1. Shock

To : sammyg2498@gmail.com

From: pippalovesclimbing@btinternet.com

5 April 2018 at 11.45pm

Hi Sam,

How are things? Long time no speak. Although I have a pretty good excuse for not being in touch this time.

I guess it’s too much to hope that you haven’t have heard the news by now… I know it’s been all over social media. And yes it’s true – a week’s holiday climbing in Snowdonia followed by a five week sabbatical at St Bartholomew’s Hospital where they tried to piece me back together with screws and metal rods. Something must have worked, or perhaps the doctors just gave up, as they finally let me leave.

In reality I’ve just swapped one set of four walls for another. I arrived at my parents’ house yesterday which is where I’ll be staying for the foreseeable future. The room is an ensuite which helps, but both Mum and Dad keep fussing around me as though I’m made of glass. Turns out that all I needed to do to get them to like me was free fall 80 ft and smash my spinal cord.

Bad joke – sorry. I guess it all just seems a bit unreal at the moment. It’s difficult for me to get around and although the pain is under control now I’m just really goddamn tired.

I had a ton of messages of social media asking how it happened and asking if I was ok – some of the messages were from people I barely knew. My better self would say that people are just concerned and well-meaning but my more cynical, shadow self feels like some kind of strange fish in an aquarium that people are looking in at from the outside, thanking their lucky stars that they’re on the other side of the glass.

Anyway I deleted the social media accounts. Every. Single. One. To be honest I don’t really want to talk about it yet or see anyone. But if you wanted to call me that would be alright you know? If you wanted to anyway.

I’ve already had my first visitor this morning. My childhood friend Jenny lives just down the road from my parents’ house. We lost touch a few years ago but you might have met her a couple of times when we were first together. I was still asleep when she dropped by but she left a calathea plant. Do you know what a calathea plant looks like? Google it if not. Jenny means well, I know, but the poor thing probably won’t last long. If I’m honest the bedroom curtains are permanently closed and I’ve created a cosy little cocoon for myself for the moment – just until I have some more energy. The sunlight still hurts my head. How long can plants last without daylight anyway?

The main reason I’m emailing is that I know that we left things on bad terms before I went to Snowdonia but I’ve had a lot of time to think since then. A lot more time than I ever hoped for. I am sorry. I never said it before but I really am. And I wanted to let you know what had happened just in case you had missed it on Facebook for any reason. Maybe give me a call sometime?

I don’t really know what else to say. But yes – I could really do with a friend at the moment – so call me.

Love Pippa xx

2. Denial

To : sammyg2498@gmail.com

From: pippalovesclimbing@btinternet.com

12 May 2018 at 15.32pm

Hi Sam,

Thanks for getting in touch. I can’t tell you how happy it made me to hear your voice. I could almost pretend that Snowdonia had never happened and that we were just making plans to meet for dinner like usual. I’d be pushing for some place random off the beaten track – remember that amazing Eritrean restaurant we tried? – and you’d be banging the palm of your hand against your head in frustration and asking why we can’t just visit the Italian around the corner.

I have a guilty confession to make – I always secretly loved that Italian restaurant. 

It kills me you’re so far away, but once I’m feeling better then perhaps I could move closer. I know I’m not delightful company right now and I’m not going to be dancing around in any bars any time soon. Even so I’ve been reading up on some exercises and treatments, and there are some really inspirational stories out there. One guy was told he would never walk again and then went on to complete an Ironman challenge. The Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation have also done some incredible work in managing spinal cord injuries like mine. There’s a fairly new process known as epidural stimulation – it basically involves applying an electrical current to the lower part of the spine to help stimulate the nerves and jumpstart them back to life.

So maybe we can go back to that Italian restaurant when I’m better huh? I promise I won’t even suggest anywhere else this time.

I miss you. I’m so glad we got to talk.

Love Pippa xx

PS – The calathea plant is doing surprisingly well despite the lack of light in the room. I’ve christened her Thea and I think she must be hardier than she looks. She kind of reminds me of myself at the moment as she moves even less than I do. Jenny has also visited a few times – she doesn’t really know what to say but I know she means well. And she doesn’t make me feel like I’m stuck in an aquarium which is something.

3.     Guilt / Pain

To: sammyg2498@gmail.com

From: pippalovesclimbing@btinternet.com

2 June 2018 at 3.01am

Hi Sam,

I can’t sleep – my mind is whirlwind of wild thoughts and regrets. Not just about us – about everything. Life seems so unfair. I wish things could have been different.

I had a nightmare that these four walls started to close in on me and the room became smaller and smaller until eventually I couldn’t breathe. Since then I’ve been tossing and turning for the last hour – it’s difficult to get comfortable when you can only move half your body. I didn’t tell you this before but one night I fell out of bed and I tried and tried to lift myself back up with my arms but I couldn’t do it. I wept until morning when Mum came into the room and found me. My arms used to be so strong – I could scale mountains, climbing to the very peak and surveying the world from on high. Now I’m just a goddamn fish in a fishbowl – stuck in these four walls, unable to escape. Apparently there’s a wheelchair downstairs waiting for me but that feels like giving up – like I’ll never be able to look down on the world from above again.

Last time we spoke I could hear the pity in your voice – and that’s not you Sam. Well – maybe it’s you. But it’s not us. It’s not how we worked – there was always balance with us. We were supposed to be a team. I’d encourage you to step outside your comfort zone and you’d keep me grounded.

If only I checked the carabiner was secure; if I’d just paid just a little more attention – where would I be now? And you begged me not to go – you said I was so busy trying to reach for the clouds that I couldn’t ever see what was right in front of me on the ground.

And you were right. I know that now.

I never meant to hurt you Sam – I’m not sure if I ever told you that. I wonder if the universe is punishing me now for being so headstrong and fickle.

I think Thea will die soon too. Another life I’ve ruined. I’ll add it to the list of regrets.

Love a Very Tired Pippa xx

4. Bargaining

To: sammyg2498@gmail.com

From: pippalovesclimbing@btinternet.com

17 June 2018 at 15.26pm

Hi Sam,

We only spoke about an hour ago but I feel terrible for crying at you on the phone. It’s hard to explain how trapped I feel sometimes – I have good days and bad days. I’m afraid today is one of those ‘bad’ days.

You’re right that I should make more of an effort with the physiotherapists and the counsellor. I shouldn’t have yelled at you about that – and I promise I will open the bedroom curtains and let the light in from now on. I think Thea would like that too.

It’s not just you. Jenny has also been on at me to be more co-operative with the counsellor. She thinks I should try to visit the hospital instead of refusing to leave the safety net of the bedroom and always having house calls. I’m just not ready to face the world yet.

I haven’t told Jenny this but her visits always do me more good than the counsellor. We gossip about people we went to school with and she brings me climbing magazines (even though the counsellor told her not to as it would upset me). The other day I had a flashback from school and I suddenly remembered how I’d copied Jenny’s essay one time so I could spend the evening at a party with a boy I fancied at the time. We got caught, of course, and both of us were punished but Jenny never ratted me out. She was always a good person.

In some ways she reminds me a bit of you – she’s like a cool breeze from an electric fan on a hot summer day. Not immediately noticeable when you first walk into a room but you soon start to notice when its gone. I don’t know why Jenny and I ever lost touch.

So if I really start making more of an effort perhaps you could visit later this summer? I really am trying.

You never did answer my question about us. As I told you on the phone, I’m a different person now and I really think we could start over. Perhaps the accident was the wake up call I needed. Is it too late for us?

Love Pippa xx

5. Anger

To: sammyg2498@gmail.com

From: pippalovesclimbing@btinternet.com

7 September 2018 at 10.34pm

Hi Sam,

What can I say? Don’t try to tell me you haven’t been ignoring my calls. My legs might not work but it doesn’t mean I’m stupid.

I can’t understand you – a year ago all you said you wanted was me. And now I’m here, giving you everything you asked for – offering myself to you on a bloody plate, and you don’t want to goddamn know!

Well let’s be frank. There’s one obvious difference between now and then isn’t there? Now I’m only half a person – one second’s carelessness and everything changes huh?

Well how do you think things are for me? Have you ever thought of that? You sit there being all self-righteous telling me I should stay positive, think myself lucky I didn’t die and that I should make more of an effort. How can you possibly understand what it’s like to be me? Someone hungry for life who liked to feel the wind racing through my hair, to run wild through the forest or swim in the deepest oceans. All that energy and life is still in me, bubbling and brewing, even if I’m cut off at the waist.

And you?! You may a fully functioning body and yet you sit there watching Netflix and playing your video games. Do you have any idea how infuriating and hypocritical that is?

You may feel sorry for me but I feel sorry for you. You’ll only ever live half a life even if you might think you are a full person.

Don’t bother calling.

Pippa

6. Depression

To: sammyg2498@gmail.com

From: pippalovesclimbing@btinternet.com

31 December 2018 at 20.54pm

Hi Sam,

I don’t blame you for not being in touch. I guess I said some pretty harsh stuff earlier in the year. I never was the easiest girlfriend and I know the accident has made things ten times worse.

I just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year – I hope you enjoy it however you might be celebrating. Drinks? Dancing? I’ll just be in my little room as usual. At first I liked the safety of the four walls – but now I find it frustrating being unable to get out. I’ve asked the physiotherapist when I might be able to leave but both her and my counsellor agree I’m not in the best place at the moment. The weather’s dark and miserable at the moment too.

Statistics show that unless there’s positive progress within the first six months after the injury full recovery is unlikely – and we’re well past that by now. What an idiot I was to believe I might be different. I can’t even look at the climbing magazines Jenny brings me anymore. All I can do is stare blindly at the empty walls in front of me.

Each day is the same. I sleep and eat – and I need help even going to the bathroom and showering. It’s not pretty.

I’m really sorry things didn’t work out between us. Maybe if things hadn’t happened the way they did it would have worked – but then maybe not. I still miss you sometimes… although every day I miss you a little less than I did before. And that makes me feel sad too.

Thea looks sad as well, but she’s just about clinging on to life. I actually think that she might hang on if she makes it through winter but I guess time will tell.

Love Pippa xx

7. Acceptance

To: sammyg2498@gmail.com

From: pippalovesclimbing@btinternet.com

3 April 2019 12.39pm

Hi Sam,

How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while and so I hope you’re out and about enjoying life. The nights are finally getting longer and my room is filled with yellow sunshine. Jenny has bought me some hyacinths which look very cheery on their spot next to Thea on the window sill. (I’ve attached a photo of Thea as she’s really grown – not too bad after sharing a room for a year with a miserable, angry girl who can’t walk, right?)

This isn’t an email to have a go at you or make you feel guilty. The last thing I want to hear is that cliché pity or awkwardness in your voice again. A year down the road, and I've finally realised that you don’t actually have to feel sorry for me.

The verdict is in and chances are I’ll never walk again, let alone climb. And yes that sucks. I’m not going to lie – I still cry sometimes at night thinking about the views from Snowdonia just before I fell and all the dreams I had and the places I was going to visit. I even miss that crappy Italian restaurant you used to like.

The thing is I lied to you. I don’t mean when we were together - although I’m sure that’s probably true too. A while back I told you I was different now, that I’d changed.

And that’s not true. Physically I’ve changed, sure. Things may be more difficult in future – but inside I’m still the same girl I always was. I’m still going to want to strive for the highest heights and challenge myself to the limits. The whole world still excites me and I don’t want to miss it anymore.

It was a dark, dark winter but I’ve persevered and the physiotherapist tells me I’ve made excellent progress. The wheelchair is still waiting for me and I’m wondering just what kind of speed I’ll be able break with it. I also found an article in one of Jenny’s magazines about a scheme for people with limitations like me; the scheme supports a whole range of outdoor activities. There’s all sorts of options for like horse riding and canoeing... but what has really caught my eye is the water-skiing! According to my physiotherapist it should be possible for me and there’s adaptive equipment I can use if I need it too. I’m itching to see the ocean again.

I do hope you’re happy Sam. I could blame the accident for us not working out – it would be so much easier for me to do so. But the truth is we were always different people even before Snowdonia and the accident hasn’t changed our souls or spirits – or whatever it‘s supposed to be that makes each human being special and unique. Even so, I will always remember us fondly Sam, and hope the future brings only good things for you. It’s no one’s fault - just one of those things. I wanted you to know that.

And who knows what lies just around the corner...? I guess that's what makes it an adventure.

All my love,

Pippa xx

PS – Oh yeah and I have some other news. Tomorrow I finally get to leave the room and go outside. It’s time I faced the world again.