One foot landed in front of the other, trudging through the mud and leaves on the floor, body slick with sweat from the exertion and humidity, lungs heaving to keep up with the bodies demand for oxygen, shoulders sore from 80kg load across them. The load starts to roll, no correcting this one, it falls to the floor. Pain, blinding pain shoots from the shoulder as the body crumples down to the ground, following the falling bundle. Try to twist into it, snap the shoulder out of the pain, doesn't work, eyes won't open, lungs no longer able to pull air in. Help comes and takes the load away.

"Are you ok mate? Stand up and shake it off, it's just sore is all"

Left hand try's to help push the body up, but is needed to hold the right arm. The feet scrabble to get the legs to push the body off the floor. With a grunt of exertion the body is standing once more, the right arm immobile, left hand cradling it, trying to ease the pain. Try to roll it and ease the mobility back, ow no, can't move right arm. Unable to carry on, back to the farm on the tractor. Left arm still cradling right, as body bounces up and down on the dirt road.

Back to the farm, lift back to the hostel, farmer angry that days work won't be completed. Back at the hostel, manager angry that not finished days work. Body just focused on breathing, holding the arm, managing the pain.

"That's dislocated that is" the Lancashire twang prominent even through the pain.

There it was, back into reality, my shoulder was dislocated, a fact I had been subconsciously aware of. My brain had in essence shut me out so it could manage the situation as I watched on from afar, but now I was back in reality. I looked at my right shoulder, my T-shirt visibly sagging in the gap between my shoulder and arm. The blood drained from my face, I started to panic, my breathing 10 seconds previous regulated and controlled was now gasping and ragged. The knowledge that I had seriously damaged my body was not something I could cope with. Eventually I was on a minibus heading for the hospital, with no sling, my arm bounced up and down, the panic escalated, I managed to get my breathing under control and cradled my arm, moving out of myself once more into a meditative state. I left the minibus and walked into the hospital.

"Hello" from the woman on the reception desk.

"Hi, I think I've dislocated my shoulder" my casual reply. Still holding my arm.

"Do you have Medicare?" The receptionist enquirer as she put a clipboard on the counter.

Oh gods, she's gonna ask me to fill forms in. "I do have Medicare" I reply panic once again returning to my voice, I can feel it trembling.

A doctor behind the counter strides round, "we'll get you in a room right now" he says "this way please" off he strides. I follow him gladly, just wanting to sit down, trying not to think about my situation. I find myself sat on a hospital bed. Right arm limp in my lap, the emptiness of my shoulder socket now prominent through my sodden shirt.

In walks the Scottish Doctor. She walks straight around the bed to touch my shoulder. "What's happened to you?" She asks in that matronly way only someone who's mothered sons can. Her assistant, a nurse who I think was Australian joined us to fill out he paperwork. I explained what I had done, trying to keep myself relaxed. Morphine was summoned for me straight away, my pain obviously visible through my strained laughter.

Then the question, this question I will remember for the rest of my life. Even now over six months on, I can remember the terror, I can remember the sudden apprehension and it still brings tears to my eyes.

"And where are you going to be staying"

To understand this fully, I need to take us back to the hostel. When I was dropped off at my working hostel, with my arm longer in my shoulder, I was told by the manager/owner/commandant of the hostel, that because I was broken she no longer had work for me and thus no longer had a bed for me, so they would drop me off at the bus stop when I got back from the hospital and I could go back to Cairns. With that in mind when the afore mentioned question was uttered, I lost my last semblance of control.

"I don't know. I've been kicked out of my hostel" my quietly muttered reply as tears sprang to my eyes. The last shred of control stripped away from I burst into tears. The sudden release of emotion, fear and control felt awful. I'm a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, I make no secret of this, I've cried before and I'll cry again. Probably in the next 24 hours. I'm an emotional person, but being so vulnerable and emotional in front of a complete stranger, that made me feel awful, I could feel my perception of dignity being stripped from me.

Time and agin Australia has shown me that the people here are truly lovely. This was to be no exception, the staff sorted out for me to stay in the house that they use for homeless patients or families visiting relatives from a long distance etc. They even said I'd be able to get two nights in there if I needed to as it was a public holiday. This kindness still too much on my already raw emotions kept the tears flowing......that is until they cracked out the laughing gas!

I have no idea how much morphine they gave me, I remember being injected three times. I remember them massaging my shoulder to try and get the bone back in the socket. I remember old mate Scotland saying it wouldn't work because my shoulder muscles were too big, even in my drugged up emotional state I was flattered by that comment! I was told to keep breathing in the laughing gas, which I did, next thing I knew I came to and my arm was all back together.

I came to giggling and manic. I remember seeing a man in the room who hadn't been there previously. "Who's this guy" I burst out laughing, "is this what drugs are like. I can see why people do 'me this is awesome." I've never known euphoria like it, coupled with the awesome low before hand I felt pretty good,

The rest is all boring admin, they made sure I knew not move my arm, slinged it all up for me, gave me painkillers, and then discharged me. Upon arriving back at the hostel I was told I could stay there that night, which was a bonus, because I was wrecked, I couldn't keep my eyes open, I kept drifting off in conversation.....yeah I was basically high.

The next day I was in Cairns, with a rucksack, duffel bag and my man bag (satchel) a cumulative weight of over 30kg. With one arm to carry them.....yeah it sucked man. I managed to get to Gilligans from the bus stop, and then used a shopping trolley to take my bags 3km across town to Nomads. I was to spend about a week here applying for jobs, my finances slowly dwindling down towards zero. I started to contemplate heading home. I was chronically sad, I felt broken and I've never felt that vulnerable in my life. Then I remember looking at the situation and thinking, "if I can come back from this, nothing will ever beat me agin."

I applied for a job as a barista/runner at the Coffee Club in Port Douglas, a town already on my radar as a recommendation from someone in Lorne. Went for the interview, nailed it, and got the job. On Saturday they 26th of April I was picked up by the Dougies backpackers resort bus and I was heading for Port Douglas.

I arrived in Port Douglas, physically and financially broken. I didn't realise until I was about to leave that I had been mentally damaged too, a friend said that when I arrived in Port Douglas, I was really quiet, shy and a bit withdrawn. Looking back I was, I didn't realise at the time how much it all affected my mentally, I've never felt more vulnerable or alone as I did I that brief dark time.Fortunately for me I moved into the greatest room Dougies has to offer, Room 19, and my life bounced back up dramatically!

Port Douglas and indeed Dougies helped me in a way I couldn't have foreseen. They changed my name, I became Frankie or Frank, to the point where I'm now having identity crisis issues. I know I'm strong enough person that I could have got myself back to where I was before on my own, but they got me so much further than that. I've reached a state of self acceptance I've not felt for a long time, I feel happier than I have in years and I feel so optimistic about life that I'm nearly skipping down the street. So many beautiful souls helped me through the last 6 months of my life I can't even begin to thank people individually, there truly is too many. Leaving Dougies was harder than leaving home (sorry family I love you guys) it wrenched my heart to leave people, who I would basically compare to family, behind I had actual tears rolling down my face as I left. I feel no shame in that, I f***ing love that place and more importantly I love the people.

All that said however a continuation of my travels is needed. Now here I am hitching my way down the east coast. No longer broken, healed, rebuilt like the Million Dollar man before me, and most importantly happy.

If you've read this far thank you for indulging me, I love you.

Peace