Original subtitles

X-ray

It was a real blow...

It's been 3 years now but I still can't get over it.

I try to take it with a pinch of salt...

but only not to see things so clearly.

I resent my fate.

It's handicapped us, discarded us and made us inactive.

I don't want to throw around empty metaphors

but it's as though you're a theatre audience.

You can watch but you can't take part yourself.

I'm a, how shall I say,

a social animal.

I like having people around me.

I want to know everything.

I'm one of those people who will squeeze in everywhere.

I mean, I'm not a sly boots or anything,

I just seem to get through to people easily.

And this illness obviously rules out certain things right from the word go.

Some people really brought it home to me...

What got me down the most was that it was the people...

the closest people, or at least I'd thought of them as such.

If your lungs stop you from doing your job,

and I'm a brass musician,

then you're forced to give it up and come up with something else to do,

which is not so simple once you hit 40.

It's a tad too late to look for a profession.

When I'm in charge of a construction site I know that,

right here, there's going to be a building.

And, how shall I put it, it's something that's there to stay,

and, you know, you can't just rub it out.

You do some jobs

and there's nothing there afterwards.

For instance, when you're lucky with your programme

and it includes pieces that you like, or love.

When they happen to be in your repertoire you feel this strange pleasure when

you hear individual sections of those pieces.

I guess, I miss that more than anything.

So here I am. I miss it...

What can I say, I'm practically a nobody here...

I'm dying to get onto a building site.

That's where I am somebody...

Here I'm torn up by the roots.

I even loose my confidence.

I need to find myself something to do. You deliberately come up with things.

I never used to do any craftwork,

and some time ago I just started to do these tapestries.

There's over 3 thousand knots on each one,

but I did them out of necessity, to make the day go by.

When I came here, I thought I'd found a perfect retreat.

Comfort, excellent conditions, food served on time,

cleanliness, lots of sleep and not a worry in the world.

After three months I'd had it completely.

I'm going on leave today.

Sometimes I shop for silly bits and bobs at my old shops.

I get peculiar pleasure out of joining the queue, whereas in the past

I used to get annoyed at the sight of few people in front of me.

You got used to a certain lifestyle

over the years like the daily shopping for bits and pieces.

Life used to be made up of those little chores,

among other things.

And here at the spa where everything is provided

you miss having to face every day problems.

As far as I'm concerned, I'm here for treatment,

but in reality someone's paying for me, aren't they,

someone's working for me.

In that sense, I mean it's not a waste,

but my time is useless.

At this moment I am completely redundant.

Well, that's how I see it. This is how I feel about it.

And that's the reason why I feel... sad.

Sometimes I seriously wonder what's going to happen to me in the future.

Because if I could stay...

but it doesn't look like I'll be here much longer,

so I don't know.

When you sit down and rationalize everything

you manage to order everything in such a way that

you can find a way out of every situation.

The worst thing you could do though is go to bed

in an anxious state of mind and start to think about it all.

The problems grow to such proportions

that you think they're impossible to overcome.

But that's not a healthy way of being.

For me, Sunday's the worst day.

Maybe because you've got so much time on your hands.

When it's sunny there's the club, you can watch a film,

but that's not enough.

Especially when all the visitors arrive looking all fit and cheerful.

Then they all go back to their homes while you're stuck here.

That's why sometimes I don't go to bed.

I'd like to go back to being just like everyone else,

to go back to work, you know,

maybe to have my family back.

All I miss, really, is my work.

Idleness tires me out. Any kind of work would do...

of course one that I could handle in my condition.

I'm not giving up, you know,

I've always managed to get myself back on my feet.

I'll never stop hoping that I'll get better.

I've decided that I want to be healthy.

I've got my moments of despair but it takes me virtually 10-20 minutes

to pull myself together. I've got to make it.

Maybe that's why I've always come out of these situations in one piece.

I kept on going for treatment calmly, without any fear.

I never stopped believing that I'd pull through.

Even in January and February when the doctors lost hope.

And it was really bad then.

They wouldn't give me a cat in hell's chance, as they say.

But I didn't once think that it was the end.

If I get my health back nobody will be able to tell me that

I'm not a fully-fledged person.