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An update is in order. Last month, I dictated my Ouch column down the line, as I lay in bed in Geneva, having become paralysed. Two days afterwards, I was undergoing spinal surgery back in Newcastle. Three long weeks later, I am embarking on two months of rehabilitation in Middlesbrough (not an address I'd ever envisaged admitting to).

It wasn't a traumatic accident, just an unfortunate side effect, which results in some people whith achondraplasia becoming paraplegic due to constriction of the spinal cord. It's possible that I'll get feeling and function back - although it seems unlikely, given that I've got minimal movement below my thighs. So, in middle age, I face a whole new impairment scenario, forced to rethink housing, employment, lifestyle and fight to regain as much independence as possible.

Of course, I realise that this happens to thousands of people. Just as all my spinal cord injured friends have managed and come to terms, so will I. From my research and experience, I know I can achieve a happy and successful life as a wheelchair user. I'm not freaked out by disability. But I do mourn the mobility and freedom which I have now lost.

Above all, I have discovered a whole new world: rehabilitation. I'd never given it much thought before. Us academics and activists spend a lot of time debating the medical and social models, impairment versus barriers, but we tend to ignore the vital bit in between, where people work to maximise their ability and relearn their bodies. Many disabled people perhaps never have to think of rehab either. But anyone who has spinal cord injury, or stroke, head injury or a similar life changing impairment will have had to rebuild their functioning, one day at a time. Not to mention all the kids with cerebral palsy and other conditions which require regular therapy to maximise mobility, dexterity and strength.

So what have I learned so far? First off, rehabilitation isn't glamorous. It's boring, and difficult, and frustrating. Progress, I have discovered, is glacially slow. One day, I manage to sit up without assistance: result! Another day I have a flicker of power in a hamstring muscle: triumph! But most days, it doesn't feel as if I am getting anywhere at all: misery.

Second, almost without exception, all the nurses and physios and support staff have been fantastic. Some of the doctors could have done with improved communications skills, but I couldn't fault their professionalism. A visitor from the West Bank asked "why are you, a middle class academic, in a public hospital?". My friend and I explained that in the UK, the NHS is as good as it gets. I'd never spent any time in hospital before, but I am hugely impressed with everything (except the food), and deeply relieved to live in a nation which offers citizens such high standard healthcare, and all free at point of delivery.

Third, I have gained new respect for my friends who have been through rehab and regained a good quality of life, because now I realise a little of what they have endured. It's not something people tend to talk about. Perhaps it's so grim that people try to forget about it as soon as they can. I regularly ring a close mate who himself has spinal cord injury and spent nine months in hospital more than a decade ago. I am not sure he likes to be reminded of those days, but learning from his experiences is hugely helpful as I follow the same slow path to recovery.

Finally, paralysis gives you a different perspective on what matters in life. For example, and I'm not taking the piss here, I have discovered how important bladder and bowel control can be. I am not so bothered about ever walking again. I am even philosophical about sexual performance. But I am mightily frustrated with not being able to do basic toilet functions. This is a family website, so I won't go into details, merely to say that my current situation is both humiliating and painful, and I long for a day when I don't have a four hourly catheter routine. Hence, lying in bed willing myself to wee. I guess I'll get used to it, or get over it, or possibly, get through it. But right now, I dream of waking up in a puddle of my own urine. Sad, but true.