Wednesday, October 6, 2004

Who Is Solo Tremaine?

I originally wrote this in my Blog, which hasn’t been active since before I started this one. I’m modifying my original entry though, so those few of you who’ve read it before (I think I can think of three) won’t be entirely bored, heh. I’ve divided it into two posts. The whole thing is very very long indeed. Some of it you probably already know, but at least this way it’s in one place. I’m not expecting people to read all the way through it. Even half of it would be a push. But it’s something I want to get down. Who is Solo Tremaine? It all started on Tuesday 23rd July, 1985. Three days early, in a Chichester hospital, a small boy was born: Hugo Ralph Jackson. I don't remember much about anything from that point (I don’t even remember that point, frankly) until primary school, save for the odd second or so at Nursery School. That was a laugh. My friends there were Dan and Ben and I liked them a lot. One of my earliest memories I have (from Nursery School) was at Dan's third birthday party. His mum had been in a serious car crash and had broken her back- she’s still in a wheelchair today -meaning the party was being held at Dan's grandmother's house. I have only one memory of the garden. There was a climbing frame with a slide on it over to the right by some trees, much similar to the one we had up until a few years ago. I remember looking towards the door of the house and feeling rather sad. I don't know why. Before that we'd been to some kind of railway museum exhibition thing that looked very exciting, and I remember wanting to get inside the signal box with everyone else. But I wasn't allowed to, which annoyed me greatly >.> Then came pin the tail on the donkey. I was a bastard, and this is my secret. They didn't put the blindfold on well enough so I could actually see underneath it. With this flaw in their game security, I was able to stab the donkey’s arse in exactly the right place. I still hate myself for doing that. Not just because it was cheating, but because I think of all the other children who wanted to win the prize for getting it in the right place honourably and losing to me because I cheated. And I think I even knew it was wrong then, but I got the prize and that was all that mattered when I was actually doing it. There was this bully at the Nursery School as well. He was much taller than the other kids, and he was black. He pushed me over for some reason (probably just because). I seem to remember people taking things of mine and wanting to play with things just because I had them. And of course, I wanted things that other people had too, but I’d always wait until they’d finished using them before taking anything. Another vague memory I have is sitting in the barn building at the nursery and listening to some kid reciting the alphabet. I was jealous- I knew the alphabet too >.> He wasn't the only one. Just because he could speak faster and make it sound impressive... The next memory I have is at Primary School. It was the very second day, and I'd just pushed my friend off a log. He started to cry. I hadn't meant to make him cry. But I don’t even know why I did it- it was only meant as a bit of fun. I started crying myself, and I got the dinner lady to pick him up again because I was sorry. I would like to think that that was the last of my bastard days, but it wasn't quite. Later on that year I pulled away another friend's chair when he was going to sit down on it. I think he hit his head on a shelf behind him. Instantly I knew he must have hurt himself, but he didn't cry or anything. I was sorry. But he didn't cry. He didn't do anything. It just made me feel empty. I didn't do it to try and elicit a cry from him; I don't know why I did it. Probably because on TV when you see these things you expect them to be immensely funny, but they really aren't up close. I wanted something to happen just to let me know I'd done something. A laugh would have indicated it was funny, a cry that it wasn't. But there was nothing. He walked away and I chased him around the classroom for ages trying to apologise. I don’t think he let me… Maybe that's why I try and do things, to get some kind of reaction, or a nice mention somewhere. To know that something I've done has made a difference, good or bad. Then I can learn from what I’ve done and try and set things right again. Although now I can distinguish more between right and wrong I have a better idea of what to do. But it’s not always correct, as I’ve learnt from painful experience >.>. Back then, things were just more grey. You didn't know that you were doing anything good or bad until you got a response. Turning Point Sports Day, Mid-July 1993. My left hip started giving me problems while I was running, and it started hurting really badly. So, my mum took me to the doctor's surgery to get it looked at. He suggested that I have an X-ray done. Mum didn't tell me at first what was wrong, but suddenly I had to sit in a wheelchair. I was quite surprised when I came home to find a SNES waiting for me with a copy of Super Mario World. I played for ages that night- so long in fact that I was actually sick. It was a great game, heh. Although no sooner had I got that then it was my eighth birthday. That Friday morning I got up (carefully, to save my leg) and came downstairs. I got lots of presents: a camera from my dad’s parents in Newcastle, four Thunderbirds figures and a Dr Who video- Planet of the Spiders. I was so excited! I pretty much skipped breakfast and went up to watch the video in Dulcie's room. About halfway through the video the phone rang. It was one of my primary school friends, so I hurriedly left Dulcie's room to go downstairs and brag about all my lovely lovely presents. I got down the stairs all right, but to save putting weight onto my bad leg I decided to try and hop about on my right. It makes sense if you think about it. What my mum hadn't told me, at least I don't think she told me, was that my leg was in a very serious condition. There was a massive cyst stretching from one edge of the femur to the other, like a large hole covering the entire neck of the bone. The only bits attaching my leg to the rest of me were egg-shell thin, which was why mum wanted me in a wheelchair. While I was hopping to the dining-room I lost my balance. I hit the floor with what my mum's mother said was a 'sickening crunch'. I screamed, but I can't remember the pain. My sister sprinted downstairs and my grandmother Doris came to see what had happened. I couldn't move my leg, and it hurt to touch. I completely forgot about the phone call to my friend. Mum had gone shopping with my younger sister to get me a birthday cake. Dad was at work. My grandfather was too dilapidated to notice anything was wrong. My grandmother called the local doctor who came round straight away and told me that I’d broken my leg. I watched the rest of the video to try and take my mind off the pain. It worked intermittently, and I even remember being able to laugh at some of the funny bits. Then mum came home. I was so sorry that I was there, with my leg broken. Although we tried for an ambulance there weren't any available, so she drove me in our (then new) people carrier. All I could think of was how sorry I was for ruining everything: the holiday, mum's day, everything. She looked frightened. My mum hardly ever looked frightened, and it scared me to death. The junior doctor who looked at me almost fainted at the X-rays. It turned out that when I'd fallen over the bone had completely shattered. There was almost nothing left of the neck of the femur. After that things got hazy. Having more or less not had anything for breakfast I was very weak. Technically I wasn’t supposed to have been having anything anyway because I was due for an operation, but because I was in such a state they allowed me 20ml of water every 20 minutes. I was glad they let me have something, meagre as it was. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed with a large metal frame over my legs. It was dark, and I could see two people standing at the end of my bed- my parents. They told me that they had to leave. Naturally I was upset, but so tired that I fell asleep almost straight away. The next day was... well, I would say nice, but it really wasn't. I did get a pleasant surprise, though. My uncle and aunt came in to see me and had bought an inflatable dinosaur for me as a present. I loved it, heh. It was a pity that I couldn't get up and play with it immediately but it was great to see them anyway. I wanted them to stay for longer. I wanted to see someone I knew instead of having to watch Tarka the Otter (something I thought sounded better than it actually was) constantly. I couldn’t even roll onto my side or anything. I was completely stuck. Later that day my mum came in with the birthday cake she’d bought the day before, although she had to leave soon afterwards. It had a small marzipan dog on it, and I remember feeling very strange. It was for me- the whole ward was singing ‘Happy Birthday’, and it was for me. But I wasn’t at home. My mum wasn’t there. I almost felt like crying. A week or so later, just before I was moved to a different hospital, I remember talking to the consultant who was dealing with me. He had an American accent, and I remember asking him “Are you American?” “Yes.” he said, very elegantly. I very much appreciated what he'd done for me. “But you can't be American. You're not fat.” He and his associates found this incredibly funny ^_^;. I realise now that that was a very xenophobic and rude thing to say about Americans. But I was only eight, and I had just had the worst accident of my life. Later that day I was moved to a specialist hospital in Greater London, where I continued to go for another five years before becoming a permanent outpatient at a hospital in London and then finally being 'free' in October 2001. Why was that day so important? Lots of people break legs and things. I guess it was because I felt so bad about breaking my leg (it was my fault, really) and having been such a burden to everyone that I started to try and tolerate much more pain, so people wouldn't have to go out of their way to try and help me. I had to put up with an awful lot of pain, too, and this was the beginnings of making me the person I am today. There's a turning point in everyone's life. This was mine. Part 2 tomorrow.

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