Steve

A massively busy day when I was already feeling jaded with flu symptoms and hospital stuff. Started with an early appointment at the specialist neuro centre in Walton for pre-op checks. The new system involves: locating the one remaining parking space at the far end of the carpark, walking to the machine in the hospital entrance to purchase a ticket for the estimated amount of time needed, walking all the way back to the car to attach it to the window, walking back to the hospital with increasingly swelling ankle, entering outpatients dept where about 200 people are waiting, taking a numbered ticket just to check in, waiting for 20 mins, and checking in to be allowed to wait in earnest. No phone signal, nothing to watch or read, forgot to take a book. Sounds familiar to anyone? When I finally got to see someone, the first thing she said was "You're very late". Usual battery of tests later, it transpires I have high blood pressure (no shit) and was asked why I've stopped my medication. I explained I was allergic to it and nearly choked to death, but there is no mention of that in my records (different health authority non-communication again).

Much stress later I left the place which always brings fearsome flashbacks and headed into town to the all-day event at Neurosupport, Action for Brain Injury Day, where I met lots of friendly familiar faces (names often escape me but no-one takes offense as they're largely in the same boat).

Interesting talk by a neuropsychiatrist who criticised the crude categories of Mild, Moderate and Severe head injury - he said to his mind there is no mild head injury, as all have profound effects but some are less visible than others.

Two survivors of traumatic head injury then told their stories: Sean, who was badly beaten by Scottish football fans years ago for being a Liverpool supporter, is a pleasant and gentle still-young man who after his injury met, married and had a child with a woman and then got divorced some months later - not because of violent behaviour or anything on his part but because his memory problems made a normal family life difficult. He then repeated the process with another woman. A head-injury survivor in the audience called out "hey Sean, can we come to your next wedding, mate?". Sean told his story with charm and humour but his face crumpled when he said his regret was not being able to remember his wedding days or the births of his son and daughter, whom he sees and takes out regularly and remains on good terms with his ex-wives.

Steve, pictured, was involved in a freak road accident as a teenager with his two best friends from school, who both died - that still haunts him. The firemen who cut them out of the car initially assumed he was also dead as he was so damaged, but he survived against all odds though his left arm was useless. Years of painful treatment later have fashioned a sort of claw function so he can hold light things like paper, but he still struggles with memory and concentration, especially after in a second accident his car was rammed by another driver, exacerbating the existing injuries. 60 now, he has a supportive wife, children and grandchildren, but still struggles to find work or do daily tasks. I spoke to him after the presentation as he recognised me from somewhere - neither of us could think where, as we both amusingly observed our memories are crap. I felt ashamed of worrying myself into a state over a paltry little operation after all he's been through and is still coping with, but he said not at all, we're all in the same boat and he wishes me well.

These are the true heroes of our dysfunctional uncaring society.

After getting home I was understandably exhausted, but had to go out again as I'd promised to take S to bellydancing. I was too battered to take part, with my elephantine ankle and remnants of a cold/flu/whatever, so sat and watched. There was much hilarity when they started practising chest shimmies, and it became apparent she wasn't wearing a bra as it hurts her broken collarbone. A very well-endowed lady, the spectacle reminded me of two puppies fighting in a sack.