19th December - Two legs are best, but they are not always that reliable

It was 11pm and my partner, Ness, was due the next day for a two week visit for Christmas, I had to pick her up from the airport and I was so excited I could have pee'd myself. The weather had turned cold, and it's not unusual to have -10C overnight, but this night was -2C. The stars were refracting their blazing light from every inch possible of the sky, and the moon glowed, throwing the most immensely beautiful light, warming the look of the chilly fields, roof tops and lanes around. Other than that, my paltry, inefficient but sentimentally attached to me torch was the only other light source guiding my route.

On my little journey to the caravan, upon entering I realise that Chance, (one of my boys) did not have any water. Due to his newly discovered heart condition he drinks almost as much as I do, but water, not wine. I popped the boys into the caravan with the heater blasting making it so very cosy. My normal trip to the tap is not overly far, is on a slight slope but would appear now that it was fraught with danger.

On the way down I glanced at the pile of logs that I thought I must clear tomorrow, in case it snows. I must have missed seeing the most enormous blade of grass because I tripped over it and slipped down the tiny slope at the highest point, my foot went underneath me and then my whole weight crashed down onto my leg at an angle that made it snap like a dry stick, and the sound of it shot into the darkness like a canon. In fact, I heard three snaps, which presumably was my fibular breaking in three stages. My screams and swearing lit up the skyline in a blue haze. My torch had gone out, and I was alone on the frosted floor, wondering what the bloody hell I was going on. I had hoped that my neighbour had heard my cries, but she did not come. Strange things go through one's head when you are in such immense pain. My thoughts turned to my dogs that were alone in the caravan and Chance would be waiting for his water.

No one heard me scream, and unless I could haul myself up I knew that if I laid there for much longer I would get hypothermia and probably die. I had no idea how long I had been there, so somehow I got myself up. Now, they say when pedestrian victims of car accidents are struck they have been known to act out their last thought and punch their perpetrator before dropping down dead. I suspect before I hit the deck the water bottle and the importance of it was my last thought so I convinced myself that I had only sprained my ankle and carried on with my duty, hopped to the tap, filled the bottle with water and hopped 30 yards up hill to the caravan got up the step put the water in the bowl, got a elasticated bandage from the cupboard and sat on my bed.

I thought that if I just put my leg up overnight in a bandage then it would be alright in the morning and I would probably limp for a while. Then I looked at my leg. The swelling was colossal, and I thought Ness would kill me if I didn't get some ice on it and do the 'proper thing'. I wasn't looking forward to this, my trip was about 150 yards down to the neighbour's house, down the slope, down concrete steps and on the road but I managed and banged fully on the door. She was down the stairs in a flash and had me sitting in the chair and ice around my ankle before I knew where I was.

The most humiliating thing for me was being ferried in a wheel chair through the hospital wards to the emergency reception. Plus, I had my work gear on and was covered in sawdust and mud having chopped a lot of logs that day. The one thing I do when I am nervous is talk a lot, and I can come up with any subject, but when the x-ray was shown to me and I could see the gap where bone should be, it finally hit me what I had done. I was silenced. Then my whole body went into shock and I started to shake uncontrollably.

The following day, after two hours sleep I hopped again, from my neighbour's gite to the cottage to 'phone Ness to tell her that I would not be driving that afternoon to collect her. There was no time to organise anything. She had to get a taxi from the airport, a cost of 150 Euros, but at no time did she complain. It was a surreal situation. My neighbour went to the pharmacy and picked up hundreds of boxes of drugs and a set of crutches. Walking on these bloody things is more impossible than stilts and I fell over about 5 times trying to negotiate simple items, like the rug or a door.

My strict instructions were to rest my leg and put it up to help the swelling, sleeping was a nightmare with cushions balanced on the end of the bed, blankets wrapped around trying to cover all the bits that get freezing overnight when not covered. Difficult to do, with two dogs hogging the covers at the same time. However annoying my dibilitated state was, I was cooked for and waited on, driven around wherever I wanted to go for a whole week, and by week two I was walking on the cast without crutches. Five weeks down the line, cast is off and my Captain Hook impression is over. The French hospital staff were fantastic, the locals; people I hardly knew came from all directions offering assistance, gifting me groceries, organising and taking me to hospital appointments and generally making sure I had everything I needed.

I am a great believer that with every negative, it is possible to draw a positive. I had to look hard to find why I had been incapacitated in such a harsh environment, where it was necessary for me to be active and fit to manage just to stay warm at the least. It didn't take me long to find it. And what I found is that for two people who had drifted slightly apart found that they could again work together as a team and discover hidden treasures about each other that had been buried deep, coated in the armour created by a life not being richly lived and not following that heart path. I feel if you have a sound foundation it is better to work with what you have than to look elsewhere thinking that life will be more rewarding, because it won't.

I am glad I broke my leg, and you have to be me to understand why on earth I would say that.