Thursday, May 24, 2007
SLOWLY DAWNING......
Had an interesting experience at 'the place that sells bad beer' a few nights ago.
I was propping up the bar with three other people and I got talking with one of them.
We didn't know each other from a bar of soap, but as the conversation lengthened he realised that he might know know who I am.
It transpired that he was there when Geoff organised a bit of a collection for my bad self.
While I was whiling my weeks in the hospital he generously donated some of his hard earnt cash towards my cause, having never met me, but being an ex motorcyclist he felt the compulsion to help out a dude in need.
I was obviously taken aback by his generosity and struggled to find the right words / actions of gratitude to demonstrate my appreciation for his actions.
How is it that a bloke who has never met me came to put his money where his mouth is and contribute towards the cost of the laptop computer that I'm writing this post on?
I don't know myself, but I'm just thankful that he did.
There is something to be said for the kindness of strangers.
Yesterday I had a meeting with a neurosurgeon, whose job it was to ascertain the state of my nervous system, form the point of view of a professional providing his opinion for my court case.
I learnt some things about myself that I just didn't realise before.
I figured myself relatively well off in the nerve / brain damage side of things since the smash, but as I spoke with him it dawned on me that I may not be as well off as I presumed myself to be.
It does indeed appear that I have suffered a degree of nerve damage on my right side and some neurological / mental /psychological affects which never entered into my scope of thinking.
Ignorant bliss may well be a great state to be in, if you are ignorant of the fact.
I would imagine that it would not so great if you are aware of it, as are the many people I have met in my in and outpatient experience.
Having these deficiencies pointed out to me by what I would class as a very well versed and learned professional in the field is not a pleasant thing to have to find out.
He didn't exactly say 'by the way, you're right side is fucked, you have mental problems, there is damage to your hearing, sensation, motor control, etc' but I could tell from his covered reactions that all was not well.
I knew that I wasn't exactly right, but figured that some of the problems would sort themselves out over time and the others would just become part of my being, but I had a kind of optimism that enabled me to just plod along my set path towards my end goal.
For example, the right bicep has indeed gone from a useless lump of meat to something that is earning it's keep, not in the same sense as my left one but still a vast improvement on what it was.
Oh, sod it!
Whatever happens will happen, no point worrying about something you have no control over, I prefer to retreat into my ignorant bliss shell.
Next weekend my house Gemma is shooting a short film for her Uni course in our house.
Never thought that this place would be a location for a short flick, let alone my bedroom, but there it is.
I'm not new to the acting thing myself, having had a minor role in a professional production before, and been involved in a short film as well some years back.
In the short film, in which a good mate of mine did the score, I was asked to play the part of a victim of assault.
I declined the role due to the fact that the people doing the assault were not professional actors, more like some bogans the director had commandeered to do the 'job'.
I was very glad I didn't take up the offer after I saw all the bruises on the feller who had taken my place.
All in good jest, but still better him than me.
I did however have some input in the directional side of things, minor as it was.
Friday week, I'm off to Tassie.
My best mate Lumpy says that some of my old crew from down there are having a massive Firecracker night at a one of our mate's properties in the middle of nowhere.
This is a place where we planted some oak trees in memory of our mate Sam, an unassuming little country property on the edge of the highland tiers of Tasmania.
We used to go there to ride trail bikes, have huge bonfires, go shooting, eat wallaby stew cooked over a wood fire, etc.
It'll be nice to catch up with that mob and see how how the oaks are doing ten years on.
.
I was propping up the bar with three other people and I got talking with one of them.
We didn't know each other from a bar of soap, but as the conversation lengthened he realised that he might know know who I am.
It transpired that he was there when Geoff organised a bit of a collection for my bad self.
While I was whiling my weeks in the hospital he generously donated some of his hard earnt cash towards my cause, having never met me, but being an ex motorcyclist he felt the compulsion to help out a dude in need.
I was obviously taken aback by his generosity and struggled to find the right words / actions of gratitude to demonstrate my appreciation for his actions.
How is it that a bloke who has never met me came to put his money where his mouth is and contribute towards the cost of the laptop computer that I'm writing this post on?
I don't know myself, but I'm just thankful that he did.
There is something to be said for the kindness of strangers.
Yesterday I had a meeting with a neurosurgeon, whose job it was to ascertain the state of my nervous system, form the point of view of a professional providing his opinion for my court case.
I learnt some things about myself that I just didn't realise before.
I figured myself relatively well off in the nerve / brain damage side of things since the smash, but as I spoke with him it dawned on me that I may not be as well off as I presumed myself to be.
It does indeed appear that I have suffered a degree of nerve damage on my right side and some neurological / mental /psychological affects which never entered into my scope of thinking.
Ignorant bliss may well be a great state to be in, if you are ignorant of the fact.
I would imagine that it would not so great if you are aware of it, as are the many people I have met in my in and outpatient experience.
Having these deficiencies pointed out to me by what I would class as a very well versed and learned professional in the field is not a pleasant thing to have to find out.
He didn't exactly say 'by the way, you're right side is fucked, you have mental problems, there is damage to your hearing, sensation, motor control, etc' but I could tell from his covered reactions that all was not well.
I knew that I wasn't exactly right, but figured that some of the problems would sort themselves out over time and the others would just become part of my being, but I had a kind of optimism that enabled me to just plod along my set path towards my end goal.
For example, the right bicep has indeed gone from a useless lump of meat to something that is earning it's keep, not in the same sense as my left one but still a vast improvement on what it was.
Oh, sod it!
Whatever happens will happen, no point worrying about something you have no control over, I prefer to retreat into my ignorant bliss shell.
Next weekend my house Gemma is shooting a short film for her Uni course in our house.
Never thought that this place would be a location for a short flick, let alone my bedroom, but there it is.
I'm not new to the acting thing myself, having had a minor role in a professional production before, and been involved in a short film as well some years back.
In the short film, in which a good mate of mine did the score, I was asked to play the part of a victim of assault.
I declined the role due to the fact that the people doing the assault were not professional actors, more like some bogans the director had commandeered to do the 'job'.
I was very glad I didn't take up the offer after I saw all the bruises on the feller who had taken my place.
All in good jest, but still better him than me.
I did however have some input in the directional side of things, minor as it was.
Friday week, I'm off to Tassie.
My best mate Lumpy says that some of my old crew from down there are having a massive Firecracker night at a one of our mate's properties in the middle of nowhere.
This is a place where we planted some oak trees in memory of our mate Sam, an unassuming little country property on the edge of the highland tiers of Tasmania.
We used to go there to ride trail bikes, have huge bonfires, go shooting, eat wallaby stew cooked over a wood fire, etc.
It'll be nice to catch up with that mob and see how how the oaks are doing ten years on.
.
