A short trip out

IT'S just not fair. They say if there's a light at the end of the tunnel it's just a train coming, and that's putting it optimistically.

For weeks and weeks, my wife has endured all the pain that goes with a slipped disc in the neck, not to mention the business of being inserted head-first into a narrow tube at the hospital for an MRI scan, a claustrophobic ordeal which she faced and overcame with the power of prayer and a Valium.

She's been going stir-crazy, gazing out of the window at our camper and wondering if she would ever be fit enough to enjoy it again.

So the other weekend - me with a Saturday and Monday off work, she with a craving to see the outside world again - we took the plunge, consulted a British camping sites book and set off early in the morning for a village on the banks of the River Thames near Maidenhead. She was like a prisoner on release day - free, happy and a little apprehensive.

Two hours later, we drove on to our pitch in brilliant sunshine. Rabbits were scampering around the hedgerows, ducks quacked outside the camper door, new-born lambs called to their mothers, the Sunday Times crossword awaited, there was a portable colour TV stowed away in the camper cupboard for the FA Cup semi-final later on, and there were two pubs, just a short stroll away down the country lane.

All was right with the world.

And so it remained, for about 90 minutes. At the nearest of the two pubs, we had a drink and a fluffy omelette with chips and decided to wander down the nearby footpath to the Thames.

Then she fell over.

Her left foot twisted under her into a nasty, unnoticed pothole, she pitched forward and crashed on to the gravel. After all those weeks of cautious, tentative progress around the house, every movement executed with care, less it worsened the condition in her neck, it was so damned ironic you wanted to cry.

Even worse, she virtually blacked out with the shock and the pain.

I helped her up into a half-sitting, half-lying position and tried to remember my first aid.

Treat for shock with hot sweet tea. Where was I going to get that from?

If the patient feels faint put the head between the legs - just the job for someone with a slipped disc!

Is it broken? She seemed to be able to move her toes.

Stay calm. Oh yes?

A non-stop stream of Sunday afternoon strollers and wiry men in wet suits with small canoes under their arms came by. Many passed by on the other side, probably assuming my wife was drunk (on one dry Martini and soda). A number of Good Samaritan types stopped and asked if they could help.

I adopted my brave, "Everything's OK really" face and thanked them for their trouble. But my wife kept giving the lie to this by trying to lie down on the gravel and go to sleep. In films, they don't let injured people go to sleep because they die. They keep them talking.

"What do you think of Fulham's chances against Chelsea this evening?" might have irritated her, what with everything else, so in the calmest voice I could muster, I encouraged her to adopt less of a slumped position, then to sit and finally to heave herself to her feet.

Eventually, after many stops for her to lean on gateposts, we found a kind young canoeist who drove us back to the campsite. We took stock of the situation, with not a little cursing, unhooked the electricity supply to the camper, backed out and drove home again.

Four hours on the road is a lot of driving, just for a pub lunch. But, hey, it's nice to get out!