by Ed Jackson
After about an hour we stopped, and I looked up to see a congregation of headlamps. Two more of our team had to turn around due to altitude sickness and one of the guides led them away. I could barely mumble, ‘Get down safe’, before they were gone. We were down to ten.
I was now walking behind James. One of the best things about the trip was meeting him. He’d really opened up in the last few days and was now the life and soul of the group. I’d already decided I was going to award him the ‘Golden Crampon’, which is the award I would give on each of these climbs to the person who had contributed the most and got the most out of the trek. To see his transformation was a real joy and one I wouldn’t forget.
I put my head down and zoned out for another few hours. One foot in front of the other. I ignored the biting cold, the wind attempting to freeze the skin on my face, the aches in my left side as it refused to wake up and the headache I was developing from the altitude. I ignored all those discomforts and pains and just concentrated on the current minute, the current second, as each step brought me closer to my goal.
I was jolted out of my trance by the red hue over Everest to the east. The sun was rising. As I became more alert to my surroundings, the doubts began to surface. With every step my body screamed at me to stop, but I knew things about myself now. I knew that my mind almost always gave up before my body and therefore I still had some gas in the tank. I had too many reasons to be here, too many reasons to want to succeed. And I was going to draw on all of my strength to make it happen.
Dipping my head, I pulled myself away from the tantalising views and stared down at my feet again and the snow underneath them. I needed to leave my body again and the thoughts that were trying to make me stop and turn around …
A shout from up ahead made me glance upwards. One of the group was pointing to the summit, which was only a few hundred metres away. For the first time I looked around and took in where I was. The world’s highest mountain, Everest, had a magnetic draw and I wondered if I would ever reach its summit and stare over at Mera. It felt like I was standing at the junction between the sky and the Earth. It was at that moment that I knew we would make it to the top. With the summit in sight we couldn’t turn back now.
With the last few steps, the cold seemed to recede and the sky brightened. A year of planning and dreams culminated in this moment. I was the first quadriplegic to summit Mera Peak and I’d achieved something I’d never thought possible, even when I’d been able-bodied.
As the sun hit my face, I closed my eyes. In my mind, I traced my steps backwards, down Mera and on to the plane. Further I went … back in time. On to the peak of Snowdon, where I realised what I wanted from life. Time wound back, to a key in the door, my wheelchair at the bottom of the staircase – discharged from hospital, independence having been fought for. In a split second, I was back to Salisbury Hospital, taking those first tentative steps, Lois always by my side. Weaving my way in the ambulance, I found myself in Bath and standing for the first time, Pete showing me that anything was possible. Travelling through the lanes to Bristol, a twitching toe, a spark of life in my finger. My family holding vigil, watching and waiting. Back to the operating theatre where Mr Barua made an incision and saved my life. Into a speeding ambulance where my heart stopped three times and my story nearly ended. To the side of a pool where I watched my younger self humming to himself as he kicked off his shoes, about to dive in.
Would I stop him? Would I tell him not to take those next steps?
No.
I wouldn’t change any of it. Without that ten-second incident, my life would not be as it is now. I had been thrown a curveball and I was playing it. Through my accident, I had found purpose, and that is what everyone needs to lead a fulfilled life; not riches, power, an able body or an exceptional mind.
Purpose is what fulfils us and often we have to embrace change to find it. I had learnt that from all the people who had come before me and successfully played their own curveballs. No matter what difficulties they had faced, the ones who could genuinely say they were happy were the ones who had found purpose and meaning to their lives. I knew now that I’d never really had this before my accident. But the perspective I had gained from nearly losing everything, and the satisfaction I got from helping others, had led me to accept and even embrace my injuries and their outcome.
I hoped that others would take courage from my story and apply it to their own lives. I had learnt that the human mind is incredibly adaptable. With the right mindset, it doesn’t take long to accept the past and start looking forward to the future.
Someone called my name and I blinked, opening my eyes. The wind picked up and whipped around the peak of Mera. I knew how lucky I was to have seen this, but it was time for us to climb back down again. Back to my new life – the one I wouldn’t swap for the world.
Acknowledgements
I hope that this book acts as an acknowledgement to all of the amazing people who have got me to where I am today. Without the support network of brilliant healthcare professionals, trusted family, passionate friends, committed charities and inspirational strangers, I quite simply wouldn’t be here, never mind sat writing the acknowledgments to my first book!
It’s impossible to personally thank everyone who has impacted my life – otherwise this would read more like a telephone directory and take up an ungodly amount of space on your bookshelf – but I can’t end without naming a few.
Firstly, to my mum for bringing me into the world and showing me what unconditional love is, and to my dad for teaching me that hard work and having fun can go hand in hand. To Sue, for unashamedly doing anything and everything to help, and to my brothers Josh, Chris and Harry for keeping me entertained in hospital along with all of my weird and wonderful friends. To the surgeon Mr Barua, for giving me a fighting chance, and to Pete Bishop, Wyn Lloyd, Kim Small, Ceri Parham and Restart, to name but a few, for helping me turn that chance into results. To Matt Hampson, Henry Fraser and David Smith, for providing inspiration from the start, and to all of the thousands of people who continue to do so every day. I thank you all. I know she wouldn’t want it, but I must thank Bev James for persuading me my story was worth telling, and Kate Fox and Lisa Milton for agreeing with her. Also, a huge thank you to the incredible Amy Warren for holding my hand and helping me tell my story in a way that I couldn’t have done on my own.
Finally, thank you to all of the whacky and wonderful people that broaden my mind on a daily basis, including of course my incredible wife and mentor, Lois, who gives me purpose in everything that I do and wilfully joins me on this beautifully unpredictable journey that we call life.
Picture Section
Playing for Wasps in 2014.
Tony Marshall/Stringer/Gettyimages sport Gettyimages
Narrowly escaping a tackle from Bundee Aki when playing for the Dragons in 2016.
Huw Evans Picture Agency
9 April 2017, my second day in intensive care.
18 April 2017, my tenth day in intensive care and the first time that I was able to go outside. I was so happy to see my dogs, Barry and Molly.
The legendary Lay-Z-Readers. These glasses used mirrors to allow me to see around the room, so that I could look at more than just up people’s noses.
Eating dinner on the tilt table in Helena Ward while Molly looks on in May 2017.
Using a zimmer frame as a makeshift bench press with the support of Pete, Lois and friends at the Royal United Hospital in Bath.
Using a MOTOmed in Salisbury’s specialist spinal unit.
28 May 2017, my first trip to the pub since my accident, with Dad and Souto.
Practising standing again with the help of Kim in Salisbury.
My first ‘off piste’ adventure with Pete and Wyn, August 2017.
Getting close to Snowdon’s summit in April 2018, with Wyn standing by to support me in case I slipped.
Returning to Helena Ward to see the amazing nurses and physiotherapists who helped me on my journey t
o recovery.
Feeling on top of the world after being able to walk down the aisle unaided to marry Lois in Italy.
Standing at the peak of Mont Buet with my stepmum, Sue, almost 18 months after my accident.
Me and Lois with the welcoming party who greeted us off the airplane in Nepal, outside the spinal unit in Kathmandu.
The view of Mount Everest from the top of Mera Peak, Nepal.
Proud to have reached the summit of Mera Peak with Bigraj, Rich, Doc and Millimetres 2 Mountains supporters in November 2019.
COULD YOU HELP OTHERS FACING ADVERSITY?
Initially we established the Millimetres 2 Mountains Foundation to support the spinal unit in Nepal, which we still proudly do, but the main aim of the charity has developed into offering others facing similarly difficult challenges in life the same opportunities I’ve been lucky enough to have. I recognise the undeniable impact that the outdoors has had on my recovery, and I want to help others experience that too.
Every year we take beneficiaries facing mental health struggles because of adversity on adventures across the globe. These trips act as a catalyst for change, after which we offer on-going support in the form of life coaching, funding towards therapy, career grants and much more to ensure the individual can take steps toward a brighter future.
I never dreamed I would be in the privileged position to pay forward some of the amazing support I’ve received, and we wouldn’t be doing it without the generosity of so many so from the bottom of my heart … thank you.
To find out more about Millimetres 2 Mountains, or what you can do to support us, please visit:
www.millimetres2mountains.org
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