What doesn’t kill you doesn’t kill you


I first started writing this in March and really struggled with it and thought hard about what it the point of sharing this in graphic detail. What I have ended up with is really a summary of an event and it’s consequences.  The pics in it say more than any words

I write these posts to show  part of what makes me the man I am. My experiences contribute layers to my personality.  Would I be the same guy without them?  Certainly not.I also now realise that I really write for me as it helps me understand myself. If  sharing helps others that is a real bonus.

and so……..

The long weekend in October 2009 was a different one for him. He had left his casual job on the Friday and was looking forward to spending some time focusing on getting a job that he thought better suited his skills and getting fit.

On the Sunday night, he went for dinner locally in Newtown with a couple of friends from the next suburb. They go back many years and were the best kind of company.  They enjoyed a few beers and a curry and something a little stronger a cocktail bar before saying goodbye. He hurried down a side street and took a path that cut through the corner of a park that led to his street. It’s what he always did, day and night.

The next he knew he was on the ground. He tried to stand and fell back on the bark padding at the base of the tree he found himself under. Help me, he cried out,not knowing how loud or how often he said the words. A woman passing on her bicycle stopped. Her name was Mercy (it really was) and he was me.

I asked her to help me home, which was only a few hundred metres away, not knowing how injured I really was. I got her to wake up my housemate and they soon called an ambulance for me. My housemate insisted I didn’t wash my face and took a couple of pics he gave to the police.

Below are four pics- they first is of the crime scene, the second two taken within an hour of the assault, and the fourth taken after I was out of hospital

I spent five days in intensive care, another five weeks recovering from broken ribs and longer from double vision. The local police took on my case for a year before letting me know they had to let it drop as no new evidence was found. Earlier DNA tests on my jeans and sweater, which had been cut off me in the hospital, and attempts to trace my missing phone found nothing.

The long term impact? In the beginning I liked to get home before the monsters came out. When I didn’t there were times I got spooked by shadows.  Those times are rare now.

Being a little vain I know exactly where the scars are on my face and the bones around my left eye still remind me that they were once broken.

Looking back at it nine years on I recall it was the support of friends that helped me cope with it all-That and the help provided by Endone for the first month or so.

I still cannot recall anything of what happened during the assault apart feeling something like an electric shock and then coming to on the ground. I am really glad of that.

The best piece of advice I was given during my recovery was “be good to yourself,it helps you heal”.  I can confirm it does.

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