Monday, October 20, 2008

The same kind of farmer's face

Monday, October 20, 2008
Nothing's doing it for me today.

Not fourteen cups of espresso, not left-over chickpea salad. Not the love of three good women, not even finding my tumble-drier bent laser and visa cards.

My face is all melty, my eyes are all droopy, my weak brain appears to be enveloped in vinegar soaked candy-floss. But on the upside, I do have the use of my limbs.

Finbar was on the phone last night. We exchanged children stories for a while. His youngest daughter is on course to represent her country in hockey, mine is, as yet, unincarcerated. We're both rambling mumblers so we filled many more minutes talking about fuck all. And as the converstation stumbled to its usual conclusion, we arrived, by way of my other sister's imminent milestone, upon the topic of a colleague of his, a 57 year old sub-11 hour Ironman.

This guy, this man of undoubted iron, was out mountain-biking on a popular Penticton trail when he had himself a leetle crash. He was not descending at any death-defying speed. No, he was climbing, slowly. Hit a sliver of early ice and was tossed gently over his handlebars. Landed on his chin. Hyper-extended his neck, violently. His friends, all medical men, kept him alive for three hours as they waited for the helicopter. He came out of the coma in a matter of days. And now he can blink. That's it. Just with the blinking.

And how does this tragedy make the all-important I feel? What do I take from this tale? What can I learn? That I should embrace life, surely. That I must now cut out the whinging, the whining, the moaning. Stop feeling sorry for myself and get out there and enjoy every minute with my family and friends.

No. That's not what I take from it at all.

Today's Title

20 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

V said...

The lesson I take form it is to have everything delivered and never leave the house ever, not even to post a letter, cos that could also happen in a post office.

Conan Drumm said...

Does Finbar have a mental scrapbook of these stories? You could collect them as Finbar's Fables.

fatmammycat said...

Poor man, it's a bit like that young rugby player I wrote about on Saturday. You might wonder if it was better to have been kept alive or not.

problemchildbride said...

Man, that's horrible. And life's so capricious. What a devastating thing for the poor guy. What a terrible twist of fate.

Twenty Major said...

V is right. Post offices in Ireland are amongst the iciest in the world.

gimme a minute said...

You'll have to get yourself one of those internets.

It's yet another book I won't write.

I was thinking the same thing, and brought it up.

Apparently, because he has full brain activity, he can legally make the decision to have his machine turned off.

I don't know what I'd blink, I really don't.

It's a fairly high-risk sport, but when you're descending. It was horrible combination of misfortune.

Twenty Major:
Right, fuck it, I'm staying in.

Can somebody bring me Snickereses?

Ellie said...

No talking about any milestones! There is no milestone.

Conan Drumm said...

30? 40? Yup, milestones are a pain in the ass.

gimme a minute said...

You know, no one was going to notice that. But now you've drawn attention to it and everybody knows that you're going to be forty.

Fifty, Conan. Big gap between us.

Conan Drumm said...

Ellie's not really going to appreciate that, is she?

50. Been there. Bad time. Survived. Good for lots of folks though.

Ellie said...

21 you evil blog people!

gimme a minute said...

She's not really going to be fifty. And yes, I'm dead meat.

But I'm shocked and stunned that you've reached that one. You don't look a day of it. Unless, like me, you've aged horribly in the last six months.

Uh huh.

Medbh said...

Penticton was really beautiful when we drove through.

Luckily Mr. M came home in one piece after kicking ass in a cross race in Portland.

Conan Drumm said...

It was darkish Gimme, remember?

*makes mental note to check that old portrait in the shed*

Anyway, I'm well past it now. It coincided with a very bad time. I'm maybe going to write about it soon.

gimme a minute said...

Just so long as he still has the use of his dog-walking legs.

I look forward to that. In the worst, neighbour peering through the curtains kind of way.

The Hangar Queen said...

I say there's no way I'd want to live after something like that then again.....

Sometimes there is a chance that once the swelling goes down that function can be restored.It takes a while before they can definitely say the paralysis is permanent.That's why they make every effort to keep them going.

My heart goes out to him and his family.

Bock the Robber said...

I'd say he's hinting that there's a bike for sale.

gimme a minute said...

Hangar Queen:
Finbar agrees, all hope is not lost. I've sent positive, useless thoughts.

The paralysed guy or me? Nobody's taking my babies away. Cold dead hands.

Bock the Robber said...

The paralysed guy of course.

It's like the old joke. Good news and bad news. We amputated the wrong foot but the fella in the next bed wants to buy your slippers.

gimme a minute said...


Good one.

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