Weathering the Storm: Part 2
Fast and Slow
“Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis on which the whole earth revolves -
slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future;
live the actual moment. Only this moment is life.”
Fast
The summer months came and flying was more of a regular occurrence, new friendships were forged and slowly life was being lived more outside of my own head again. My heart was healing slowly, but it was healing.
“Hi Dad, I don’t have much battery and I’m not sure how long I’ll stay with it. I think I’ve broken my back I just wanted you to know that I am OK and the heli is on it’s way for me. I’ll get someone to call you and talk to you.”
I knew it wasn’t going to end well once the canopy collapsed and |’d fallen through the lines. I think i managed to keep busy trying to untangle myself from the lines as best I could and avoid the rocks I had seen. Whether this is the case, I don’t know. The rocks were avoided and I don’t have any memory of what happened until I was on the ground. Something didn’t feel right in my back so I tried to lay still. I like to think that my calling my parents was the act of a caring son, but on reflection, I think I was pretty scared and the child inside needed some reassurance. I fall, yes, but until now I had always bounced. The helicopter arrived and the warm embrace of painkillers followed shortly after.
Apparently morphine works...for amusing friends and killing pain
Definitely nobody home..
The next few hours were a haze of friends leaning over me, MRI scans, doctors and nurses coming and going, more visits from friends, catheter wars and then sleep. When I came too finally and was a little more lucid, I struck up a friendship with denial. Here I was with a very real insight into the fragility of life. Seemingly on the flip of a coin, I had escaped injury save two fractures to my lumbar spine. In fact, according to the doctor, once measured for an analgesic brace, I would be discharged and back at home.
I think i knew the challenges I was about to face would be mental and physical in equal measure, unfortunately naivety reared its head again and I underestimated just how much of a challenge things would be. Having spent the previous months breaking down walls and shoring up my mental foundations, I was in a stronger place mentally than I had been for a while. I was going to need to be. With Covid and its myriad of ever changing rules, no prospect of work for the next three months, the irony of an ex girlfriend who wanted nothing but to travel and surf, moving to a city and settling down with her new partner, the storm in my head began to rage.
I think the lack of visible injury allowed me to deceive myself into believing that I was alright physically and thus I was able to focus all my energy into simply getting up and about as fast as possible. Focus I did, I moved back to the UK to get a second opinion and worked hard on moving and walking. By week 5 I was at the climbing wall and using the circuit board as a safe outlet for my pent up energy. By week 9 I was back in Chamonix and ground handling my wing again and by week 11, I had arranged a hike and fly trip with two good friends to the Domes de Miage.
Having spoken with my physio, I knew the upper limit of what I could carry on my back by this point was around 10kgs. Weighing up the risk of flying without a reserve (a better understanding of my accident, simple top to bottom flight in stable air), I packed everything I’d need for a night in the hut and a flight down (wing, harness, glacier kit, water, silk sleeping bag, boots and camera) and managed to come in at around 9kgs.
A long, hot approach in the afternoon had us at the conscripts refuge enjoying a beer in the evening sun. A reasonably empty hut, thanks to Covid, and a good feed meant sleep wasn’t hard to come by and the 3.30 alarm was not such an unwelcome sound. Choosing the simple romp up the glacier, we were soon on the ridge and looking for a suitable take off. I pottered up to the summit to take some photos and then joined Al and John so we could fly down together. What followed was one of the best twenty minutes I’ve had the privilege to spend in the mountains. Crossing ridges, flying over the hut and retracing the steps from the previous days ascent and then landing in the morning sun in Les Contamines. The smile was going to take some removing and even now, as I write this, it returns as I’m transported to that feeling of absolute freedom and joy at being able to look around at such a quiet and stunning alpine playground. It felt good to banish any demons about being back in the air or flying without a reserve that may have been lurking.
Slow
It seemed as if I had been very lucky and I could get back to playing out and having fun in the mountains. However, as time progressed, a niggle in my back in autumn, became a constant low level pain and subsequent broken sleep through winter, which in turn morphed into excruciating pain and an inability to walk, sit or stand for any length of time by spring. It was time to admit to myself that something was very wrong. An MRI scan in the UK ruled out Cauda Equina but highlighted a badly herniated L5 disc. Having not been able to engage in my usual level of activity throughout winter and spring, I was now facing my toughest mental battle yet. More time spent away from the sports and activities that contribute so much to my mental and physical well-being. More time spent inside my head, questioning life choices and wondering where this journey will lead.
As I write this, I’m still awaiting a nerve root block injection but have been left under no illusion that this will be anything other than a pain killing bridge to help me reach the threshold for surgery.
It is so easy to be consumed by the negative connotations of a life physically put on hold. There are days when the tears flow, the frustration is all consuming and comparisons with my peers leave me mentally destitute as the stark reality of my current position hits home. I am learning though that patience is a virtue that has until recently escaped me and as such has been one that I have had to work hard at. Learning to accept that where I am is simply a point in my journey through life. It’s a journey that, ‘til this point, has been filled with adventures, friendships and fantastic opportunities. Learning to slow down, to embrace my situation and the opportunities that present themselves is a source of happiness. I don’t need to be at the top of a mountain or flying down one, there is so much joy to be found in the more easily accessible aspects of nature. Hours spent photographing waterfalls, sitting by the coast at sunset, waiting for a sunrise by Ullswater. No, I’m not financially as free as I have been. No, I’m not physically as able as I have been but I am learning that in slowing down I can savour the joy in moments I would otherwise miss. I know that by taking my time, investing in the process, I will heal properly and that feeling of freedom as I run from a BASE exit or feel my wing inflate and begin to fly from a paragliding launch will be mine again. When I get there it’ll be so much sweeter for the previous months of Covid and injury.
Sunrise on Ullswater in early Summer
In working hard at slowing down and being more patient, I’m developing a better self awareness and consequently a greater understanding of myself. Hopefully this will stand me in good stead going forward but for now I’m learning to accept and ultimately enjoy where I am.
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