There is no time anymore. It has all gone. I edit, I write, I edit again and write some more. This is what I do.
Also, because Mrs W is currently in Lanzarote, I provide a taxi service for my two sons. It's a very good one, from their point of view - it costs nothing. But from mine, it eats up my ever-diminishing reserves of time even more.
So, too, does sorting out my stupid neck. However, illumination is now mine. According to Mr P, the Derriford neurosurgeon who operated on me last December, the latest MRI scan reveals that the disc beneath the one that was removed is awry. Like the last one, at C4, that at C5 is now causing spinal cord compression. Hence, then, the return of the stupid left leg, the onset of stupid electric shocks in the stupid left hand, the arrival of a new but very stupid shaking condition in my left arm, and, presumably so that the right-hand side of my body does not feel left out, some stupidity in the right leg, too.
On top of all this, I have a lot of clonus, an excellent, not-stupid-at-all hyper-sensitivity in my leg and foot reflexes. This comes on when I am excited, for example when watching QPR, reading Hungarian literature or swinging naked from the chandelier. It is most annoying.
Mr P, as he is known, was all set to recommend another op - yes, a re-enactment of last year's jamboree - but was dissuaded when I told him that, curiously enough, my symptoms had settled down in the last few days. There remains a a degree of stupidity but things are nowhere near as unintelligent as they were a few weeks ago. This being the case, said Mr P, it may be that the stupid C5 disc had moved by a fraction, into hitherto mentally pellucid territory. Suitably refreshed, it was not liable to cause so much stupidity.
I was happy to take this, and left Derriford last Tuesday with an inane, self-delusional smile on my face. It took just a day for the stupidity to return, and for me to sigh and resign myself to the likelihood of another most wonderful op.
Meantime, can I surf? Can I do any exercise? And how long before the other discs which are rubbish - those at C6 and C7 - also cause problems?
I derived some assistance in answering these questions from Becky Duncan, a physiotherapist who specialises in neurological disorders. I saw Becky today and she was very helpful. Here's what seems to be the score:
1. Surfing is highly problematic. Paddling out, with my neck raised in the standard surfers' position, has not been easy since I came back to surfing a few months ago. You'll know this if you've seen me surfing at Sennen or Gwenver: I'm the one who lies flat on his board on the way out back, sometimes with a face contorted with pain. However, paddling out is not just painful, it's dangerous. It further impinges the spinal cord and the passage of nerves. Worst case scenario: doing this causes partial or full paralysis.
Then there's the impact of all that oceanic energy - water on my head, say when paddling out, or if I come off my board. Or, at Spot M, if I hit my head on the reef. This is potentially catastrophic. Yes, good old partial or full paralysis.
2. Other exercise. Football is over, once and for all. I played a couple of games in the summer, just to see if I could, but a stupid left leg wreaks havoc on the old adage that form is temporary, class permanent. Nowadays, I am permanently unclassy and forever destined to be out of form. But rather more pertinently, all the contact, stop-start movements and jolting in football are very dangerous for a man of my stupidity.
Boxing is OK. The medics say I can do this as much as I like.*
Running is OK, so long as I remember I've got a stupid left leg and consciously lift it to avoid foot drop. Swimming is good, though not breast stroke (too much neck extension). Cycling is OK, though not on a racing bike (ditto). Walking the dogs is good, skateboarding would be mad, eating lots of pies is fantastic.
* That is a lie. Although, amazingly enough, I have been given the all clear to resume boxing training, and have been to St Just ABC a few times lately. I couldn't ever spar again but I am loving hitting the hell out of the bags.
3. General Outlook. Not great, but then again, how long is a piece of string? My neck could get worse any day, or it might stay as it is for another 20 years. The latter scenario is, admittedly, unlikely.
Conclusion.
The overwhelming, all-but-irrefutable decision I have to make is to give up surfing. What is the point of risking a few waves if I lose the ability to walk? I sure as hell wouldn't look back on those last couple rides and, from my wheelchair, say: "I'm so glad I went for that surf."
How do I feel about this? And about the likehihood of more surgery, sooner or later?
I thank my lucky stars that I am up and about, albeit stupidly. Things could have ended up a lot worse. I came back to surfing post-discectomy and did get some lovely waves. I'm grateful to Mr P and the medical profession for this, and for catching my myelopathy in the nick of time, so that things didn't go drastically wrong last year. And, from the likes of Melanie Reid, whose Spinal Column in The Times every Saturday is superb, to the soldiers Russ Pierre and Rich Emerson work with through Surf Action, I know very well that there are people out there who make my situation look like a walk in the park.
But I'm also gutted.
And it may be that I'm just that little bit too stupid to walk away from surfing.
Pictured courtesy of Gifbin: a stupid form of surfing.
