Today marks three months since my most recent round of botox injections, as well as almost three months since I started this blog, and the toxin is now out of my body so, in theory, the effect should have worn off too. I'm here to tell you that it definitely hasn't because, despite struggling with sciatica for the last week and being terrified that my spasms were coming back, the sciatica has gone and I walked twenty consecutive lengths of my room (in my hoist) just before blogging today!
How has this come about? Well, that's a question which brings me to the title of this post - a quotation from the opening monologue of Shakespeare's Richard III - and, thereby, from the monologue I chose for our speech presentation in this, my final week on the summer school at RADA. It's a piece of verse which deals quite frankly with Richard's disability and, as such, I thought it would be both interesting and cathartic. I didn't realise quite how cathartic, though, I must admit - and it got rather scary. In our session of Physical Performance following my first run-through of the speech on Thursday, all I could do was lie on the floor and weep, as these huge shudders (not spasms, because although I don't really know what they were, they weren't painful) coursed through my body. It was what I've always called an 'incubator moment', because it seemed to release subconscious memories of my early times in special care, and I felt as though I was in a glass box. The music appeared to get really loud, despite the fact that the volume didn't change, and I felt overwhelmed by the fact that my mum was so close but seemed so far away. Then, watching a brilliant fringe production of Donizetti's L'elisir d'Amore later that evening, I went into spasm and scared myself again - but I managed to hide it and relax. When I got home I got out of my chair almost completely independently, and every transfer since then has been similarly good, so I guess I had to work through stuff to come out the other side. I certainly have - and it's hugely thanks to the support of all of my wonderful new friends in my group at RADA, who are almost as gleeful at the speed of my progress over these three weeks as I am. This truly is a glorious summer - each step of the twenty lengths I've walked today was for them, full of gratitude for their awesomeness and acceptance.
Also, whilst I might not quite be at the standard of my namesake, Jess Ennis, I owe my spurt of inspiration to walk those twenty lengths to the knowledge that she was undertaking a feat (feet? Haha) of her own today. Congratulations, Jess, and go Team GB - you're certainly inspiring a generation, if only to walk to collect a degree!