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Diving in

So here it is, my first blog post; I’m diving in. I’ve wanted to write about my experiences over the last 20 months for a long time, but when it came down to it I would always shy away. Perhaps I wasn’t ready then, but I think I’m ready now. It took a long time and many drafts to find my voice and actually get this first post down on paper; most of the earlier versions felt dry, insincere and impersonal.

The picture is me diving in the Pacific. Young, strong, optimistic. Less than a year later I’d be in a coma in intensive care, with my family and friends having no idea how I would be when I woke up. It’s crazy how fast life can change. Luckily I woke up stubborn and pissed off, which definitely helped get me through the first few weeks.

So, I’m that guy. The guy who got his life thoroughly dismantled at a young age; so much so that it really makes me exceptional, like a z-list superhero: the origin story is good, but I missed out on all the superpowers. I got served up a real humdinger; if the events in our lives are canteen meals, I’m the guy who got a wet slap of cold mash on my plate instead of the sirloin I’d worked all week for. No appeals process to the great dinner lady of life, sadly. You have to eat what you get and be grateful you’re getting served at all.

It was a real Hindenburg moment for me. The kind of thing that just leaves all of your friends and extended family doing a great re-enactment of The Scream by Edvard Munch, watching the whole thing go up in flames, knowing it’s never going to be the same and it might not even be at all. The story you read about in the paper (not that anyone reads papers anymore) and you never think is going to happen to you. The sort of thing you might see and discuss with your friends, saying “Isn’t that tragic?”  but on some level being very grateful that isn’t you. Unfortunately for me I am that person. I’m that guy

I guess being hit by a car at 23, having your whole life trajectory terminated and being rendered paralyzed from the shoulders down has quite a lot of downsides, but the upside for you, my dear reader, is that I’m still around and willing to talk about it. So why listen to anything I say, or read anything I write? I have learnt some things that you can only learn by getting uncomfortably close to the parts of life we all try to avoid: the bits that taste bad and hurt a lot and make us feel like life isn’t worth living. I’ve done the hard work (although trust me, I didn’t want to) so you don’t have to. Maybe by hearing about my many failures and losses, successes and progressions, you’ll learn something about yourself. If not, at least I’ll make you laugh. Or cry. Or something. 

See you next time. 

 

20 thoughts on “Diving in”

  1. Hey Ed.Ive followed your progress since that horrible night when we got the phone call from a heartbroken Beth Hubberstey Poynton about what had happened.Im Beth’s pa and I just want you to know that all at Arrowe Park Hospital Theatres have also watched ,in absolute awe ,the progress you have made and the magnificent human being you have become.Stay strong mate and I wish you and Izzie the best that life can bring to such an incredible young couple.

  2. Hello Ed, I have worked with your dad for the last 25 years and I understand the tough battle you are fighting! It’s important that you use your experiences to help others understand your fight to recover. I’m sure that you will use your experiences to try to understand all of the effects of your injury and will keep abreast of scientific developments that may in the future help your nervous system to recover! Never give up! Best wishes, Ivor Green.

  3. First of all, I’m so sorry that this happened to you. You decided to dedicate your life to save other people’s lives only to have yours as you knew it ripped away from you at such a young age.
    As you said, you do have a voice & definitely one that should be heard, you are an inspiration to us all!
    Thank you for sharing your story x

  4. Hi Ed
    I am friends with Hannah and Joe ( through Joe’s Parents so MUCH older than you!)
    They told me about you when the accident happened and I did indeed think it was a tragic story. I am so please to read your blog… beautifully written.
    I look forward to your next blog.

  5. Hi Ed, I was given your blog address today. Thank you for what you have written and what you will write- it is excellent and a privilege to read . Your voice is powerful and influential.
    I will be following you all the way. We may be far away – but who knows… maybe one day you will write a blog from down here.
    You are amazing Ed and an inspiration to us all.
    Sending love from the family.

    1. Hi Trudy, I would love to get down to New Zealand sometime. I’ve already done Vancouver, so New Zealand can’t be much more difficult! God bless

  6. Cant wait to follow this blog. I also moved to the UK this year and would love to meet up. I dont have my action men anymore though! Xx Rona

    1. Hey Ed, I found you from Suzi’s (simpleclassyfab) instagram story and I loved that she posted about you. I read your blog and it is amazingly written and I can’t wait to read more. I’m also a PA. Best wishes, Karmen

  7. Hey there Ed, just stumbled on your blog from Instagram. Reading about how this all started sent chills down my spine (no pun intended). Your story is remarkable and by all accounts, it’s only gonna get even more awe-inspiring going forward. Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be cheering on from my seat in the crowd.

  8. I am glad that there is now going to be a blog to follow-along. 😀 I was with your Aunt Stephanie over in the USA when the accident happened and I always ask after you and have been so glad to hear that you are exactly as she said, a fighter who was not going to take this change in life lying down. Cheering for you from the other side of the pond and glad that you are ready to share your journey.

  9. Hi Ed,
    You don’t know me, but I used to be Stephanie’s (your aunt) physio before I moved to Norfolk a couple of years ago. I just wanted to say thank you. For sharing your story. For sharing your thoughts. And for understanding that we need to talk about situations like yours, a lot lot more. Thank you for starting the conversation. You might not realise it (or accept it) but you’re inspiring. Thank you and I look forward to hearing more of your journey. God bless xx

  10. I love your writing style. Thanks for having the courage to put this down on paper. I await with bated breath for the next installation!!!

  11. Hi Ed
    I’m Susie, perhaps Stephanie’s oldest friend (since eleven years old) and I often ask after you.
    Delighted to read your perfectly pitched and eloquent blog. You’re definitely in the land of the living and many people, old and young, will be interested in your life’s journey and what you have to say; both your perspective and your wit. Forge a beacon for others and life’s adverse events.
    Looking forward to your next instalment. Happy 2020.
    Susie xx

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