As my strength grew I became more determined to do things myself. I would shuffle around the bed on my elbows, doing the physiotherapy I had been taught to do in bed.
But still i was in a warm, stuffy bed, and the windows wouldn't open fully for safety. So i could only watch from my bed as nurses stuck their hands out complaining of the heat.
Then i got my wheelchair, My skin still felt like it was sun burnt but i was determined to get in that chair and wheel myself to the toilet. It was painfull and slow going but i did it, no more bed pans!
As the days passed and more friends visited i convinced each one to come with me to Ben Nevis next year.
I wasn't frightened that i had lost my leg because of the brilliant prosthetics i knew was out there and could wait to get well enough to use one.
Then when my parents came next i asked them to taken me outside, that blast of fresh air when the outside doors opened was wonderful, and just to sit there feeling the sun on my face made all little petty things in the world pale in to insignificance. I sat there as long as i could just feeling the sun, and sighing and every day after that i would wheel myself down the ward and out side.
Physiotherapy kept making their rounds and tried getting me to stand on my foot, trying to slowly build up the muscle. I was told i could loose the last three toes as they were badly damaged and black, and physio didn't want me baring weight on them.
But stubborn as i am i kept rubbing them, working life back into them, and then i had a cast made so that i could bare weight. Once i was able to stand i kept practising everyday, and then one day i saw a zimmer frame in the bed bay next to me and used that to stand up with.
I then began hopping up and down the ward and told the nurses who saw me not to tell physio. He soon found out though but was amazed at how fast i was progressing.
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