It is almost two years since British author Hanif Kureishi was left paralyzed after fainting and falling on his head while in Rome.

The writer — who rose to prominence tackling complex social issues in novels like “Buddha of Suburbia” — had to deal with the trauma of his accident and a new way of living.

His book Shattered is a brutally honest account of his recovery so far.

I asked him if his memory of what happened was still painfully sharp.

Hanif Kureishi: There are two sides to what you said, I mean during the day I’m writing, working, doing interviews like this. I am a coherent, articulate person who could not think about the tragedy that happened to him. But the night is anguish. I scream, I cry, I shout.

Cathy Newman: And is this physical pain or emotional pain? What causes this?

Hanif Kureishi: It’s a mixture of self-pity and horror, really. You have a trauma and you react to that trauma after it happens and reorganize your life and so on. But later, as the months go by, I think the fact that you can’t go back to your previous life, a life that you loved, that you enjoyed, becomes more and more excruciating to contemplate.

Cathy Newman: Just explain, as you do in the book, the ways in which you’re kind of broken by what happened.

Hanif Kureishi: I am torn by what happened. But on the other hand, you reorganize around a trauma. And when I was in Rome, in the intensive care unit of the first hospital, and I asked Isabella, my partner, to start transcribing my ideas and thoughts about what happened to me. And I did that almost immediately. And she was sitting on the end of the bed with her phone wildly beating on it while I shouted from the bed trying to write an account of what happened to me. So despite being completely done, I still wanted to talk and I still wanted to be a writer. And I started writing these blogs with my son Carlo as well. And they went around the world very quickly.

Cathy Newman: One of the things that really comes across in the book is how difficult it is to live with a disability. What have you learned about how society treats people with disabilities?

Hanif Kureishi: Just walking the streets every day, as I do in the afternoon through this area where we’re talking now, you realize how hard it is. I can’t go into most of the shops here. They have impossible steps. So the world is not very built for disabled people. People park on all the streets, there are bicycles all over the street. I can’t get up on the street.

Cathy Newman: One of the darkest parts of the book is about a month after your accident where you write, “I feel depressed. I am in despair. I don’t want to be here. i want to go home I’d rather die now’. And now that the assisted dying bill is going through parliament. Do you support the bill as it stands or not?

Hanif Kureishi: Yes, absolutely. I absolutely believe that people have the right to end their lives.

Cathy Newman: Clearly, the bill would not apply to someone like you with the kind of condition you have, only those with terminal illnesses. Is it the right balance, do you think? Are the right type of safeguards in place?

Hanif Kureishi: I think we need to return agency to the people. And I think for many people, that life can become so meaningless and intolerable. We must respect their freedom and right to make decisions. Some people are in such despair. You could call it terminal despair, that I would fully support their right to end their life.

Cathy Newman: What do you hope to do in a year, two years from now? You talk in the book about your hopes, wondering if you’ll ever walk again?

Hanif Kureishi: I don’t think about it physically. Doctors never talk about it. They never make a prognosis. I can stand up. Maybe in the next few months I could start taking a step or two. I can’t use my hands. I can’t write. But there are things I can do through other people, using their love for me and their support for me to get things done. So I can write books, I can write plays. I want to write a film with two of my sons about my experiences in the hospital. So I’m still here, I’m motivated. There are things I want to do, people I love and reasons to keep living.