I started to cry, not the howling blubbering cry, a silent sob. As if maybe the tears could stop the pain, but they did not. I thought a million thoughts, I tried to will the pain away. I could feel my legs and toes, they hurt like hell, I could move my toes in my boots, I knew I could feel them.
You know the stories of people who loose limbs and still feel pain and itches and stuff, so I was confused and terrified, I could feel my toes, but was I just tripping, was the pain just making me cling onto a false hope.
I now know those stories are real, you do feel a lost limb, it does hurt, it does haunt you, like some kind of lost part of your soul. Years later I crushed the end of my right index finger off in a garage door, believe me the bit that’s gone, hurts me every fucking day.
The pain was everything, I just closed my eyes, hung on and sobbed my eyes out, the longest eight hours of my life.