Life is not about what happens to you: It’s about how you respond
On Tuesday 4th June 2024 I left my home in Castletroy, Limerick at 6.30pm and cycled the short distance out the old Limerick-Nenagh road to the start of the Limerick Cycling Club Summer league race. The race route is approx. 37 km in length over a flat surface. It commences on the Limerick side of Birdhill, snakes through Bridhill, towards Nenagh, circles the Nenagh roundabout, back to Birdhill and finishes up a steep incline.
There are three races. I go in the first one which is perceived as the easiest of the three but it is not easy. It is difficult. Our bikes whirr along between 35 and 50kph, each rider concentrating on the wheel of the bike just ahead of him. The race finishes with a sprint up the hill. I don’t have the power to keep up with the leaders and finish in approx. 10th place. Not bad for a 51 year old! I cycle home in the company of two fellow cyclists. We discuss race tactics, fitness and our plans for the racing calendar in the weeks ahead. I’m also looking forward to the family holiday in Majorca on the following Saturday.
Unfortunately, there will be no holiday in Majorca.
There will be no cycling for 82 days.
There will be no work for 82 days.
There will just be 82 days.
I wake up the following morning with a sharp pain in my lower left leg. I’m due to work at 7pm, a 12 hour night shift. But, I can’t. I can barely walk. I think that I’ve pulled a muscle, perhaps during the exertions of the cycle race the previous evening. I need a sick cert for work so I ring my GP. The secretary explains that there are no appointments. She suggests that I present at St. John’s Hospital, Limerick city on the following morning should the pain still persist. I take the advice.
I wake up Thursday morning with sharp protruding pains in my lower left leg. I decide to go to St John’s Hospital. My estimation is that there will be big queue at the hospital so I bring a book with me. It’s ‘Man’s Search for Meaning’ by Vicktor Franklin. On the way to the hospital I stop for coffee at my favourite coffee shop. I get out of the car, and quite suddenly and viciously I feel a shortness of breath. I can barely breathe. I remain calm despite the breakdown of my nervous system. Panicking solves nothing. Twenty eight years of policing has taught me something.
I recover somewhat. There is a choice to make. Do I call an ambulance and wait or attempt to drive myself to the hospital. I opt for the latter despite my imperilled state. Luckily, the traffic is not heavy. I arrive at the hospital in a few minutes. To my surprise there is no queue of patients inside. I’m seen by a doctor quite quickly. I whisper my ailments. She diagnoses me with a blood clot within seconds. She’s concerned. She decides to send me to the University hospital for further examination. I go via taxi. On the way a thought enters my head. What if I die in the taxi between two hospitals. I have a black sense of humour.
Thankfully, there is no queue at the University Hospital. A porter brings me to the Acute Medical Unit. I sit and wait to see a nurse. In the meantime a fellow patient comes over and asks me about a medical condition that he has. He thinks that I’m a doctor! I assure him that I’m not and that even if I wanted to be one, I would never have accumulated the points to study medicine. We laugh together.
Shortly afterwards, a nurse examines my leg. She says that I need a scan of my leg to confirm the blood clot. A subsequent scan confirms same. Thankfully, it hasn’t travelled to the lung. The Consultant tells me that it’s unprovoked. He advises me to take blood thinners for the foreseeable future. He says that I’m lucky, blood clots can be fatal. I joke about death. In my career as a Garda I’ve seen enough tragedies, suicides, fatal road traffic collisions and sudden deaths to realise that, there are no answers. Death is random, life is random. Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the life that you do have. We can’t control what happens to us. We can only control our response.
In Viktor Frankl’s most famous book “Man’s Search for Meaning” Frankl stipulates that “everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms- to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way”. (Frankl, 1945) Frankl understood this concept well. He survived three years in concentration camps during World War Two, one of which was Auschwitz.
My response is to put the blood clot episode behind me and get back to living the life that I want.
Sources
Frankl, Viktor, Man’s Search for Meaning. Penguin Random House, London, 1945.
Recent Comments