As I draft this post I’m casually sat in the cafe enjoying my own company below Alfie’s doggy daycare room. I have just dropped him off for a day of fun and I’m now enjoying pancakes and an oat milk flat white.
This is my new drink of choice and it makes Chris roll his eyes as he try’s to out Northern me. I can hear him referring to Yorkshire Tea or something.
Whilst I’m a little slower at the moment mobility wise no one would guess what had happened to me. The fake glasses are off as I try to make my eyes work together.
I’m sat here quietly hiding the trauma and upset. Like so many of us at different stages of our lives.
I’m not wearing a sign stating “warning this lady’s son has been killed and she has a brain injury approach with care”, which at first I felt I had. Well I felt I needed to although I assumed everyone would just know pitifully looking at me anyway.
I remember sitting on my own in a Pret a few weeks after my Dad died (who I’ve never needed as much as I do now) and I felt I was equally covering up so much pain and in need of a caution sign.
But we don’t have these signs they just become part of our life armour as we carry on bravely.
As I type and pull my thoughts together I realise despite me looking more like me my struggle of who I am is on going... Who am I?
"Who am I?"
Still the girl with the good hair, it’s an ongoing commitment centred around consistency. Ironically, this nicely summarises my rehab and physio journey so far. I won’t discuss Chris’ additional terror when the doctors told him they needed to shave a very small section of my hair. Luckily this has grown back and is not noticeable.
But good hair or not, nobody wants to be the mamma of the baby killed. But I am.
"It’s agonisingly painful but I refuse to forget her and my life with Louis."
So now I’m constantly torn between drawing a line under the previous Rachael and my life and putting it all in the too hard pile. It’s agonisingly painful but I refuse to forget her and my life with Louis.
Still torn between putting a blanket over me and closing myself off and thinking I’m not hiding for anyone.
Who would I be making it easier for anyway?
But luckily my persistent self wins. Pancakes it is.
Now I just need to find an answer to the question I was asked recently at yet another ‘test’, ‘what will you be like in 5 years time?’.
"I don’t know, I just want to get better"
Hmm good question. I have a broken and heavily damaged body, soul and heart but I’m likely to be able to run outside in a year so when I achieve that I might have an answer for you.
But I’m too polite and probably too English to say that. So I just mumble ‘I don’t know, I just want to get better’.
Oddly grating cheese, you probably don’t realise how advance this is and how many muscles in your fingers, hand, wrist and arm are involved.
On the topic of dinner we headed out on a Friday night for dinner for a 20:15 reservation! And recently a 21:15 table!! This is a definite increase in latest for me. Its so nice to move from the early bird setting.
I’m still standing, Elton John. Another golden oldie.
You could never know what it’s like…
….But you know I’m still standing
The Louis Thorold Foundation is a charity registered in England and Wales with the aim of preventing all deaths of children on Britain's roads. For more information about our campaigns or to make a donation visit www.louisthorold.com.