Who doesn’t wonder in awe at our bodies, what they can do and what we humans are capable of?
Run a marathon in less than 2 hours and create innovations like mobile phones and electric cars.
Admittedly such accomplishments are mainly the feats of other (more remarkable) people but nonetheless, all feats we can marvel at and enjoy for ourselves.
My body is more humble in its output and its accomplishments but within this meagre framework, it is remarkable too. In the last decade I have endured two bad accidents and without some good fortune I might easily not be around to write this post.
A scooter accident in 2012 which resulted in a compound fracture and my ankle bone making an appearance through my jeans and more recently, when I rolled a quad bike off a hillside, jeopardising my life and Paddy’s also.
(Both incidents recorded on this blog for those interested)
The quad bike was certainly a near death experience. I thought that I had broken my arm albeit this was not the case. The leg incident, although very nasty, it did provide me me with a long stand-up routine – although with hindsight, I wouldn’t have accepted such painful but lucrative terms as I set out for home from the top of that bloody hill. At a gig where I had recounted the tale, a surgeon approached me afterwards and was interested in how I had been treated on arrival at hospital, particularly in how they kept any infections at bay. I recounted that they poured copious amounts of iodine over my foot and he smiled fondly and then explained this had been my great fortune. He told me that an infection would have recurred throughout my life and would blight me forever. A near miss then?
A common theme of both these injuries is that they were entirely avoidable and completely and utterly my fault. Not that I need reminding of this but still… and now I come to the clever part of my body…
…on my ankle where the bone peeped through and on my wrist where I bore the weight of a quad bike, are two angry scars which seem intent on hanging around forever. Normally, I am a quick healer and injuries fade in to oblivion but not these two. Proud and visible, as though they are angry reminders of what an arse I can be and that I might look to be more careful in future.
So there we have it.
Okay, not a great physical virtue of mine. Certainly, not in the league of being able to cover 26 miles (and some…) in less than two flipping hours – but a constant reminder of my vulnerability and that I should proceed with caution.
As yet, no such visible comedy scars that might prevent me from my day/night job – where I risk death every time I take to the stage.
And it is fortunate then that emotional scars (of which I have plenty) are oblique and invisible – because this is how I make my living…