The Journey Begins
I’ll pick up the story in 2014. My worsening, Poorly controlled Diabetes finally lived up to the predictions given me from numerous Doctors over the years and my ‘bomb-proof Body’ (or so I thought) led to me being hospitalised from Oct 2014- May 2015. Sparing you the uncomfortable detail, I was faced with a choice – Wise-up, eat healthy, go Tea-Total and lose the legs. My immune system was under attack, Blood thinning and disappearing, Live , Kidneys and Spleen ann about to give up and Gangrene in my feet and looking the same shade of yellow as Homer Simpson. Overall, Not good
The visit from the grim reaper, who rattled my hospital bed post, gave me the ‘Close up and personal introductory handshake Nightmare and the Genius’s and Angels of the NHS nursed me, healed me and as I a miracle was going on, gave me a second chance to be alive. With the support from my two Sons, Bradley and Harry, My ex-wife Mandy and an army of relatives and well-wishers, helped me find the inspiration I needed to make the choice to fight for my life.
A nurse had said to me as I was being prepared for my 9th and potentially terminal surgery ” I’m sorry, but you’ll never play Golf again so don’t get your hopes up! ” This was like a ‘Red rag to a bull’. The following recovery was hard and painful. The Wizards and Boffins at Manchester Prosthetics Centre, Sharston Wythenshawe, designed a pair of prosthetic legs tailored for the game of Golf, enabling me to learn to play again. My determination came good and I hit a ball again unaided before the end of summer 2015, and have evolved and adapted ever since. Those who know me and who’ve been there for me will testify to my dogged resolve and refusal to give in and accept failure.
I suppose I’m both very, very lucky and stubborn to accept defeat. Every day theres a new challenge, every day theres something to be achieved.