First Weekend Leave

My First Weekend Leave
Days were getting really boring at Shenton Rehab especially over the weekend because they were my rest days, there were no OT or PT sessions. Although there were no official rehabs, I did my own “secret training” and tried to surprise my therapist come every Monday. What drove me to do all these were simply the thoughts of joining my team mates in training again.
I want to do weights with Steph and Stuart on Muscle Mondays.
I want to run again with Gab, Alex, Tom and James on Intervals Tuesdays.
I want to start swimming with the team soon on Swimming Wednesdays.
I want to do the wind trainers on Spinning Thursdays.
I want to more lactic sessions with Grant on Fridays.
I want to more 5km TT with James and Charles.
I want to ride with Phil, James and gang on our Social-Ride Sundays.
I want to race again.
For one more time. To beat myself. Once more.
These thoughts kept going through my head as I lie in my bed, attempting to do glutes bridges, glutes clams and planks. Nurses often come back my bed and tell me to rest.
Nurse: Zac. Rest your body. This is weekend. Enjoy it.
Zac: This is how I enjoy my weekend =) I have no time to lose. There is no rest day in training.
Nurse: Still.. you need to rest.
Zac: ok. I will rest when im done with my workout. My team mates did these this week. I will finish these too.
Some nurses shook their heads, some encouraged me and most, just think im a nut case. When the physios told me to do 10, I would do 20. When the physio told me to cycle for 20min, I would do 25min. I always did more than what was expected. why? Because I believe in myself. I believe that I do not fall within the usual stereotype. I believe if I push myself hard enough, miracles will happen. So if that makes me a nut case, so be it. I will be happy being one.
There came this special day when my therapists were really impressed with my progress and they had a meeting which led to a new turn of events for me: maybe it is time to let Zac back into the real world.
When I heard of it, I was really happy. But this obviously came with a slight challenge (I found out later that this condition never exist. The therapists just wanted to have some fun with me). My PT told me: if you can get your left hand to move, we might consider letting you out on a weekend.
My left hand has been asleep since my accident. I have been trying. Just that there were no visible improvements.  I told myself that this is “game time” and I really really need to make this happen. I focused on my left hand and practiced really hard (it is really hard to do an exercise when from the exterior point of view, there is zero movement. I was literally sweating just trying to get my fingers to move a little). I guess I really respond well under pressure and challenges. I managed to wriggle my left fingers a couple of days later and was granted my weekend leave.
One of the first movements i got for my left hand. Hope you are able to see it move. It sure was damn exciting for my family and myself.
Before I was introduced back into the “real world” i had to be introduced to new “workouts” such as: learning to sit on the floor, standing from floor, getting in and out of the car. All these me a couple of days to learn it. I had to learn to use my good foot to pivot myself on the ground, use my good hand to push my body off, wait for body to be centered and then grab onto something stable with my right hand and then push off with my good foot while pulling hard with my good arm. These were things that “normal” people would do without thinking but it sure was hard work for me. Getting the correct coordination is a challenge on its own, let alone mention the fact that i need to harness the strength to propel my body off the ground. I had to stay positive and remind myself of the rainbow after the rain: my first weekend leave. It is such a huge motivation. 
Saturday came and it is now my weekend leave (well technically it was just a day leave). I had been locked up in the hospital compound for about a month now and it was the very first time I saw cars, bus, traffic lights and lots and lots of people. It was.. different. The view from the wheelchair was different. Everything seems so familiar but yet foreign to me. Nevertheless, I am greatful just to be out. No time to ponder about these useless theories. Gotta enjoy myself.
I had made arrangement with an alternative treatment with an acupuncturist (Well, considering the fact that I am Asian, I was no stranger to this). Getting in and out of the car was different. It was physically challenging. However, what was the toughest, was to watch my sister and girlfriend having to struggle to carry the wheelchair out of the car, assemble it and help transfer me onto it. It doesnt end there. They have to wheel me along the footpaths, across the roads to the medical hall. I used to be the one doing heavy lifting. Now, i am depending on two girls to do it for me. I am not being sexist here. It just simply broke my heart to see them go through all these trouble to bring me out. Deep down, I felt really bad. I felt useless. I felt broken. I have to recover soon because I dont want to be a burden to others. But for now, all ego, all pride has to go out of the window because I need help. I need help to get better. I need help to recover, to be less of a burden. I will return these favors one day. But for now, I will have to be dependent.
I think what people often forget is that disabled people have pride too. We dont feel good having to ask for something. If we are abled, we wouldnt have asked. How we wish we were the one who is offering help to others. My church mentor always tells me: It is a blessing to be able to provide for others. Regardless what it is. Financially or through physical labor. I never fully understood this till now. 
People, dont be shy to offer assistance to the disabled. You have no idea how happy i get when the bus driver waits for me, how much hope I see in man kind when they allow me to board the bus first. Simple things like this meant the world to a disabled person.
Crossing the road used to be easy, it aint anymore. Especially when I am on the wheelchair, having the same height as the front of the car. It seems like the car was about to crash straight into me. It was one of the times when i realised all the uphills/bumpy roads we have here in Perth. Life on the wheelchair is different. It is scary. Going back my apartment in my wheelchair is really different and difficult. Reaching for the sink is hard. Going to the toilet and into the rooms through the standardize door requires pin-point accuracy from the person wheeling me. Life is different. Life is .. different.
Thanks to my sister and shina, i was able to get the the medical hall safely. I received treatment from the acupuncturist and was asked what I would like to have for lunch. I told them I would like to have a MacDonald’s meal and both my sister and shina were shocked. Mr no-fastfood has requested for the most unhealthy food choice ever. 
hey. you cant blame me ok? Need some happy food yo.
So, off to MacDonald’s we went.
THIS IS THE BEST MACDONALD’S IN MY LIFE. BEST. There wont be another time close to this. I ate shit loads of unhealthy food and topped off with a dessert (well, i felt super guilty after that and went for a 40min bike ride on Monday to rectify my wrong doings). I was so excited about the meal that I actually managed to use my left hand to grab the McFlurry. Yes. This was the first time I used my left hand for something useful post-accident. MacDonald’s was that exciting.
I did receive my fair share of stares when I enter in the wheelchair. Guess I just wasnt bothered or rather I have resigned to fate to being “special”. I went about doing my own business, eating awesome non-hospital food. I didnt blame any of those people. I knew they were just curious, they aint looking down on me. It takes a positive mindset to see things this way. Hopefully all my mates back at Shenton will be able to understand this one day. 
I was really tired for the rest of the day but i refused to take a nap back home. I knew i could sleep as much as I want on Sunday. For now, time is really precious. Let’s stay awake, stay out and do something. Good times fly by quickly and before i knew it, I was well on my way back to Shenton. I had these same feelings when i was in the army and every weekend when I was returning to camp sucked. It’s like army all over again. Grrrr…
Hopefully I will get to stay out again next weekend.
Hopefully I will be able to get out without the wheelchair soon.
Hopefully I will never have to return back to the hospital.
Hopefully.
I can only pray and hope now.
I always wanted to sit on a wheelchair when I was younger. Now, i cant wait to get my ass outta this crap.

Needles. Needles. Painful Needles. 

The power of McDonald’s. My first use of my left hand. Aint pretty but it sure worked. They should set up one in the hospital. Think every patient would recover faster! HA! 

I was actually that happy to put in THIS into my body. Yeah. I was THAT happy.

prepared and written by Zac Leow

OT : Occupational Training (aka olympic training)

Everyday I am stuck in the rehabilitation hospital. Going for PT (physio therapy) and OT (occupational therapy) and all the in between events became like a schedule.
0730H Wake up
0800H Medicine time
0830H Walk along corridor (~50m)
0945H Wheel to OT
1200H Lunch
1345H Medicine + Wheel to PT
1600H Rest
1700H Dinner
1800H Medicine
1900H Snack
2000H Medicine
2200H Medicine + Sleep
Life in rehab center was pretty full on. Seems simple but it sure wasn’t, especially when I push myself to my limit during every OT and PT. There are days when I pushed myself so hard for OT that I couldn’t make it to PT and there were also days when I pushed myself so hard for PT and I couldn’t wake up for OT. In addition, medications have multiple side effects, which meant that there were “up days” and there were “down days”. When down days came, even moving to the toilet is a tough job.
Prior to my accidents, I could not distinguish the difference between OT and PT (im sorry to all my health professional friends). Now, I know the differences well. I know they are both needed and they are both very important in having a full rehab.
The OT does all the functional therapy. I learnt how to use my fingers, wrist, shoulders in OT. The OT taught me simple functional tasks. When I first regained movement of my right fingers, my OT gave me a huge challenge.

OT: Nice polo shirt you have there Zac
Me: Yeah. My mate gave this to me.
OT: Nice! So, who did the buttons for you?
Me: My girlfriend did *smile*
OT: Oh no! That’s no good isn’t it? You have to dress yourself.

Eh? I am a spinal patient and I have just moved my fingers 2 days ago. Are you freaking kidding me?

OT: Come on. Do it yourself. Let me get you something.

So my OT went to get his props for this activity. The buttons on the shirt was made of varying sizes. The biggest button would be perfect on a clown and the smallest button would be the size of the button on my polo.

OT: Go on. Try it.
Me being me, started with the smallest button. (so damn typical of me.)
Failed.
Ok. Next bigger button.
Failed.
Next button.
Failed.
Fail
Fail
Fail
Ok. Biggest button now.
Fail.
****
Seriously? =(
OT: Its ok. Let me teach you. First, you try to place your finger in this position. Then you try to aim for the slit, push it through with your thumb and …
WHY AM I LEARNING HOW TO BUTTON MYSELF AFTER 27 YEARS?!?!
I was instantly depressed and I guess my face shows it all. So everyone left me for a while. I sat there alone, looking at buttons. This seems to be the hardest task I have done in my life. WTF magic is this?! These are just buttons. This is seriously not hard. But its so hard. F…
I took a while to sink in my self-pity and denial and I do what I do best. PICK MYSELF UP.
Ok. This used to be easy but you know what? I am no longer the same.
I have to embrace my new body. I have do everything right. Get the fundamental right.
Be patient. I am having my second childhood now. Remember. I am a baby.
Ok. Lets go.
I will master this button thingy today and get it out of the way. Tomorrow will be a better day. One step at a time, I can make things happen. Just got to do it. Lets kill the buttons today. LETS GO!
So I practiced buttoning on the prop for 30 minutes before my fingers could no longer move.
OT: Zac, hows things going?
Me: Its alright. I think I am getting better at this. But my fingers are no longer moving..
OT: Oh it looks good! Good job. No worries. Your fingers are probably tired. You need to build up your fingers. Its just like weights training, like in the gym. We will continue tomorrow.
Buttoning is gym training now. Look how far I have degraded. (Even as I type this now, it sends chills down my spine, thinking back at all these is an absolute nightmare) Try again tomorrow eh? Alright. I will smash this sh*t tomorrow. I will have my secret training tonight and surprise you tomorrow. Hell yeah.
FYI, secret training didn’t happen. I was really too smashed from the morning’s OT. This is how important an OT is. No freaking point in being able to run if I cant feed / write/ button my clothes. Aint gonna be too “normal” isn’t it. This was how far out I am from where I was a couple of weeks ago. Saddening but true.
It is really weird to know that I have some walking (actually limping) ability while I have no fine motor skills. Super screwed up. I could limp but I didn’t have any dorsi flexion. Sucks. Ok, apologies on the technical terms. So bottom line is, I am no longer normal and I no longer function normally. Yes. No longer normal.

Life really aint that bad when one could walk or write or eat on their own or walk to the toilet on our own and to void normally. Sometimes, we just forget how blessed we are.

making one of the first few attempts of standing up. Who is that idiot that told me i wouldnt stand in the year? 

prepared and written by Zac Leow

My First Taste of being “Normal”

Having the catheter in me has become something I got used to. Having to carry around my urine bag wherever I go. There were different sizes and one of the smaller versions were small enough to be tied onto my leg and hence its easier to move around. The downside of it is: it gets full easily. So twice a day, I will have to ring my bell, notify my nurse that my man bag (that’s the term we used in the rehab hospital instead of calling it urine bag) is full. The nurse will then go grab the necessary apparatus to change the bag for me. At times, the nurse forgets about me and went to do other stuff so there were a few near cases of exploding pee bags attached to my leg, on my bed. On hindsight, its pretty funny. But trust me, it sure wasn’t during real time.
Because I have good sensation for my bladder, I can sense it when the wires are a little stuffed up and that meant unwanted pressure up my dingdong. So there was this night when I rang for the nurse and told her that there’s a lot of pressure in my bladder and dingdong but there is no flowing of fluid into the bag. The nurse came, took a look at me and told me the catheter was working fine and asked me to relax. I continued to feel uncomfortable and rang her again, telling her the situation. This time round, she got pissed at me and scolded me. So, I had no choice but to endure the pain. Soon, my bag started turning brown. Know why? Because I was peeing blood. The increased pressure must have caused some micro damage. So now, I rang the bell again and she finally went “hmm.. wow”, and changed a new bag for me.
The catheter was removed the next day and I was expected to be able to void myself normally due to my good sensation.
I tried voiding for 30minutes..
Failed.
I got my parents to leave me in my “closed” partition and tried again.
Failed.
So I decided to rest and try again later. Come on, this is peeing. This is not rocket science, this is not weight training or exercise. I am actually taking a 30min break before I attempt this activity again. No one will ever know the frustration to lose one’s ability to pee. Like come on. Seriously?! Grrrr…
After several more failed attempts, the nurse inserted an intermittent catheter to help me void. Basically, the catheter is inserted up my dingdong, into the bladder, to drain all the fluids out. When the draining is complete, the catheter is removed. Hence, I will always try to void myself in between all these intermittent catheters, hoping that I can tell the nurses to stop doing it. I seriously hate the catheters. Even till today.
Despite all the failed attempts, damaged ego and pride, feelings of self-worth, feelings of being normal, more bad news came my way. Presumably because of the bleeding incident I had previously, I was diagnosed with UTI (urinary tract infection). I started burning and my body often went into full spasm mode. I was already taking paracetamol (Panadol) at that moment for pain killing purposes and hence there was no other medication available to bring my fever down. I could only “sit on it”. Due to the Australian medical rule or something, I was NOT given antibiotics because they wanted my body to fight against the virus. The fever escalated and was often hovering around the 40 degrees zone (imagine the amount of brain cells being burned because of this). It was only on the 3rd day that the medical staff gave in to my constant begging of antibiotics that I got my IV drip. And because of this stupid UTI and fever, I had up to 6 catheters daily. The pain every time the tube slip up… ouch..
One of the days, the nurse came in and told me to be prepared to lose my ability to pee for the rest of my life. She gave me a pet talk and asked me to prepare to learn how to use the catheter on my own. It was such sad news.. I was advised by a doctor friend to take peeing as an exercise. Do it once every 3 hours. Get the nurse to wheel me to the toilet and stand there to condition myself and to re-wire my brain. Practice peeing.
yes.
practice peeing.
seriously. sounds like asking me to do 1km repeats. But that is gonna be my best bet and.. I practiced peeing for the next few days and FINALLY. It happened. I never knew being able to pee is such a joyous occasion. Feels like I have just won the Olympics gold medal or something. It is that tough and I was that happy.
Again, thanks to the UTI, my rehab took a couple of steps back and I had to do lots of strength training all over again. I lost even more muscle mass and muscle wastage increased. I found out later that I lost 10kg during this short period of time. To begin with, me being a marathon runner, meant I didn’t have much fats/ dead weight to spare. I was named as the “Asian Kenyan” in the spinal ward.
Well, at least I am Kenyan. Built for running marathons right?
Right.
Good for running…
I will be able to run again. And the next time, I will be faster.
Because I am Kenyan now. Right?
Right.
I will run again.
There came the next stage of my rehab: aqua therapy. 
I was allowed into the pool to do some rehab exercise, to get the body moving. The buoyancy of the water made it easier for me to stand, walk and even move my left arm. I really enjoyed the session alot and so much so that my physio told me “mate, i have never met someone who is as happy as you to be getting wet. Are you sure you are a runner and not a swimmer?” ha. almost told her i was trying out for triathlon. almost.
So after all the strength training session, i was still going strong and I wanted more. I wanted more challenges and I wanted to feel more “normal”. My physio then asked me a golden question: Do you want to run.
Immediately, I turned and I started running. Running into freedom. Running.. has set me free and made me forget all my troubles all over again.

Finally “RUNNING” again =)

Moving the left shoulder and arm is hard work for a spinal patient. Didnt know this till i became one. We have taken all our “normal” movements for granted
When my body says “stop”, I say “GO”. because.. my determination has no equal!
I will be back. I will be back running.
I will be normal. as long as I give it my all, thats the best chance I have.
..
.

prepared and written by Zac Leow

Big Baby at Shenton Park

One of the most horrible experience as a spinal patient was that I had lost my ability to relief myself. At around Day 4 of my hospitalization, the nurse asked me when was the last time I did my big business and informed me that she would have to give me laxatives to assist me with that. The laxative was meant to be inserted up the anus to help the muscles relax, which will in turn allow me to do my business. So, obviously, I was reluctant to receive such treatments. But after some long discussions with nurses and doctor, I had no choice but to receive the treatment as I needed to get rid of the “waste” in my body to ensure it is operating in the best way possible. Unfortunately, my body reacted body with the laxative and I ended up having diarrhea. Worst of all, I was literally shitting on myself, in my pants. Due to me being paralysed, I had to shit while lying flat on my back in my own bed. This was one of the worst experience in my life. It totally made me understand the word “helpless” and “motionless”. No one would want to go near shit, let alone step or even lie on it. It was certainly something that I wouldn’t have expected.
Despite such tough times, I slowly had a little more movement in my right hand and I was also given the “ok” to move my head/neck a little. The nurse loosened the neck brace to allow me to have some rotation. Little did I know that moving one’s head is actually a privilege and blessing. My mood improved tremendously as I was now finally able to look around the room. For the first time in a week, I actually get to see something other than the ceiling. It was indeed a wonderful feeling. I get to talk to my parents, looking them in their eyes. My legs were still not moving much and they were constantly in a device that constantly exerts pressure around my calves. It is to ensure i have good blood circulation and to help prevent me from muscle wastage in my lower limbs. I kinda feel like I am some sort of a human from the future. Full of tubes, full of device running on my body. Its definitely one of those funny-but-not-so-funny moments. Oh wells, as long as i get to entertain myself.
Fast forward a little and I was transferred to Shenton Park Rehabilitation Center. This was supposedly the place every patient wants to go because there is an intensive rehab program that is built into the daily life. 2 hours of physio (PT) and 2 hours of occupational therapy (OT) each day. I thought to myself: this aint gonna be tough. I do double sessions of training daily. This is going to be just like training. In fact, is 2 hours enough?

I will soon find out that this is going to be one of the toughest “training” I will ever have in my life.
I received a “HUGE” welcome at Shenton Rehab. When I arrived, I wasn’t put in a comfortable position on the bed so I requested some assistance from the nurse in the room.
Z: Hello, can I have some assistance in shifting my body a little higher on the bed?
N: Sorry, no. Please do it yourself.
Z: But.. I cant use my arms and legs, could you please help me …
N: Nope. You are now in Shenton, which means that you learning to be independent. So go on. I am here just in case something happens.
I was taken aback by the sudden change in environment. Lucky for me, the sportsman in me said “ Challenge accepted”. So I “worm-ed” myself up the bed, using whatever strength I could harness from whatever muscle groups that I could use. Kicking.. pulling.. turning.. using my neck.. using my right arm.. using my inmobile left side of the body as a support/resting position while I use my right hand to pull and push.. It was a huge challenge to move myself 15cm higher up on the bed, and.. I failed. After seeing me try for 5 minutes, the nurse came over to help me.
N: Good job. Lets try again some time soon. Nurses wont be here to help you all the time. This is for your own good.
Fair enough. Well said. But wow. Tough day 1 that’s for sure. Luckily for me, the next nurse on shift was a Japanese nurse. *phew* I spoke to her in Japanese and it definitely made her a lot more friendly to me and she did make my Day1 at Shenton A LOT smoother. It’s always good to learn a foreign language people. Always good. =)
Dinner time has come and the next challenge arise. I have not fed myself since the accident and obviously the nurse is not going to feed me. So, I slowly picked up my spoon and attempted at having my dinner. It took me 30minutes to drop food all over myself and the bed before I gave up after eating less than ½ my usual intake. It became so tiring that I rather be hungry than to make another attempt to feed myself. My right arm could no longer move and it no longer had the grip strength to hold the spoon. Imagine, just 2 weeks ago I was squatting 160kg, bench pressing 40kg ( I know this is little) and now 2 weeks later, I cannot even hold a 0.2kg spoon. How frustrating can this be?!?!
I told myself “tomorrow, I will be able to eat more. Tomorrow I will have a better use of my right hand. I will be normal again… I will be..”
After all the formal introduction to my OT and PT, the real rehabilitation begins. PT wheeled me down to the gym asked me if I would like to sit up from my bed. 

Of course I would and of course I can do it. Dont be silly.. Why would I learn to sit up? Its my arms and legs that were affected..

PT: is this your sitting position Zac?
Z: yes
PT: Ok mate. Try to sit as neutral as you think you are. Be as centered as possible.
Ok. Something must be wrong. “try”.. why “try”..
PT: Zac, is this your centered position?
Z: Yes.
PT: Ok mate. You are off centered. You can ask your family about it.

My parents nodded and demonstrated how I was off-centered. I was a little shock but accepted the fact almost instantly. I knew I am not at my best, there will a lot of things I will need to re-learn again, so I am starting everything afresh now. Let’s get the fundamentals right.
I followed my PT’s instruction and managed to learn to be as centered as I can. I sweat, I shivered, my muscles fatigued and I rested in between, repeating this simple movement over and over again. 2 hours flew by just from learning to sit up. Imagine having to learn to sit up at the age of 27. Imagine my parents watching their 27year old son do something simple.. something they caught me 27 years ago. It must have hurt them alot. I didnt want them to feel the pain. I could only work hard, work harder, be back to where i was before. Not just for me. For my parents.
First session at OT was tough as well. We went through some tests to determine my grip strength, dexterity and finger strength. All of these tests are really familiar to me thanks to sports science. So when I received my results, it was a reminder that I was no longer the old me. I had to start from square one. I am a baby. Yes. I am a baby. I have decided to treat myself like a baby. Not because I want to be pampered or because I wanted to be taken care of. I wanted to view myself as a baby because, babies learn things from scratch. They learn sitting up, wriggling or their body, learn to grip things, learn to walk and then run.. Yes. I will run again. As long as I am a baby, I keep learning, I keep practicing, I keep falling, but as long as I don’t give up, I will be like all babies, having the potential and ability to learn how to walk and how to run.
I am a baby.
I had to rely on the nurses to shower me daily. They will first transfer me to a commode (wheelchair for toilet) and wheel me to the shower and proceed to shower me. see. I am a baby. I try not to think of myself as useless, but as a baby. I am just learning things all over again. I am just.. learning. This is a much better way than beating myself up over the situation or to be adsorbed in my self-pity. I am a baby.
Days at Shenton Rehab was tough. I remembered myself getting onto the stationary bike and doing 20minutes of the bike before every “walking” session that followed. I always gave my all for the bike ride because I knew that this was the only form of aerobic exercise I was getting. I didn’t want to let all my marathon trainings go to waste. I didn’t want to lose everything. I was holding on to the hopes that I will be able to do a marathon again in the future. In fact, I want to compete again. I want to be back at where I was.

The physios were supportive of my decision and they allowed me to go my own training daily. That’s probably less work for them but its also better for me. Whenever I felt tired, I reminded myself that I am a lot more fortunate than the others patients at Shenton, people who are still stuck on the wheelchair. At least, I get to be out of my wheelchair for 2 hours a day (that’s probably the maximum my body could go). I pushed myself hard on the bike everyday and I get weekly goals. I made sure I did everything within my power to improve to meet the goals. I did strength endurance sets, strength training, aerobic recovery as well as techniques on the bike. In fact, I even requested physio session to be lengthened so that I can get more time on the bike. I constantly reminded myself of what my coach taught me “ALWAYS CHALLENGE YOURSELF. If it is not challenging, it is not working. Do it in different variations to challenge yourself. This is the difference. Challenge yourself”. I will always bear this in mind. ALWAYS CHALLENGE YOURSELF. That’s what I told myself daily at Shenton. Go beyond where I didn’t. Out-do the yesterday-me. Go till I crash. The medical team is here if I do crash. So.. lets go. I almost died, I can finally use my body a little more, there is no time to waste but to push. PUSH ZAC!! PUSH YOURSESLF!!

I made a silent prayer. “Dear Lord, if you allow me to run again, I will never grumble about another tough training session. I will never complain about lactic workouts. I will always give my best. I will learn to enjoy all lactic workouts because it will all become so simple as compared to what I am going through now. Let me run and train with my team mates again. I will never complain to my coach for the tough 400m repeats or the short rest times… Please. I will work my ass off to make it happen if you allow me to. I will never complain about tough workouts again”..

I want to feel the lactic rushing through my veins..
I want to feel that throwing-up feeling after a hard workout..
I want to run till I cramp..
I want to run till I feel my lungs are exploding..
I wanna run again.
I promise to be a good boy.
I promise to love running.
I promise to enjoy running…
Please…
Give me a chance to make it happen…

please..

Sleeping was never comfortable =(

Happy Day.. Because i got to turn my head! =) Simple joys in life that I have long forgotten.

Taking a picture with my head turned! =)

I was allowed to tilt my body during my last day at Royal Perth Hospital. Feels awesome to be sleeping on y side again! 
At work with my OT. Doing my splints for my retarded left arm. =x
After my first shower. Amazing feeling.

prepared and written by Zac Leow