I have been confined to a bed for 1 week and 1 day and its hell.

The first few days I didn't really eat or drink. Both cause the pain was so bad but also due to the humiliation of having to urinate in a bottle. Going in the bottle wasn't the bad thing, what was hard to deal with was asking the nurse to empty it. Now that time has past I'm getting used to it and think well its got to happen, but to start with I felt so bad for the nurses that they had to do that.in fact I felt so bad that the nurses had to take any personal care for me I didn't brush my teeth for most days in hospital unless one of my visiting friends was thoughtful enough to paste up my brush and bring me a cup and bowl. My sponge baths were something I did and when I was finally able to get out of bed using the Rolator (a big version of the granny push trolly) I insisted on showering myself and even getting onto the bench alone.

Although after my first shower when I did get back to bed and spent over an hour trying I had to call the nurse to get help dressing again. It was a big break though in my mind. Finally I had cracked and then felt less embarrassed about asking for my bottles to be emptied and my tooth care equipment to be sorted out. Which was a great relief as the drugs I was on made me so thirsty my moth had felt like the Nullarbor Plain.

My doctor was amazing, well he hardly spoke and visited me at 6am in the mornings prior and just after my surgery which is just when the heavy medication is taking effect after waking up in agony at 5am, but what he did to the pain was incredible. The accident happened on Saturday morning and my surgery was at 6:30pm on Monday and all that time I was in excruciating pain except for the half hour after the morphine injections. Then after surgery it was like all the pain was cut in half...though I was still a sook about it.

Actually I didn't let myself be too much of a crybaby, every time the pain became unbearable I thought of my mother. Only 2 months ago she and my Dad transported a truckload of bulls out to my farm, after unloading them on the side of a earthen water tank bank Mum tried to snap a few photos (they were very very expensive Black Angus Stud Bulls) then she accidentally slipped her foot down an old cow hoof hole (its when during rain the red earth on the ridge is muddy and the cow hoof makes a deep imprint but hardens up like rock as soon as the sun comes out).  As the bulls then came towards her she twisted and fell badly breaking her leg and ankle in 3 places. Unfortunately, neither of my folks had their mobile phones (yes there is coverage on that particular ridge) and were there only in the cattle truck, and mum wouldn't let dad head off and leave her there in the middle of the outback alone to get help. So my 77 year old dad dragged her up the earthen bank reversed the truck as close as he could and wrestled her into the back. Not only was she laying in a mass of bull shit and urine, but large thick 20cmX20cm grates to give the livestock grip on the metal floor. It would have been horrific, add to this the fact the roads had been churned up by the cattle and were rough as guts. She survived the hour or so journey back to the Homestead where they were met by and ambulance (halfway home dad was able to stop some road workers and phone 000). She was taken by the flying doctor then to Toowoomba Airport where the ambulance officers that met her accidentally whacked her trolley into the ambulance door, in between two said objects was her broken ankle, lets just say there were dogs back at the station thought they were in trouble and the poor ambulance officers thought they'd killed her.

 So you see me having ambulance arrive with a half hour and been taken direct under care to Queensland's best Private Hospitals I didn't have much to complain about when it came to pain.

Visiting Mum in hospital I felt so helpless, that I couldn't help her and that here was this super active woman and the glue of our farming operation stuck in a bed. It couldn't have come at a worse time for my parents as their busiest season, the wheat harvest occurs in November.

Visiting her again at the Homestead I could see she felt like a caged kelpie (well just like Rosie my kelpie who  had surgery for a ripped leg muscle and was confined to her kennel). It was terrible to see. She has been that way for 2 months and now, Like Mother Like Son I am dealing with a similar torture.

Mum offered for me to return to the homestead and recuperate with her there as she had one of my sisters nursing her after my release from hospital. However I think I would have gone crazy there, being with in cooee of all the action and work needing to be done and also being an added burden on a household already strained from the rigors of the harvest and its added needs to supply meals to all the truckies, header and chaser bin operators....no thanks I passed (and can you imagine having your sister take out your urine bottles....).

I am very lucky to have so many close mates ,one has welcomed me into his home and looks after my every need, many others kept me company during the day bring me magazines, DVD, useful items to make life easier, make my meals, wash me and most importantly make me very aware that I am loved and mean something to them.

Its very humbling to be in this situation and  it's very educational. Whilst never hesitating to do anything asked of me by my mates, I have always been reluctant to call on friends to do things for me, unless of course its farm work ;). Learning to ask others for help is something I have always had trouble with and often got into trouble for doing too much on my own. Maybe this is a very elaborate ploy by the universe to learn me a lesson.