Paul, your writing - its quality - is so high that I despair that you are faced with such a situation. I know logically there is no reason why someone who writes well should be spared the situation with which you are faced but somehow it feels more unfair. My partner’s mother who is 97 is being hounded by her ungrateful eldest son yet is oblivious through dementia. Had she retained her marbles she would be distraught with her truly awful situation. (See my recent rant about English Law).
That your writing is so full of feeling seems doubly unfortunate and we can only hope you find a way through to a brighter future where your writing is able to flow fully.
I was an outpatient at Stanmore a few years ago when considering a 3-level spinal fusion and recall sitting in the waiting area ahead of a consultation and seeing a contorted young man with huge scoliosis wheeled in to wait for his. I felt something of a fraud in that though in pain I was (am) able to move freely. That boy was frothing and crying out in pain. In the event I curtailed my assessment and left having decided not to risk the fusion and to learn to live with my condition. (My recent freak accident of which I have written was unrelated to my spinal issue.)
Currently I am 6 months post accident with substantial neck and hand pain and considering approaching my GP for a possible MRI of my neck and to look at the state of the nerves which exit the spine and end on the hands. I may have to add these problems to those of the spine and learn to cope with them all at 78.
I wish you well with your rehabilitation and hopefully a return to something near a bearable life in which your writing will flourish.
I easily found two of his works listed on his university website: 1) Adam Smith Reconsidered: History, Liberty, and the Foundations of Modern Politics; and 2) The Opinion of Mankind: Sociability and the State from Hobbes to Smith. Basic Equality is listed as forthcoming.
Sorry for being presumptuous, Paul, but I'm an academic as well, in an adjacent field, so knew how to look up your writing. I've enjoyed your thoughts here. Clearly, you have contributions to make to political theory that you might not have had before your accident. I'm looking forward to Basic Equality.
I second what Mike just said - you have so much to offer! I can’t wait to read your next book (do you have an outline yet?) Is your writing that of someone only fit to be put out to pasture? No it is not!
I can’t help but feel, however, that when you write about ‘reality’ and ‘realistic’….. Paul, it’s the depression talking, do you see it? The “black dog” that stalks you and keeps dragging you down whenever you dare to have a slightly positive thought, and then sandbags you with the idea that the awful things you’re thinking are only the ‘truth’. It’s not the truth and it’s not even really you, it’s the depression and the destructive self-sabotage it causes……
Believe me, and I know this so, so, hard, but *do not believe everything you think*. Thoughts are NOT facts. They are only thoughts.
It was very interesting to read about this rehabilitation centre, as like you, I wouldn't know what they were like or what was offered, and also like you, I would have thought that much of it would revolve around regaining life skills and some type of normality, and it's sad that you just end up sinking into passivity in the face of that deficit. Great that the physio and OTs are good, but that's very limited. It is so hard to know what to expect. In a much lesser way I am not sure about where I am at with a different type of injury- I am not sure whether I'm doing well for someone who has a messed up leg, or badly as it should be more improved than it is- this uncertainty about expectations is a funny place to be and seems to require continual psychological adjustment- but adjusting to what?
I agree, getting out of the hospital ward is everything here, for all the reasons you have detailed and all the reasons I also hate being in hospital. It is the opposite of offering a calm, health-promoting atmosphere, you can neither convalesce or rehabilitate on an NHS ward with curtains, noise and overhead lights switched on at 6am.
I don't know what the future holds for you. I do know I enjoy your writing. Hannah x
Hi Paul, I totally see your point of view. I also imagine that your high expectations were a catalyst that made sure you did everything you could to get the maximum benefit from the rehab offered- which you clearly have. On to the thing now
Hi, As ever you write with real clarity about life in rehab. What you say about the limitations of physio, OT and the monotony of living in a hospital ward for most of the time, rings true with me. I say that while acknowledging nevertheless, how amazing the physios, nurses, rehab assistants and occupational therapists are at Stanmore. I was there from March to June last year. Before that I languished for four months in a south London hospital. I too was given the impression that Stanmore was hallowed ground for a tetraplegic patient like me. It felt like I would never make it there. When I did, my expectations were sky high. I looked forward to the gym sessions and tried to push myself hard in them. What my wife and I call ‘real life rehab’ now that I’m home - opening tins of beans, making coffee - was largely absent in the rehab unit. I made one peanut butter sandwich in the OT kitchen while I was there. It took so long and I felt so useless that it reduced me to tears. I would also have appreciated more help in dressing myself and other ‘real life’ tasks. As you yourself mentioned I think staff shortages play a major part in the resources available at the centre. The food however did much to cheer me up. Unlike many people who complained about the bill of fare, I found it much better than my previous berth. Lentil dal, okra masala etc… actually tasted like they should have done. I wish you all the best with the future and keep on writing!
Paul, your writing - its quality - is so high that I despair that you are faced with such a situation. I know logically there is no reason why someone who writes well should be spared the situation with which you are faced but somehow it feels more unfair. My partner’s mother who is 97 is being hounded by her ungrateful eldest son yet is oblivious through dementia. Had she retained her marbles she would be distraught with her truly awful situation. (See my recent rant about English Law).
That your writing is so full of feeling seems doubly unfortunate and we can only hope you find a way through to a brighter future where your writing is able to flow fully.
I was an outpatient at Stanmore a few years ago when considering a 3-level spinal fusion and recall sitting in the waiting area ahead of a consultation and seeing a contorted young man with huge scoliosis wheeled in to wait for his. I felt something of a fraud in that though in pain I was (am) able to move freely. That boy was frothing and crying out in pain. In the event I curtailed my assessment and left having decided not to risk the fusion and to learn to live with my condition. (My recent freak accident of which I have written was unrelated to my spinal issue.)
Currently I am 6 months post accident with substantial neck and hand pain and considering approaching my GP for a possible MRI of my neck and to look at the state of the nerves which exit the spine and end on the hands. I may have to add these problems to those of the spine and learn to cope with them all at 78.
I wish you well with your rehabilitation and hopefully a return to something near a bearable life in which your writing will flourish.
Could we have the title(s) of your book(s), please? You do write extraordinarily well, and it would be nice to be able to find the rest of your work.
I easily found two of his works listed on his university website: 1) Adam Smith Reconsidered: History, Liberty, and the Foundations of Modern Politics; and 2) The Opinion of Mankind: Sociability and the State from Hobbes to Smith. Basic Equality is listed as forthcoming.
Sorry for being presumptuous, Paul, but I'm an academic as well, in an adjacent field, so knew how to look up your writing. I've enjoyed your thoughts here. Clearly, you have contributions to make to political theory that you might not have had before your accident. I'm looking forward to Basic Equality.
Thanks so much, Valerie, I had no idea where to look, or even a surname to locate Paul’s work.
I second what Mike just said - you have so much to offer! I can’t wait to read your next book (do you have an outline yet?) Is your writing that of someone only fit to be put out to pasture? No it is not!
I can’t help but feel, however, that when you write about ‘reality’ and ‘realistic’….. Paul, it’s the depression talking, do you see it? The “black dog” that stalks you and keeps dragging you down whenever you dare to have a slightly positive thought, and then sandbags you with the idea that the awful things you’re thinking are only the ‘truth’. It’s not the truth and it’s not even really you, it’s the depression and the destructive self-sabotage it causes……
Believe me, and I know this so, so, hard, but *do not believe everything you think*. Thoughts are NOT facts. They are only thoughts.
It was very interesting to read about this rehabilitation centre, as like you, I wouldn't know what they were like or what was offered, and also like you, I would have thought that much of it would revolve around regaining life skills and some type of normality, and it's sad that you just end up sinking into passivity in the face of that deficit. Great that the physio and OTs are good, but that's very limited. It is so hard to know what to expect. In a much lesser way I am not sure about where I am at with a different type of injury- I am not sure whether I'm doing well for someone who has a messed up leg, or badly as it should be more improved than it is- this uncertainty about expectations is a funny place to be and seems to require continual psychological adjustment- but adjusting to what?
I agree, getting out of the hospital ward is everything here, for all the reasons you have detailed and all the reasons I also hate being in hospital. It is the opposite of offering a calm, health-promoting atmosphere, you can neither convalesce or rehabilitate on an NHS ward with curtains, noise and overhead lights switched on at 6am.
I don't know what the future holds for you. I do know I enjoy your writing. Hannah x
Hi Paul, I totally see your point of view. I also imagine that your high expectations were a catalyst that made sure you did everything you could to get the maximum benefit from the rehab offered- which you clearly have. On to the thing now
Hi, As ever you write with real clarity about life in rehab. What you say about the limitations of physio, OT and the monotony of living in a hospital ward for most of the time, rings true with me. I say that while acknowledging nevertheless, how amazing the physios, nurses, rehab assistants and occupational therapists are at Stanmore. I was there from March to June last year. Before that I languished for four months in a south London hospital. I too was given the impression that Stanmore was hallowed ground for a tetraplegic patient like me. It felt like I would never make it there. When I did, my expectations were sky high. I looked forward to the gym sessions and tried to push myself hard in them. What my wife and I call ‘real life rehab’ now that I’m home - opening tins of beans, making coffee - was largely absent in the rehab unit. I made one peanut butter sandwich in the OT kitchen while I was there. It took so long and I felt so useless that it reduced me to tears. I would also have appreciated more help in dressing myself and other ‘real life’ tasks. As you yourself mentioned I think staff shortages play a major part in the resources available at the centre. The food however did much to cheer me up. Unlike many people who complained about the bill of fare, I found it much better than my previous berth. Lentil dal, okra masala etc… actually tasted like they should have done. I wish you all the best with the future and keep on writing!
Nothing I can add. You write so well. And I’m so sorry for your dilemma. My retired ponies do one hell of a lot better. I hope you can soon too.