Life weaves its magic in mysterious ways. It is only once you’ve had something taken away from you, something that you took for granted, that you realise its value to you. Think of your carefree days at school, your favourite tennis racket, your hand-me-down first car… And your health.
Cycling is a fantastic sport. A friend refers to it as the great equaliser, because it is a sport in which your equipment/ money/ background does not really affect the spirit of cycling: the effort you put into it is the result you will see at the end of the race. It is straightforward, and relatively uncomplicated. Apart from the doping scandal, Lance had it right: it is NOT about the bike. It is all you, it is something that happens inside you.
I was a fit and healthy 22-year-old sports lover (and this was nine years ago, I must add here) when I was forced to pack away my cycling shoes. The reason: I fell ill with a rare and debilitating neurological illness called Guillain-Barre Syndrome (aka GBS). Your peripheral nervous system (i.e. your arms and legs) becomes paralysed by your own immune system. Your immune system turns nasty by attacking you in a violent, ruthless and sudden manner burning all your neurons and myelin sheaths in your body. It is not yet known what causes this life-threatening syndrome, but scientists are feverishly trying to change that. There is no cure, or no prescribed treatment, which makes this frightening experience that much more daunting for both the sufferer and the medical team.
As a result of this I was left paralysed from the waist down for many long months; survivors, as I like to refer to “us”, are on average able to regain the use of their limbs, albeit with limitations. Coming close to meeting my Maker, I was transferred from a hospital’s ICU to a physical rehabilitation centre where I was taught the basics. Don’t laugh, but I had to relearn how to hold a fork, use a pen, button up shirts, and to take my first tentative steps.
When I was but a toddler, learning to walk was fun. At 24 and having to learn to walk again was not so. I persevered during difficult and trying months, and am now mightily proud of my achievement, because this meant that I would one day have the hope of slipping into my cycling shoes again. Advancing in my recovery, I was strapped into a recumbent bike-type machine, and this forced my leg muscles to activate. As a sports lover and cyclist, this was my favourite exercise. From being bed-ridden, to wheelchairs, to walking frames and then to my own legs unaided and then onto an exercise bike. Life was beginning to resemble normalcy.
Cycling, and exercising in general, has made life that bit more meaningful for me. I never completely took my health for granted, but I also never truly appreciated it. There is not a pedal, or a social ride, I don’t take today without thinking how grateful I am for being able to once more be on my bicycle.
Inspiring story, I wish you full recovery!