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The Bump

I suppose I should explain the bump to you.
Now you might be forgiven for thinking that ‘the bump’ in question refers somehow to the accident I had not too long ago, actually it's nearly three years ago, but the time has gone so quick since it happened that it feels like much less. Anyway, my partner and I were driving to work one morning, not really thinking too much about the journey or the risks. He was driving and I was in the front passenger seat, chatting away about nothing in particular, when he uttered a curse and slammed on the brakes. Not having been watching the road ahead, I turned to see another car in our lane – shouldn’t have been but they pulled out to go round a parked car when it wasn’t clear. Dave didn’t see it until the last second and we were doing 40mph, not that quick I know, but the stop was pretty abrupt. The relief was short lived though, because we might have been able to stop quickly but the truck behind us was too close and didn’t have a chance, slamming into the back of our car and then into the other idiot who had jumped into our lane. We hit the other car head on, two innocents sandwiched between the guilty parties.
The car was totalled. Dave’s head hit the side panel in the car and he was out of it. My head whipped backwards then forwards so forcefully that it broke my neck. We were both lucky to survive, he with a severe head injury and me with a C7 fracture. It took forever to get us out of the wreck and I’m glad I couldn’t see what was going on to be honest. I thought Dave was dead because he wasn’t making a sound. I couldn’t move to help him, my body felt like lead and my chest was so tight I couldn’t breathe properly. Didn’t realise I had broken ribs and one of my lungs got punctured. I think I must have passed out shortly after the paramedic’s arrived. Still, none of that is ‘the bump’ in question.
Neither am I referring to the bump on Dave’s head. You can’t see it now its healed, but part of his skull had to be cut away to relieve the pressure on his brain. After two weeks the surgeons put the piece back in and he began the slow process of recovery. He had poor movement for six months down the left hand side of his body but now he’s fully recovered. He gets headaches sometimes, but less often as time passes and you can only see the scar if he gets his hair cropped a bit too short.
I wasn’t so lucky, six months after the crash I was still in rehab, having made bugger all progress to be honest. Well that’s not strictly true. The injury left me paralysed from the chest down. The line of feeling ended just above my breasts, so even they were left numb, as were my fingers and palms and the inside of my wrists. The back of my forearms were okay, but my wrists are really weak and my fingers useless. As for everything else, well from the point of my injury down I had nothing. I did pretty well in rehab for someone with my injury and although I used a powerchair for a few weeks to begin with, they soon had me in a manual that I could push myself. When I say I made no progress, I meant I didn’t get any movement or feeling back, but I did get better at managing to do things.
At first I couldn’t even feed myself, but they taught me how to use little gadgets to eat, button up my clothes (though forget shoelaces), get showered, get in and out of bed and a ton of other things I hadn’t thought about for years. Eventually, after they had taught me enough to get by and the local authority sorted out the changes to our house, I was able to go home.
Dave and I had decided to get married some time before the accident, but we’d never been in a hurry and I wondered if he would run a mile now that I was permanently disabled, but he didn’t. So we got the help of our family and friends to arrange things and went ahead and got hitched a few months later. It was hardly my idea of the picture perfect wedding ceremony. Dave was still using a cane for balance back then and my dad rolled me down the aisle in my chair. Still it was a lovely August day and as the sun shone for us all day, I won’t complain. We still had a lot of work to do to recover fully. Dave was declared fit to go back to work before we got married and so it helped to have at least one income back in full. Enough for us to go on honeymoon to Cyprus. We stayed in Paphos and had a great time. To make life easier for me, we hired a car to get around. We weren’t sure we would be able to get around on buses. It was good to have the freedom to go where we wanted and allowed us to get pretty much everywhere without too many hassles. Our hotel was great, pretty new and very accessible, even having a pool lift so I could take a swim. After a couple of weeks we had both got a great tan and felt wonderfully relaxed.
Returning home also meant a return to work for me as well. I had lots of help from my OT with work-related tasks and legislation allowed my job to be held open, not that I needed to worry about that. My employers were actually very supportive. Dave and I both worked at the airport. He was a security supervisor and I worked for the Immigration Service. Its how we met after all. For the most part, so long as I could still use the computer and scan in passports, the physical part of my job wasn’t so bad and of course the airport itself was very wheelchair friendly. I suppose that’s where we lucked out really, it could have been so much worse if I’d lost my career as well as the use of most of my body. I use small cuffs on my wrists most of the time; they help me to push my chair along as my fingers are pretty rubbish. They are also useful for wedging a rubber-tipped pencil in for me to use to type better. I can use my thumbs, but I’m a bit slow as I can’t tell if I’ve actually hit the key right by touch. The pencil makes it easier because the tip is smaller than my thumb and I’m less likely to hit the wrong one. I have a lower desk too, they changed it specially, so I always get the easy job of checking EU passports through and not worrying about visas. I now have a little knack for scanning in the passports. I get my thumb tucked in the photo page, flick back my wrist so I am gripping it open and then put my other hand on top as I slide it through the reader. Everyone sees the wheelchair of course and they probably all assume that not being able to walk is the worst thing, but they’re so wrong. I’d have my hands back first if I could, everything would be so much easier. There were some difficulties at work to begin with, mostly for me it was trying to persuade them that I could manage the job, but that night shifts were really difficult for me. Early mornings were tough because it takes me two hours to get up and ready for the day, longer sometimes if my bowel routine takes more time that I expect and late nights played havoc with my sleep patterns which were interrupted at the best of times because I found it hard to turn myself in bed. It was so hard that they accepted I should only work day shifts and my hours were fixed as a result. It’s not like I was the only Immigration Officer in the country and I lost my unsociable hours bonus, but that seems unimportant in the grand scheme of things. It still takes me ages to get into my uniform though and the jacket just doesn’t fit me right in the chair - no more complaining now.
At least I am driving again now, which helps a lot. I have become forcefully independent and hate it when I can’t get somewhere by myself. It takes me a while to get in and out of the car, but I can manage it alone at least, which means I don’t have to bug everyone for lifts when I want to go beyond the end of my street. I can actually use regular hand controls which is nice and simple. They thought at first I would need something a little more complicated rigged up, but because I can control my wrists, even if they are a bit weak, I manage with the normal type paraplegics use. Means I don’t have to get one of those granny wagons either! I have a nice Audi A4 which looks pretty normal, just how I like it.
Dave and I both have the weekend off together, a rare treat. We are going to go out later today shopping for some new things. I’m not looking forward to the shopping much, though it will be entertaining as I go into some of the shops. I guess you’re thinking something kinky right now, shocking poor innocent members of the public by purchasing leather whips and chains…
Sorry but I’m not that adventurous. You see the reason I will no doubt cause a stir today is that my husband in lying beside me in bed, spooning me from behind, his arms wrapped under mine and around my rather distended stomach. His hands are feeling what mine can’t; the kicking of our baby growing rapidly now, six months into term. I have decided it’s a boy, from all the wriggling and kicking, but he thinks it’s a girl, so when we go out today to buy some more things, we’ll have to go neutral until we know for sure.
It has to be a caesarean section unfortunately, but its already scheduled for ten weeks from now, unless I go into premature labour, which I hope won’t happen. Dave is so excited that he has already decorated the baby’s room and bought a ton of toys. We still have to get a pushchair though and its one of those things that I can’t help be bugged about, how am I going to push it? I’m sure there’s got to be some way of attaching it to my chair, surely someone must have invented a little do-hickey gizmo, there’s one for everything else. Anyway that will be something to work out later, for now I’m enjoying my last few moments of lying in bed with my husband and ‘the bump.’