Just under four years ago..on a day like any other day my husband went to work as usual.  He came home five months later, in a wheelchair.   

In ten days time on October 13^th, we hit our four year accident milestone and like the previous three years we will be celebrating with our best friends our ‘happy to be alive’ anniversary. 

We won’t be at home.  We decided that we will not drive that road on that day again..ever.  So far it’s been Vegas, Coventry, Cromer...this year it’s London.  In the beginning it was avoiding being anywhere near on that day completely.   Now we’ve moved on and we prove to ourselves each year that we can come home on that day and that life really has moved on!

The day was like any other, we’d been niggling at each other over something silly for a couple of days, the way that married couples with big mortgages, stressful jobs and kids and dogs do...but for some reason that morning I kissed Peter goodbye,  told him I loved him and that things would be ok. 

The next time I saw him was in an ambulance as he swore at the very attractive paramedic about the route they should take to our local hospital.  The one that didn’t involve crossing the railway lines!

I was sorting the usual morning chaos at home when Emmeline, our daughter then aged ten, answered the phone to a man called Terry.  He informed me that my husband had hit his car.  A fact I later found out to be true, but only because he’d stuck his car across the middle of the road in front of Peter who happened to be travelling about 50 miles an hour!  He told me Peter seemed to be ok, he was conscious and speaking to the first aider and that an ambulance had been called.  Of course I did what every loving and devoted wife would have done in that situation.  I got in the shower and washed my hair!  I then packed him a little bag with some pjs and a clean hanky etc just in case they kept him in hospital overnight. 

I don’t think I cried at all that day.  I stood with my hand on Peter’s chest channelling me into him.  At some point a consultant told me his spinal cord was virtually severed and it was unlikely he would ever walk again. 

Oh ok!  I think that was my reaction.  Nothing more nothing less...no hysteria or wailing...I  think I cried more at the film Marley and Me when the dog died.

 You see it just wasn’t important.  My husband was alive..that was enough.  I could so easily have lost him and I hadn’t.  He was alive, and nothing else mattered!

We are lucky enough to live about ten minutes from one of the top hospitals in the country, so Peter was looked after well in the A&E department.  They decided to operate and sent us home to await news.  I never contemplated that he wouldn’t make it.  I thought about the fact they’d cut off one of his best suits, about the fact he had been wearing all the right gear with a proper backboard in his jacket and the right helmet.  None of these things stopped the damage to his back, but in hindsight they were what saved his life.  So kids, when you just nip out on your pushbike...wear your helmet!

Peter was making a habit of keeping me waiting in stressful situations.  In July the same year he went missing in the London 7/7 bombings for three hours.  I didn’t know where he was or what had happened to him.  He survived that and he was going to survive this!  To cut a long story short, that afternoon, our dogs got a fabulously long walk, my Mum got a manicure and I raised the share price and profits in both Tetley and BT quite substantially!

The next few days I spent at the Addenbrooke’s Hospital flitting in and out..helping the hugely understaffed nurses on the neuro ward to look after Peter and listening to him telling me how many of the other male Alzheimer’s patients had tried to get into bed with him overnight. 

The night of day four was when Peter lost it.  The enormity of what had happened hit him hard.  Morphine had dulled it to that point but his little happy pump had been taken away and the demons had moved in!  The hospital tried to call to ask me to come in to calm him down, but I was having a good old chat with my sister so they couldn’t get through...eventually they got my Dad out of bed and he drove over and knocked on the door and took me in. 

Far from being a difficult situation to deal with, it was quite easy.   On the morning of Peter’s accident, three motorcyclists were brought in to A&E and I watched those other two families go through the same as us.  One of them died, Peter didn’t .  It was as simple as that.

Two days later Peter was moved to the NSIC at Stoke Mandeville.  Again we were very lucky, I know some people wait a while in regional hospitals before being transferred.  I went in the ambulance with him and then suddenly realised I hadn’t got a clue where Stoke Mandeville was in the country!  I’d heard about all about it but had no idea where we were headed.  Luckily the ambulance staff did!

As I walked through those doors I felt relieved.  We were in a place where they knew what to do, where they knew how to look after him.  We were seen by a consultant on admission who very helpfully told Peter he would be able to continue with a lot of his pre accident activities such as skiing, driving, bungee jumping (something he has never, nor ever intends to do!)  We were admitted to a quiet private side ward for a few days while MRSA checks were done.  It was absolute bliss after the chaos of Addenbrookes...all we had for company were the machines that told us about pulse and oxygen levels etc and a dreadful tv signal.  We had to talk to each other!   

I stayed in a relative’s room down the hall, and the next morning I had a minor wobble.  I remember going down to the concourse at Stoke Mandeville in search of a cup of tea and being buzzed from all side with wheelchairs..electric, manual and some with people laying flat out on their front...I stood in the middle of that room and cried until I was rescued by two very kindly ladies who made me tea and showed me round.

I spent the next five months of my life making that 150 mile round trip.  Never quite sure where I should be...with our kids at home, with Peter in hospital? 

I am so glad that the new family counselling service has been set up to support people who need it at a difficult time...our story unfortunately was a real let down and was one of the very few negative things about our time at Stoke Mandeville.  Our councillor who shall remain nameless was fresh out of college, with no concept of family life, children, dogs, washing, a Tesco’s family shop or why I would miss having someone to change a light bulb!  She asked me about my coping strategies..my answer?...I am!  She informed us that our counselling would be confidential unless either one of us informed her that we were going to harm ourselves or each other...then she would have to report it.  When I told her that she could just ignore the fact I wanted to kill my children at least twice a week and that when I said I was going to put a pillow over Peter’s head I really didn’t mean it....she laughed..nervously...and I’m sure made notes! 

Anyway we just got on with it. We still laughed, moaned, cried together..and it was great, because we still could.  I hadn’t lost my husband, our kids hadn’t lost their Dad.  He could still talk to us and put his arms round us.  To quote Emmeline’s infamous comment to our local newspaper...my Dad’s got wheels instead of legs...so what?

Just prior to Peter’s discharge Cameron organised a black tie ball to raise money for the SIA and St Joseph’s ward at the NSIC.  He wrote to all Peter’s business contacts, organised a big band, a youth choir and himself got up in front of his Dad as a surprise and sang ‘You raise me up’ which was Peter’s anthem whilst in Stoke Mandeville.  We raised seventeen thousand pounds and could have sold the tickets twice over.  Three years on we are still pestered as to when the next one will be!

Peter was discharged in early March 2006 to a house that on the face of it was large for a family, but felt like a caravan with all the wheelchairs and other equipment in it!  The discharge team made a very short notice decision that he would be allowed home but we grabbed the opportunity, rallied the troops and within the hour there were eight of our closest friends on our doorstep armed with spanners and within a short space of time had moved our bedroom downstairs, our dining room upstairs, put up curtains for privacy and built ramps for accessibility.

Our friends and families have been amazing.  Peter had 150 cards wishing him well from them, our community and work colleagues.  You do realise in this situation though who your true friends are.  Some of ours couldn’t handle the situation and left our lives, but some entered it too. The first aider who was three cars behind at the accident has become one of our closest friends.  Previously peripheral friends have become close and without their support we really wouldn’t be where we are now.

The man who caused Peter’s injuries went to court and was charged with not driving with due care and attention, was fined £400 and given the equivalent points of two speeding fines.  I hope every morning as he approaches that junction he looks again.  We do, as do all our friends and everyone else who knows us.  A positive thing is the awareness as to how easily ‘accidents’ can happen. 

Peter was hit by a fully insured driver and very shortly after arriving at Stoke Mandeville we met Ed Fletcher from Fletchers Solicitors.  As Ed is in a chair himself we felt he could bring a perspective and extra understanding to our legal fight.  My goodness he didn’t know what he was letting himself in for!  He introduced us to an incredible team of people, who listened to us.  They may not have agreed with us and at times we really didn’t agree with them but we worked together and in December last year we finally settled our claim.  We really are very grateful to Ed and his team for working with us, not for us, but with us, to allow us to carry on our lives to our utmost best given our changed circumstances.  And live it we do...but Cameron will fill you in on that bit!

Following a chance comment by a friend of a friend we came upon Project Walk. The lure of a possible improvement in his condition (or was it the Californian sunshine) led Peter and I to trek some 5,500 miles to San Diego in October 2006.  We went with hope and trepidation, and to be honest a certain amount of English cynicism, regarding the possibility of ‘recovery’.  There was no medical intervention, no needles, no operations, just damn hard work to be done in the gym! 

We left two weeks later, inspired both mentally and physically and with the additional goal of bringing the concept of Project Walk to the UK.

On our return from San Diego Peter continued his exercise plan at home.  Repetitive exercise, thousands and thousands of times, some with a trainer, some done alone.  His body had known how to walk for forty years, he wasn’t going to let it forget.  He had to re-educate his nervous system, to form new pathways to reroute signals, bypassing the damaged areas.   The slight changes made to his routine on an ongoing basis keep his body awake and alert.  His physical and mental gains have been enormous.  He has hope.  It is a managed and limited hope, but is hope and a goal just the same. 

Working at the programme has allowed him to remain free of medication for spasms, with increased muscle tone and bulk.  He has none of the side effects of anti spasmodic medications, nor has he had to endure further invasive procedures to control these.  His core stability has improved both his posture and strength. With the increased muscle tone his skin has remained healthy and he has not experienced any of the skin issues so many SCI patients are prone to. He’s not sitting on his bones quite so much! His cardio vascular fitness has improved and he is able to pick things up from the floor and sit up again without holding on to outside structures, he can balance unaided on any surface, his transfers have improved and in an emergency, he could just about crawl.  To the able bodied a fairly simple movement, but in the event of a fire, something that could save his life! 

Irrelevant of our age, financial status, fitness, spinal cord injured or not, we all set ourselves goals, some attainable, some beyond the realms of possibility.  He was never going to be content to literally just sit out his time in this world.  He nearly lost his life and he is damn sure he is going to make the best of what he has left!  Peter accepts he will never run round the garden or play football again, but his goal is to stand unaided for transferring in and out of the car, or dressing…..only a paralysed individual or their carers would understand what a difference that would make to life! 

Project Walk and now the UK version Standing Start is all about what you can do, not what you can’t.  There is no negativity.  The goals and levels of accomplishment are yours and yours alone; Peter & I have been witness to many, many great achievements.  The testimonials on the website are from real people, ordinary individuals who have had an SCI thrust upon them as they have been carrying out their normal day.  Over the course of our visits we have met many of these people and have shared their amazing stories.

We were brave enough and financially able to travel to the other side of the USA, many others do not have that good fortune.  Following three further visits Standing Start opened its first facility in the UK on December 1st 2008.  Staffed by qualified physiotherapists trained in the Project Walk methods, our centre is located in Cambridgeshire, and is hopefully accessible to all.

We have worked hard together to bring this dream to a reality..just as we work hard together every day to make the most of the life we have now. 

Don’t get me wrong some days are good and some days are bloody awful!  When Peter completed the Dad’s egg and spoon race at Emmie’s first sports day following discharge, he received a standing ovation from the kids and adults alike.  When he stood up and walked with a walking frame and help from his trainers at Project Walk it was one of the most incredible and moving things I have ever seen.  To me those steps beat Neil Armstrong hands down.  Those are the days that make changing the bed four times in a night when he has a uti worthwhile. 

What do I miss?  More than anything I miss dancing.  Peter and I used to dance twice a week and I my father was a championship dancer so it runs in the family.  We both love Strictly Come Dancing and are avid watchers now rather than participants, that hurts both of us.  We still try and do what we can, to the point where some other men at a party we were at, fetched chairs to sit on the dance floor next to Peter because he was getting far more attention from the ladies than they were.

Our sense of humour has got us through these past years.  Peter loves to part the waves in crowds by shouting ‘make way for the cripple.’  Or has been seen buying light fittings in John Lewis by telling a shop assistant that he wants that one.  She laughed, then thought she shouldn’t be laughing which made it even more amusing!  We make the most of our disabled and carers tickets at concerts and sporting events.  Peter’s been in the front row for the Spice Girls and has a hot date with Miss Beyonce Knowles in November...of course only because Emmie wants to go!  My Dad is always at the front of queue for Spurs and Cup Final tickets and Cameron and Peter are often seen at Twickenham for the Rugby.  However I had to draw the line at harnessing two cocker spaniels to his wheelchair to re enact the chariot race round the garden after he’d been to see Ben Hur!

We have met some incredible people along the way and I would like to dedicate the end of this speech to them.  Through their courage and determination they achieved great things and left a legacy of strength in all. 

The first is a young man called Matthew Schoof.  We met him and his family on our first trip to Project Walk.  He was 24 years old when he fell asleep at the wheel of his car after helping a friend late into the night and crashed off the road.  He declared a T8 complete.  We stayed in touch with Matt and his family and watched his progress in awe.  He worked hard and had great faith in the exercise programme.  We last saw Matt able to stand and walk with a frame something he’d been told he would never do.  He was determined to make the most of what he had but was extremely humble and caring towards every one he met.  We had hoped that when Standing Start staged their official opening he would be able to be there as our guest of honour as he was our inspiration to drive the project forward and Peter’s embodiment of what he hoped to achieve through his exercising.  Sadly this was not meant to be as Matt was killed in another car accident just before Christmas last year.  His smile, encouragement and infectious determination is missed by all of us. 

The second and probably more personally important icon to me was my Mum, who was diagnosed with multiple brain tumours in January 2006, three months after Peter’s accident.  She was always there for me and was my rock to lean on.  When I really wanted to shout at Peter and the world, Mum copped it..cos that’s what us Mums do! Mum died in May 2006 three days after Peter and I moved in to the new house that Fletchers had secured for us.  We were safe, Peter was home and she could let go.

I don’t want to bring everyone down with the thoughts of these two people. 

I am so proud that as a result of the accident we knew Matt and I think my Mum would have been proud of Peter and I, our family and friends for our achievements and teamwork since the accident.

When life really does get tough and you think your carer’s badge, wings and halo have slipped well off centre, just remember that Peter and I can’t talk to Matt and Mum any more, but we still have each other, just as you still have each other. 

Our lives are not determined by what happens to us, but how we react to what happens.

Not by what life brings to us but by the attitude we bring to life.

A positive attitude causes a chain reaction of positive thoughts, events and outcomes.

It is a catalyst...

A spark that creates extraordinary results.