The Fear - The Book | Page 4 | Vital Football

The Fear - The Book

LOL the devil ooooooh yam starting GT off again watch out.

Do you get that spinning a lot Fear dude, or is it spontaineous, i hate it when i feel giddy so must be tough.
 
Yeah, if I'm standing, the world moves a bit differently for me than what should be normal!!

Can be a bit disorientating in crowds. I tend to put my head down and just walk, I will only move for old people, the rest can move out of my way!!
 
Must be tough that, its about time they got this stem cell research sorted bloody out, supposed to be cracking things like this now, always the good ens ay it that have to battle through life, gets me wicked seeing some of the little chavs round by me not realising what they have got instead of just appreciating there health they take it for granted, this life is backwards ive always thought it!
 
Yeah,me very time they think they have sussed the stem cells, they apparently find yet another layer.

They may well suss it for arthritis damage etc but won't be my lifetime for brain stuff. Also, the damage I have and the cavity formed can't really be reversed I don't think.

Watched Elysium (sp) film the other week. They had a healing machine. I'd like one of them!! :3:
 
I bet the rich elite buggers have something more advanced than we do i bet my bottom dollar on it, Elysium not seen it yet, we could always kidnap a top techological geek and tell him he is free when he builds one of them elysium machines? Just a thought like.
 
Wow, I enjoyed reading that. Some of the comments here were equally as moving. You're a top man Jonathan. :14:
 
Still working on the book, it is at the stage now where my proposal is done, being sent to agents, few coals in the fire with publishers as well. It's the difficult part this!

Editing it at the moment because it's too long, so got to chop chop chop.

Amazing how, when reading, some things make my eyes water straight away.


So, I’m lying there on a bed, in a gown, looking resplendent in my long anti-clogging socks up to my thighs, and needles slowly being inserted in order to administer the anaesthetic. I’d been asked the usual questions to check my identity once again and I signed the consent form, my hospital bracelet - that bloody bracelet - was checked and we were ready. The brain specialist pops in to say hi and reassure me and then the words “count backwards from 100” are uttered by the anaesthetist. So it begins, 100, the anaesthetic is administered, 99, the warm stinging sensation, 98, of the drug, 97, entering the bloodstream, 96, the buzzing in the ears, 95, people standing over me, 94, and your thoughts slowly slipping away, 93, I’m wondering what is to follow, 92, and if I would wake up again, 91 eyes shut, 90,



OUT……..



The rest was up to the specialist and his team, and if you believe in Him, then maybe the man upstairs also has a part to play. My faith is non-existent, although I think I had some then.



Some seven or so hours later - “Jonathan?” I heard from what sounded like some distance. “Jonathan?” someone repeats, louder this time. “Jonathan?” the voice echoes in my head.



What is that noise? Who is shaking me? Should I open up my eyes? Not sure I should, I am so tired and God I’m hot.



“Jonathan?” the voice says again. “You are ok. The operation went well,” she said.

“You are in intensive care, we are looking after you, don’t worry, just relax.”



I open my eyes. The room is spinning and the nurse looks fuzzy - is there one or two there? What is that pounding in my head? What is that on my face making me sweat? I raise my hands and remove the oxygen mask covering my mouth and nose.



“Jonathan, keep that on, it is helping you get some oxygen,” says the nurse, putting it back on.
 
After operations (and once you start to gain some sort of consciousness), time seems to go backwards when you are lying in intensive care. You can’t really interact, you can’t sit up and read or watch TV; all you can do is lie there and feel uncomfortable. Well, uncomfortable is a bit of an understatement - I was in agony. Tick-tock, tick-tock, you can almost count the hours and minutes. Tick-tock, tick-tock, sweating, fan buzzing, head blurred, room spinning, pain increasing as the anaesthetic was wearing off, banging and laughing from the nurses, groans from other patients, relatives talking in whispered voices that come through my ears as if they were using loud hailers, and the oxygen mask irritating my nose. Yup, the full joys of being in intensive care.



Still, I knew it wouldn’t last forever. All you have to do – in fact, all you can do – is lie there and attempt to relax and wait for it all to be over. Not that easy when your head is pounding and you don’t know what year it is, let alone the time, but as there is no other choice, you do it. I have the ability to put myself into ‘another room’ in my mind - I seem to be able to remove myself just slightly from the reality and grind through these situations, which is just as well with my operation history.
 
:grinning:

Needless to say, the next time I was out, I walked into a door and conceded that maybe a walking stick would be a good idea. Then I discovered to use a walking stick, you need a fairly good grip, something I no longer had. Luckily I found a specific type with a flat top that I would rest my hand onto slightly easier. I also got a claret-coloured tennis racquet grip for it and added a blue bit to match the famous claret and blue of the mighty Aston Villa.
 
Thoughts? Got another person editing my book after JPA and Rob Bishop very kindly proof read.

I'm quite attached to my start ............. her feedback in red

Prologue



As the words came tumbling out of the specialist’s mouth – “Sorry to say you’ve got Syringomyelia and you will require brain surgery.”

Still don’t like this beginning. For a start, it’s not a proper sentence, unless you go back to your original and add next sentence on, which leaves it too long. Words tumbling out suggests excitement or a rush and would imagine this guy was clinical and controlled and detached? I actually think, ‘You’ve got Syringomyelia and will need brain surgery,’ packs a big punch. Other changes better and have read this section, so going on to next chapter.
 
I'm inclined to agree with your editor, to be honest. It does pack more of a punch. Although you could try and lose the word 'tumbled' - doesn't sound quite right e.g.

"The specialist delivered the stunning news: I'm sorry but you've got..."

Just a thought.
 
??

As the specialist delivered the crushing news – “Sorry to say you’ve got Syringomyelia and you will require brain surgery.”


All I could say was, “Oh, so I’m not mad then?”
 
Works doesn't it? Anne isn't keen but for me, without the set up, the words sorry to say.. Don't work and it doesn't set up the 2nd line which is the key.

So I'm not mad then.
 
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