DEC '12 - Desperate for visitors, An African reunion and a difficult Christmas time...

   August 8th 2011 I flew to Morocco on my own. I was going to volunteer with street children, within orphanages and various other locations. When I got on that flight I was absolutely crapping myself, I thought what if no-ones there with a sign waiting for me or it's some sort of scam or I get kidnapped at the airport! You'll be pleased to know none of that happened (well my pick up man was an hour late but he got there!) and it was the most amazing time! Anyway back to December 2012, two girls I met while in Morocco visited and we had a mini reunion. It was weird thinking what had happened since I last saw them 16 months ago, I was working in mountains and trekking waterfalls with them and now I was sat in a wheelchair. In fact I flew home on August 22nd 2011 and on August 22nd 2012 I was in intensive care having just come out of a coma. It was lovely to see them though and get out of the house and have some company.

A very small selection of photo's from Morocco!   

   Speaking of visitors December is when I started to really wish I had more of them. When the crash happened obviously everyone who knows you is horrified and so worried, so you're inundated with people asking to see you and sending cards and what not. But 4 months on I felt I was seriously lacking in people wanting to see me. I'm sure everyone still cared but I think people just assume when you've left hospital you're ok. Although everyone knew I couldn't put any weight through my legs and I needed more operations and everything else, I don't think it's easy to understand what that really means. When I say I'm living in the front room, I can't leave the house alone I mean exactly that. I can't even get a drink or anything to eat or my tablets myself meaning my mom has had to be off work for 4 months now and as she is a midwife that isn't great. I'm in constant pain and emotionally finding it really hard. Saying that some people have been amazing and try to speak to me and visit whenever they can and Joss is literally here any time he isn't at work and I couldn't cope without him.

Joss (without a head) pushing me around Stratford for his sisters birthday

  Christmas was pretty hard this year. While everyone was out getting monumentally drunk I was sat in bed downstairs injecting my stomach (I've been on daily blood thinning injections since the crash). I had bed covers as my main present because I just didn't know what to ask for, I can't go out and do stuff, I don't wear clothes that I normally wear, my hair is half shaven I just didn't know who I was anymore really. We even had to have our Christmas tree and open our presents in the hallway because I'm living in the room we normally do it in and it's too full of all my equipment. My wheelchair had to be lifted over the step in and out of the conservatory to eat Christmas dinner with my family and visiting grandparents. On a happier note I was invited to Nuneaton in the evening with Joss's family to have a meal with his grandparents and aunties and uncles which got me out the house and was really nice. My best present was realizing how easily I could of not been here to see this Christmas and just spending time with both of our families. 

My downstairs bedroom made Christmassy with lights and a mini tree!

DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

Wednesday 22nd August - Leaving ITU...

  On the 22nd of August 2011 I was flying home after spending time volunteering within orphanages and other placements in Morocco. I travelled there alone and it was tough but incredible.

  On the 22nd of August 2012 I was coming to the realisation that maybe I wasn't dreaming, after all you don't feel pain in dreams and jesus was I feeling pain. I spent the Tuesday night in ITU with my mom sat in a chair all night. She says I didn't sleep, I was flicking between panic attacks, agonizing pain and vulnerable wimpering. When I say I couldn't move for weeks I mean exactly that. I will obviously detail all my mobility progress in my posts but for the first few weeks I really couldn't move. I couldn't eat so nurses, Joss and my mom had to feed me high calorie drinks with a straw. I couldn't move my legs at all, I couldn't lift my arms or my head, all I could do was turn my head to face either side of the room.
  The Wednesday afternoon my lung drains were able to come out. They're pretty gross things, literally a big pipe that goes through your side into your lung and is attatched to this big pot (which I'm told was full of what looked like liposuction fluid NICE). The doctor asked me to breathe in and he literally pulled the pipe out, on each side. The holes are usually small enough to be left but mine were too big and had to be stitched up and eventually got infected. I now have a hypertrophic (raised) scar on both sides. The rest of the day is mostly a blur of Iv's, tablets and people asking me the same questions 'what's your name?' 'where are you?' 'what day is it?' to keep track of my head injury. The consultants eventually decided I could be moved to a ward and when they found a bed I literally had to move beds. To move beds in a condition like mine they have to use a 'Pat slide' this required a team of nurses, they put the beds next to each other, rolled me onto my side (another scream inducing ordeal) while the plastic board is put underneath, rolled back onto it and on a count they pull the board over to the next bed roll you again and remove it. (So much more excrutiating than I could possibley explain). I was taken up to the Military ward as the nurses on it specialise in Polytrauma's (mulitple serious injuries).
   On the way Joss's mum and sister Rhianna bumped into us. This is when I broke down about my hair. I had been told some of my hair had to be cut off to stop bleeding, at this point I had no idea the extent. My hair was waist length and I knew Rhianna would understand my devastation. She tells me since that she was shocked when she saw me as understandably you just can't imagine the extent of an accident until you see the victim. My face was still ballooned, I had two black eyes, my nostril had been stitched back on, the rest of my face and neck was a mess of grazes, I was lay flat on a hospital bed an easy removal gown over my front, with oxygen in my nose, tubes in both arms and I could hardly speak. I wish there was a photo of me at this time just to see how far I've come. Mom stayed in a chair next to my new bed that night, I had my own room on the military ward for infection control and I was the youngest patient on there (in all the wards I stayed in actually).
   I will write more tomorrow, DRIVE SAFE, George x