RECOVERY BEGINS
Progress was slow, the outcome still uncertain, and by the time I reached Salisbury spinal unit I’d spent almost every minute in the same room for eight weeks. It was mid-June and we were just entering a heatwave, which made it stiflingly hot on the ward. My temperature regulation was all over the place and I still had a collar and chest brace on for at least another month, so things were about to get uncomfortable.
Fortunately, a couple of years earlier a charity had built an accessible area at the hospital to allow patients to get outside. And when I rolled into Horatio’s garden for the first time, felt the sun on my face and took a gulp of fresh air, I truly realised what I had been missing. Over the next few weeks I spent most of every day out there, either doing rehab, meeting friends or just sitting and thinking next to the water features or flowers. The difference it made to my mindset and energy levels was one of the main reasons that after three months, and against all odds, I not only stood but took my first step.
I discharged myself from hospital, moved in with my parents and began pushing my body to see how much further I could take it, all the time very conscious of the impact that the outdoors was having on my mental state and consequently my recovery. It started with physio in the garden. I would use the handrail around the decking for support as I dragged myself up out of my chair and stood for as long as I could. Things soon progressed, and as the number of steps I could take increased I started to venture out in the car with my physio Pete to find quiet places and flat pieces of grass where I could fall over as much as I liked. It was about nine months after my accident when I announced to Pete that I was going to try to climb Snowdon on the one-year mark.
SUMMITING SNOWDON
The idea was met with a laugh and then a concerned look when Pete realised I was being serious. At that point I hadn’t walked much further than a few hundred metres, so to get from there to climbing the highest mountain in Wales in three months was ambitious… or stupid, depending on who you asked.
I knew, though, that I needed something to focus on to keep me motivated through the hours of physio, and I couldn’t keep my mind off the mountains. Having been brought up in the countryside and living next to the Brecon Beacons for the last couple of years, I’d always loved the hills but