situation, I would take any drug available I someone said it would fix me, I suppose that’s speaks more to how I see people in chairs, that’s another thing I’m dealing with, I’ve spent my life being a judgmental arsehole and picking everything apart when it’s so emotive isn’t easy  but I have to come terms with it.

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