The nurse scans my vitals, and performs a daily blood pressure check; together we scrutinize my skin for abrasions, rashes, – anything that looks out of the ordinary. People remark its repetitive, beginning the day this way, but it’s nothing compared to the monotonous existence I inhabited before the trial. Pain and disability has a way of souring life. It’s like having to drink your tea cold all the time.
I’m buddied up with Deidre.
‘I’m paranoid about burning myself again’.
‘Just stay away from flames, it shouldn’t be that hard’
‘I can’t really avoid cooking. I’m terrified every time I go near the stove’
I’ve had several serious accidents myself. Last month I fell off my bike and fractured my ankle, but it was 3 days before I noticed something was wrong. My gait had become strange.
‘Why didn’t you come into A and E sooner?’
‘It’s a long story, I’m on a medical trial. I’ve had my brain stimulated so I can’t feel pain. I can do anything now. I can run, I can swim, I can fly a plane if want to’.
“Well you won’t be running any more, you may well have sustained permanent damage’
The consultant’s right, I’ve compromised my foot but it’s worth the hassle. Instead of my body being an obstacle it’s finally the vehicle it was always supposed to be. When I tell Deidre she is disapproving.
‘At the rate you’re going you’ll sustain an injury every 3 months.
‘Do you seriously want to go back to the way you were?’
Deidre had MS, she could barely walk either.
‘At least I could tell when there was something wrong. Look what happened to John, and Melanie’.
John was another patient on the trial who recently died. He’d been struck on the head by a falling object and died. Melanie had a similar accident and was in a coma.
‘You know I’ve made a decision. I’m going to ask for a reversal’
‘You want to go back to the way you were, Deidre?’
‘Yes, don’t you?’
‘No’
‘Even if it means dying younger because because you’ve can’t tell you’re sick or injured?’
‘No’
Silence engulfs us whilst Deidre stirs her coffee.
