Sunday 20 May 2007

Still wading through treacle

Two hundred and ninety three days have passed since I kissed the concrete and turned my world to treacle. I know this because I have written them (the days) down and added them up - not because I remember them...which I don't.

Its really weird realising that you have the memory of a dead goldfish. It isn't until you realise how that impacts on almost every aspect of life that the terror starts to creep in. And realisation has taken two hundred and ninety days.

Its funny because I have told lots of people about my accident. Everyone is interested in what happened and how it happened...and what happened next...and so I tell them. What the majority don't realise is that when I say I don't actually remember it, I really don't remember it and all the details I can provide are second hand - every one provided by someone else.
Much of what I know is a matter of medical record. Some is from a witness statement and the rest comes from friends and family and my notes in notebooks and entries in a closed to the public but online diary.

The thing I can't understand is how one simple concrete kissing accident can possibly lead to all this?

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