Open Writing

During the summer of 2000 Gavin Fox telephoned me to ask if I would like to accompany him on a cycle ride across Spain, primarily to visit the town of Lopera in the south; the scene of his uncle's death in 1936 during the Spanish Civil War. Towards the end of the four weeks ride I began to suffer pain in my lower back and it became difficult for me to get on and off my bike.

I went to see Wilf, an alternative medicine guy, when I returned to the UK. He had done wonders for me two years before when he solved my cramp problem by identifying certain mineral deficiencies. My back pain was getting worse. I received manipulation from Wilf which caused me so much pain that I found myself screaming out. "You've got a low pain threshold" he told me.

I began to dread making visits for treatment. I could barely walk the pain was so intense that I had to resort to using crutches. My family doctor conducted tests all to no avail and he prescribed pain killers. Attending Huddersfield Star Wheelers Christmas Dinner I was reduced to laying on a couch. One of the members told me of a physiotherapist in Slaithwaite. I paid him a visit just before Christmas. He gave me some treatment which eased the pain but he insisted that I consult my doctor straight after the holidays.

Spending the festive season with Jane was joyless. I spent the whole time laid out on her sofa unable to walk. By early January 2001 it was becoming apparent that I was probably going to be hospitalised to discover the problem and receive appropriate treatment. Ultimately an ambulance was called and I was admitted into Huddersfield Royal Infirmary.

As luck would have it, the mobile body scanner unit was on site for its weekly visit. I remember that it was a very cold day with heavy rain falling. The rain fell on me for a few seconds whilst being wheeled out of the hospital building to the mobile unit parked up in the car park. I was unable to lie still on my back owing to the acute pain. I was at my lowest point, attempting to remain completely still whilst X-rays were taken. Never did time pass so slowly as I fought to stay still. I had to ask the staff to delay their activities on numerous occasions whilst I sought relief from the pain which kept afflicting me with great frequency.

Later that day my right foot felt as if it was not part of my body. This coincided with the findings of the X-ray. It was a prolapsed disc; slipped disc in non-meical language. I was to be taken to Leeds General Infirmary that night. Further tests were conducted as soon as I arrived. Around midnight I was told that I was to have an operation the next morning.

I had a sleepless night. A long journey through the corridors of the LGI eventually found me in a room adjoining an operating theatre. My next recollection of events was hearing a voice "Eric; can you hear me?" Although I could feel a sensation in my back the pain I had been experiencing continuously for several weeks had disappeared.

Later that day Mary arrived; then a visit from Derrick Pashley to be followed by our good friends Ken and Suzanne Ogden. I was told that I would be discharged on the Saturday.

After lunch that day Chloe, Jane and John arrived with Mary to take me home. After a couple of months recuperating I was able to ride my bike sufficiently well for me to be able to book a couple of seats on the European Bike Express. The National Health Service had given me first rate service. It could not be faulted. Thanks to its staff I was back to leading a normal life.