As promised, part two unfolds...
Further to my previous post, you will note that both my ankle injury and epic failure with a new diet both pretty much summed up the remainder of 2007 for me. At the turn of the year, the contender in the Red corner (vis a vie, moi) was weighing in at around 196lbs or, 14 stone. A substantial increase from the summer months. Most of my clothes were becoming a little more uncomfortable (well...'tighter'), and my energy levels had dipped ever so slightly. I was still however in pretty good spirits as I was still a member of the gym and confident I could retain my wayward fitness level. The post continues at the turn of the year...2008. A new dawn, a fresh start etc etc etc...
All my life I felt I was sheltered from a lot of things from my parents, I suppose many of you out there are the same. Such was their love for me, I was often disallowed to do certain things or go certain places to ease the worry on their minds. They were I feel, a little 'too over protective' as the saying goes. At the time I often became frustrated and furious at the decisions they were making for me. Now I can see that I was shallow minded and know that it was nothing more than their love for me, which in their eyes protected me from certain aspects of life. Whilst this did indeed have the desired effect, its a tricky thing to manage as you can also shelter a child too much and in doing so, make them a little unaware of how terrible, ruthless and unforgiving the world can be at times. This ugly flip side, came frighteningly vivid to me very soon.
My father had been previously diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. A debilitating terminal lung disease. It causes damage to your lungs which results in inflammation and then scarring of your lung tissue. As we all know scar tissue heals an injured area, however, with your lungs, the scar tissue stops the lungs doing their job - taking oxygen from the air and passing it into the blood. This causes breathing difficulties with simple activities such as walking or talking. From the date of diagnosis, your remaining life span is around 6 years. Now, as my father was diagnosed in 2002, it doesn't take a genius to do the math. He hadn't long left.
Although in the back of my mind I knew what was on the road ahead, I was completely and utterly oblivious to the reality of the whole scenario. As a child, your father is your hero, your mentor, your best friend. A giant amongst other men. Someone who you look up to and respect over all others and the very thought of him becoming sick, weak or frail is laughable. These were the feelings that I was holding onto. Whether rightly or wrongly, I just couldn't come to terms with the fact that my father was dying.
On 29th January 2008, my worst fears became a reality. The most important person in my life had gone.
At the time I had very mixed emotions. I was glad for him because he was no longer in any pain. Shortly before he passed away he described trying to breathe as if someone was holding a face-cloth over your nose and mouth. It was agony.
I was also extremely angry inside. I was mad at the City Hospital in Belfast for not treating him as well as they could have and not being more aware of his illness. I was mad at myself for bottling up all the misconceptions that everything would be ok.
The main feeling that overcame me however, was Pride. I can't explain it. It was nothing other than a euphoric feeling of Pride. I had never felt anything like it before.
In the few days before his passing we talked together like we had never done. My father was very old fashioned - a man's man. A pat on the back from him as he walked past felt as much as any hug he could ever give. He was not one for showing his emotions and that has reflected in me I feel. In our last conversations I had told him how much I loved him, something that I had never done before, and how much he meant to me and how much I will miss him when he is gone. But I also told him to not be afraid, that he had suffered too long. Other more personal things were said of course, but they are for my heart to keep.
These day's so many people never get the chance to tell the people they love the things they need to before the great big cloud in the sky calls for them, but in my case, thankfully, I got to say everything that I needed to say - and wanted to say for so long but never had the strength or courage to do so.
The feeling of Pride that now enveloped me, along with my friends and family, helped me get through the following weeks and months with relative ease. There were obviously better days than others, but knowing that my father was in heaven and no longer in pain soon eased my mind and brought a smile to my face.
I feel the same now as I did then, full of pride. I am only disappointed in the fact that he will not be here to see his first Grandchild, my son, born. What I do know however is that he will be with him his whole life watching out for him. And if I can be half as good a father to my son as my dad was to me, I will consider it a job well done!
I remained off work throughout February and March of 2008. Due to the circumstances I hadn't exactly been in the mood or frame of mind to throw myself back into an exercise program. I had the odd sporadic venture to the gym, but felt unattached and disengaged on arrival and very often the workout lasted for 10 mins on the treadmill followed by a shower then home. Whilst this was the case, I knew it was only a matter of time however, before I shook off the cobwebs and did eventually build up some consistent, progressive gym sessions....
"BANG! CRACK! - Were the sounds I remember hearing.......(yet again.....)
It was 12.30pm. A Sunday. The date was 6th April 2008. The start of a new tax year....oh the coincidence!
Having just dropped Dervlagh off to work for her 1pm-9pm slog in Musgrave Hospital, I was in good spirits. The sun was shining and I remember having the radio on listening to the solo of 'Chamagne Supernova' (the Budoken version of course!)
As I drove back home via the Falls Road to Beechmount, I noticed a little further up ahead, a Black Taxi had unscrupulously slammed on the brakes and swerved to the side of the road to pick up a fare from the meandering joe who was vacantly staring it down in a blankless manner with his arm held aloft!
The actions of this idiot (the taxi driver that is, not the working class citizen just wanting to pay his 50p for a short hop and a skip into the bustling city centre) had a cataclysmic consequence.
Due to the abrupt braking from the 'idiot' the car directly behind him (car no.1) also had to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into the 'idiot'. The car directly behind it (me - in car no.2) also had to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into her. Having managed this by the skin of my teeth (hehe love that saying) alas, an accident was avoided!
But no! Car no.3 (cough 'R' driver, cough) was in his element at this stage thinking he was Mickey Schumachers wee bro, Alf....or Ralf....who cares. Such was the speed he was travelling at, that although he too slammed on the brakes, the speed was in excess of the limit and subsequently smashed into me with such force, it caused me to collide with the car in front - which only a second earlier - I had managed to bloody avoid! - Then as if that wasn't enough, Mr BMW (car no.4!!) smashed into Mr R plates and there was another FURTHER impact!
So here I am in a 4 CAR PILE UP in the middle of the Falls Road at lunch hour, knee deep in a car accident which I had originally managed to AVOID!! (Needless to say that the feckin' 'idiot' in the Black Taxi had drove off amidst the carnage having collected his 50p fare, in a state of delierium caused by listening to Radio feckin' Ulster for the last 3 decades!)
The Police soon arrived and took their statements, photo's, sketches etc. My car was a write-off.
In the days that followed the pain began radiating through my back, shoulders and neck. After two separate trips to the hospital and a few X-rays I was diagnosed with ol' faithful...Whiplash - or as they call in in medical terms - Muscular Skeletal Injury. Another big spanner thrown into my already desperate and failing fitness works.
Throughout the summer months and probably the remainder of 2008 I was plagued by my injuries sustained in the car crash. Ongoing physiotherapy sessions coupled with bouts of immobility spurned any goal I had of returning to any form of exercise regime.
At this time, my weight had risen again...almost but not quite there yet, to 15 stone. A landmark....or lard-mark as far as I was concerned. An epic display of unfortunate, unavoidable events (ok, well perhaps the stoopid Keto diet madness could've been avoided) which is a terrifying wake up call as to how your life can be thrown upside down in such a short space of time!
Its not all bad however, although the chronicles of 2008 are coming to a close in this second part of my new post, there are however some positive's. At the turn of the year I have moved office's in the Civil Service which is a new exciting challenge for me and am still (patience of a saint that little one :-) ) engaged to my fianceé Dervlagh, and we have booked our wedding for 4th June 2009!
Surely this new year, 2009, can't be as hectic, unsettling and frantic as last....
OR CAN IT!..........
............stay tuned for pt. 3 coming very soon!
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