Healing, Painting, and Learning to Appreciate the Little Things
A few weeks ago, my life took an unexpected turn when I had a bike accident.
Dom and I were out riding on our usual route, and about 2km from home, it started to drizzle. We thought if we picked up the pace, we might beat the heavier rain heading our way. As we were going downhill at a decent speed, I took a corner a bit too wide and ended up coming off my bike on the side of the road. I hit the ground hard, my helmet smashing against the bitumen. My knee also hit the bitumen with force, and I broke my radius in several places near the wrist.
My bike as it fell in the ditch.
In the ambulance waiting to be taken to hospital.
Dom called an ambulance because we knew I wouldn’t be able to make it home with the injuries I had sustained. A kind couple who live on our road stopped to help. They directed traffic and did their best to keep me calm while we waited for about half an hour for the ambulance. Once it arrived, I was taken straight to the hospital.
I spent two nights in the hospital. During that time, they inserted a titanium plate and screws in my wrist to hold the bones together. They also opened up my knee, cleaned the wound thoroughly, and stitched it back up.
My bent wrist waiting to be fixed.
I’m in casualty just after the doctor put a cast on my wrist and was looking at my knee injury.
While I’m incredibly thankful it wasn’t worse, the recovery process has been a struggle. Wearing a cast in the middle of summer is uncomfortable enough, but I didn’t anticipate just how much it would affect my daily life - even though it’s on my non-painting hand. Simple tasks have become challenging, and I’ve felt disconnected from my usual routines, including painting.
For someone who loves watercolour, I thought painting would be my refuge. But I’ve found it surprisingly difficult to muster the motivation or even the focus to create. The few times I tried, it didn’t go well. I felt clumsy, frustrated, and honestly a bit disheartened. It was as if the accident had drained my creativity along with my mobility.
I tried painting but it was difficult.
But as I’ve sat with these feelings, I’ve started to notice a parallel between my recovery and the process of painting in watercolour. Both require patience, flexibility, and a willingness to embrace imperfections. Just as a painting doesn’t always turn out the way you planned, healing doesn’t follow a perfect timeline. It’s a slow, sometimes messy process, but there’s beauty in the effort.
Lying in my hospital bed after surgery.
This experience has also given me a deeper appreciation for my health. It’s easy to take things for granted when everything is going smoothly. But losing the ability to do something as simple as bend my knee properly has been a wake-up call. In the same way, I’ve realised how often I take for granted the simple joy of holding a brush, mixing colours, and watching pigments flow on paper. These small moments are precious - both in painting and in life.
For now, I’m focusing on what I can do. Thankfully, I had a few paintings finished before Christmas, so I’ve been working on voicing them over for tutorials. I find myself getting tired more easily, so I’ve been leaving the studio early most days. Painting has been too uncomfortable with this tight cast, so I’ve decided to wait until it comes off, which should be mid-February. My knee still doesn’t bend properly, so I know I’ll need physiotherapy to regain full mobility.
If there’s one thing this accident has taught me, it’s to cherish the little things. Whether it’s a quiet moment spent painting or simply the ability to move freely, these are gifts we shouldn’t take for granted. So, to anyone reading this, take a moment to appreciate your health, your hobbies, and the things that bring you joy. They’re more precious than we realise until they’re taken away.
