27th September - Discharged from hospital...

I struggle to start all of these posts but this one is especially hard. 'Discharged' sounds so final but it was just the beginning really.
I had to see the doctors and they explained that we were keeping the wound/burn clear of infection with the dressings and letting it heal over because the skin grafts hadn't worked. Then they would look into more surgery in the future. I would be coming back to the Queen Elizabeth pretty much every week as I would have appointments with -

• Nurse clinic for dressing changes 
• My Burns consultant 
• My trauma&orthopedics consultant
• Xray's - Pelvis, hip, femur (thigh), wrist
• Physiotherapy
• Psychotherapy
• My Liver consultant
  
                                                       My new second home QEHB
  

I spent the day in hospital having blood tests and waiting for my prescriptions to go through for my medications to take home. I was eventually discharged at about 5pm. Mum helped me into some horrible tracksuit bottoms and a jumper and shoes! Pretty much hadn't worn clothes or shoes for 6 weeks.
I then went round to give cards to those I wanted to thank. I left one at the burns unit and then Joss took me round to Critical care unit C, the intensive care ward I was on. I had a card for the nurse I had on the Tuesday (the day I woke up) and the nurse I had on the Wednesday. It was scary going in there again because I didn't know what it looked like before I was either in a coma or barely conscious. On there you have one to one nursing and the state I was in I got very attached to those nurses. Then I went up to 412 my main 'home' for my time in hospital. I had a collective card and chocolates for the staff and one for my favourite nurse. It's hard to explain the attachment and not everyone who's been in hospital will have it, I think the extremely vulnerable mental and physical state I was in and my age meant they were more than medical carers to me.

I had my first post hospital cry when we got to the car, I realized I needed to pee and if I waited til I got home I would have to go in the commode in my new downstairs bedroom. Kindly Joss and mom took me back to hospital to use that toilet but it was sinking in what being at home was going to be like. Joss made a status 'Georgia's coming home!' it got 63 likes, but I wasn't happy to be home. I cried when I saw the ramps to get inside, I cried when I went into our beige dining room and there was a double bed with a back support a special table and the dreaded commode. I cried when I had to use the commode. Joss tried his best and got some scarves and photos from my real bedroom to try and make it better, I must of seemed so ungrateful but I was absolutely heart broken. I didn't know who I was anymore.

                                                  Not the actual commode I cant face that!

                                       The same luxury back support I have to have on my bed...

DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

Wednesday 26th September - First real shower!!!

   So as I have said many times before my 'washing situation' was weird and always changing...
Briefly -

• Intensive care - Rolled and wiped down to try and prevent bed sores. Agony.
• 1st 3 weeks on Trauma ward - Rolled and bed bathed daily by nurses.
• 4th Week on Trauma ward - Showered on special chair daily to clear burn infection.
• 1st week and a half on Burns Unit - Hair washed over special bath by nurses and only allowed to wash at sink to not get graft VAC dressing wet. 

So Monday My graft was again confirmed failed but they decided to try and help the wound heal with dressings. Wednesday  morning my nurse came in and asked if I wanted a shower?..erm YES!

She helped me onto the commode toilet/shower chair and wheeled me into 'my' bathroom (I was allowed to use the treatment bathroom as mine because of the wheelchair). Wheeled me into the far corner where the shower is, helped me undress and took my backdressing off, wrapped my donor site dressing in a bin liner and...LEFT!
First time in 6 weeks I was in a bathroom in the shower alone, no cast wrapped in a bag! She left all my wash things on another chair next to me and I had to figure out how to do it all myself! It was a lot harder than you probably think, trying to wash my 'hair' (the half left) without touching the big skinned section of my scalp and my shoulder injury's. I was desperately trying to avoid touching my burns and I couldn't bend down or wash the backs of my legs but it was AMAZING!


When I was done I pulled the nurse cord and she came back, followed by a team of doctors. She asked them to wait outside while she came through the privacy curtain and helped my dry and dress my bottom half. Then I had to hold a towel over my chest so the doctors could come and look at my back. After my mum arrived and a conversation with her the decided if she felt confident to do my infection control dressing I could be discharged tomorrow! I will add she was allowed to do it because she is a midwife and so understands how to perform infection control and I would be coming in every week to see the nurses here anyway. So they showed her exactly what to do and I eventually went back to my bed very excited indeed!

Monday 24th September - Graft review...

   Monday 24th September 2012 I woke up nervous! I was having my second skin graft reviewed today. The first one as I explained here, was traumatic first I was told it had taken then I was told it had completely failed, was massively infected and I needed another one as soon as the infection was gone. My burns consultant came to see me the day before and told me that if it had failed again I might be able to go home for a few days but then come back for another graft.
   Even though I had gone through ALL of this and one failed graft I still thought 'It wont be failed again, it wont happen to me'. I was given lots of morphine and sat up and my Vac dressing taken off, the curtain around my bed was shut and I had to wait for my consultant. My mom was texting me trying to find out what was happening, this was a BIG event. The outcome of this affected my future scarring, whether I could leave hospital, Operations...
   Eventually Mr V arrived with a bundle of medical students and junior doctors. A nurse came in to hold my hand while he looked at my back. It was silent for about a minute and then I heard him say 'where is the graft?..' I felt sick, completely devastated. After some discussion between themselves he asked them all to leave so he could speak to me privately. (something I really value in this consultant) He looked sad, he specifically chose to take over my care and knew what I'd been through and how much I wanted to go home. He explained that it had almost all failed again, I asked about having another but after a chat with my nurses and their colleagues they decided I had to stay in a few more days but we'd treat the burn with dressings soaked in beta-dine again and try and avoid another graft. I was happy because I wanted to go home and couldn't face another gruelling skin graft operation but it meant my scarring would be worse. It also meant that again my body had failed to accept its own skin, it may be silly but that in itself is hard to accept.
   Now I had to have the dreaded staples out again, I was going to attach a photo of a similar graft but thought you may prefer just the staple instruments for less gore!

I wont ramble on about how much having the staples out hurts again but Just think - big full thickness burn, open wound, actual staples being pulled out...The only benefit to having such a severe burn is that it has burnt through everything including nerves so I could only feel the ones around the edge being taken out not the ones imbedded in the burn!
DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

 

Sunday 23rd September - Cast off left in A&E...

    You may have read in my earlier posts that my broken wrist wasn't noticed until almost 3 weeks after the accident when I couldn't use it to get into my wheelchair. Despite the fact that I could of made the break worse and the pain it was kind of a good thing because it meant they only left the cast on for 2 and a half weeks.
    On Sunday 23rd September the nurse said I would be having my cast taken off 'later'. It's an amazing hospital but when I had to have something done it generally took hours if not days and involved being wheeled around in the bed or chair trying to end up in the right place. I was even abruptly taken out of the toilet on the trauma ward with my nurse trying to keep my dignity and rushed to a heart scan that wasn't in any way for me!
    Anyway as usual it happened during visiting time! My friends Beckie and Ryan came to afternoon visiting with Joss that day. I think I had about 10 minutes with them before a porter showed up, most porters I had were lovely but some were not so. They showed up with a patient chair (picture below), I pointed out that I have my own actual wheelchair as I cant stand or walk, he looked annoyed. I couldn't of sat in his chair even if I wanted to as I have to use a special cushion to keep my pelvis in place! (cringey I know)

He went off to talk to a nurse and came back for me with my notes, he got me to carry them (pretty hefty pile I can tell you!) and Joss came with me. I told Beckie and Ryan I'd be as quick as possible and got taken away. The porter clearly had no idea where to take me and we ended up going through Resus and A&E, this was quite traumatic for me. Luckily there was no-one being rushed in or anyone in a bad state but it affected me a lot. Knowing I'd been rushed in from the helicopter people shouting things like 'female, 19, motorbike vs car....' I wouldn't of been taken into the a&e people wait in with broken ankles and lego in their nose but it was still upsetting. The porter pushed me into the room where they take casts off/put casts on said something to the poor doctor/nurse and buggered off. There was a woman in the room getting a cast luckily she wasn't bothered that I was in there! The man was trying to sort out why I was there, everyone (staff) was confused and shocked that I was an inpatient and had been brought down to a&e let alone left there! Thank god joss came with me! We had to go and wait in the corridor with other people waiting to be seen. I felt very self concious, I was sat in my wheelchair in my pjamas wrapped in a blanket. Obvious wounds and half my hair shaved off with a huge dressing on my head, with everyone else there like in normal clothes. 

Eventually the nurse took me to have my cast off, they literally use a round electric saw (I'd never broken anything before this) she said though that they couldn't x-ray it, I'd just have to put my splint on and wait back on my ward for xray. 

Guess what, that Xray was done at evening visiting time! Luckily I didn't need to have a cast put back on!

DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

Thursday 20th September - Moved to a shared room...

     The day after my second skin graft Joss and my mom were in the room with me when the sister came in and told me they had to move me to a shared room. They packed my things, unplugged my bed and wheeled me up the corridor and into this big empty room. I was crying because every change was so frightening to me. I had been in my own room for 5 weeks since leaving the intensive care unit and I liked it that way. Not because I was loving that I got a private room, but it was an ordeal every time I had to use the bathroom - the toilet in this room was on the opposite side of the room next to the other bed which was currently empty. I liked that in my own room I could just lie with the tv on and pretend none of this was real, I couldn't even use my laptop on this ward and I was worried about having to make conversation with whoever shared the room. I'm not the kind of person who can just shut the bed curtain and ignore someone but I was too weak to talk lots. The one plus of this room was there were a few high up small windows! An ounce of natural light!
   From this day I had a new person in my room everyday and quite frankly it was horrible. I will give you an outline of the 'one-nighters' without giving any info about them just in case! They were all women as you can't mix sexes in the 2 bed bays.
Night 1 - Burnt hands from sticking them in a bonfire. Snored so loud the nurse was actually distressed that I would be unable to sleep. Discharged next morning.
Night 2 - Planned operation. TV unbearably loud all night. Discharged next morning.
Night 3 - Thrown aerosol on fire 'sunburnt' face. Discharged next morning.
Night 4 - NO-ONE!
Night 5 - Tea spilt in lap. Dramatic antics. Discharged next morning.
Night 6 - Lovely old lady who had falleed until I left.n down the stairs (only available bed). Stayed until I left

    I hate to seem un-caring but it was very very hard to have sympathy for the majority of these. They kicked up more fuss than I had the whole time about very minor injuries and moaned like they were being kept in a prison. I also had a few thoughtless comments about a singed fringe when I was lying there with half a shaved scalp.
   But they weren't to know that I wasn't in the same vote as them (minus the obvious wheelchair and wires) and I'm glad that I was a rare incident. It's a good thing the nurses were shocked at how long I'd been in hospital and when they read my notes because it means that it's not common to be hit, run over and dragged down a road and it's not common to receive such a multitude of injuries. I hate that all this happened to me but I'm genuinley glad that it doesn't happen to many people because it's horrific.
DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

Sunday 16th September - Moved to the Burns Unit...

  I had now been in hospital for exactly 4 weeks, most of which I had spent on the military trauma ward. I didn't want to be there but I had subconsciously become VERY attached to the ward namely the nurses. After my back was confirmed failed and infected it became clear that I needed to be moved to the hospitals burns unit for more specialist care. I needed to go but I didn't want to. When I left intensive care I was put in the Military trauma and orthopedics ward because I was a 'Poly-trauma' and had received SO many life threatening injuries - internal, external, structural...I had about 20 injuries.
  Anyway on Sunday the 16th September My mom had gone home and my step brother and his wife were visiting before my boyfriend Joss (rider of the bike) came in the evening. Half way through visiting my nurse for that day came in and told me they had a bed free on the burns unit so I was going down. I acted calm and OK because I didn't want to stress my brother out as they had to leave soon anyway. Inside I was freaking out though, I didn't want to leave my nurses that had become like a cross between medics and friends. I had LIVED in that room for almost 4 weeks, it was where I went when I was taken from the intensive care unit - a vulnerable, battered body that could barely speak.
  My nurse (the male one I mentioned last post) insisted on coming down with me to settle me in instead of just being taken by a porter. He stuck his head in before we went and said 'Im really going to miss you' and I could of cried it was such a strange emotion like I was leaving my family almost. He packed all my stuff up and I was taken to the unit on my bed so that I could keep the same bed. He took my wheelchair, transfer board and even the commode chair so I could have the same things.
  The burns unit is a unit not a ward. My room was still a private room and was in the high dependency area. It had no windows. The Burns unit is in the most appropriate place in the hospital in terms of critical care and theater proximity but this means there is no natural daylight. My room on 412 had a whole wall of glass, I could only see car park or road and I was so high up but it is invaluable. I even slept with my curtains open, you can't know claustrophobia until something like being completely trapped DYING underneath a car happens to you. So my room had NO windows it was literally a concrete box, the unit was a square with the nurses station/desk in the center like an island so even if my door was open I could just see a desk and more room doors. Upstairs I had my laptop so I could watch iplayer or look at facebook but here there was absolutely no signal even my phone could barely text. I was the only patient on the unit in a wheelchair with numerous broken bones as well as burns and wounds so I couldn't go off the unit unless it was visiting and I was able to get into my chair. I'll also point out that the toilet in my room which had the disabled sign on it was the size of a wardrobe so my wheelchair didn't fit and I had to remain buzzing to be put onto he commode and wheeled into the toilet and vise versa. It wasn't a bad place at all and you didn't have to pay for the telly (most wards like my other were about £20 for 3 days and I was in a LONG TIME) as there was no internet signal and the telly's weren't very reliable. That night was very hard, Joss left me his hoodie and as soppy as that sounds I really needed it. I was very lonely, my nurses were lovely but I didn't know them yet and they were reading my notes whereas upstairs had had me from ITU. I couldn't see anything but walls and I was so frightened they wouldn't let my mom in the next morning as she had special allowances on the trauma ward as I was so young and had so many injuries.
DRIVE SAFE, George x

First glimpse of the burn...(fairly graphic description)

     The last post and this one do not have dates in the title as they either span a period of time or I can't remember the exact day.
    The week they were desperatley trying to clear the infection from the failed skin graft on my back was about 3 weeks after the crash. But I still hadn't really seen the extent of any of my external injuries and they were dressed or in places I couldn't see. I couldn't even turn my head enough to see my shoulder when they changed the dressings and obviously not my scalp, so I had NO idea what the situation with my back was really. Infact it hadn't even occured to me that they would all obviously become scars I would have forever.
    As I explained last post, the daily infection routine involved being put in the wet room and my burn undressed and washed. On this particular day my nurse left the room after washing the burn to find some more dressing packs. The water turned off and I felt instantly cold so I reached for the shower 'on' button. The shower was turned on and off by this large silver 'button' type thing. (I happened to find a picture of a bathroom on ward 412 which I was on...below)

     As I put my arm forward I caught a glimpse of my side in the silver. I thought it was someone else and looked behind me, obviously there was no-one there. The burn is from my left side on my waist/hip and follows round my back to my spine, it is rectangular as it was caused by my back becomming stuck and melted to the drivers exhaust. The only way I could describe it was 'zombie bite'. It wasn't just red, it was green, yellow, white, black, bubbled, mangled and oozing. It looked like it had been chewed . The burn was full thickness and so went through every layer which meant it also 'scooped' in like something really had just bitten a massive chunk out of me.
   I felt shocked, horrified, scared, alone, ugly and mostly like none of this was really happening.

Treating the infection...an hour in the bathroom...

  The day my infection treatment started (over 3 weeks after the accident) was pretty eventful...
So incase you havn't read all the posts very briefly, by this point I had had my urinary catheter removed and when I needed the toilet I was transferred to a commode which luckily fitted over the toilet in my bathroom, then I had to use the buzzer again to be brought from the toilet and put back into bed. Anyway on this day (12th september) as most days, my mom left before afternoon visiting and put me into/onto the toilet before Joss arrived. (I got her to do this because I hated buzzing the nurses everytime I needed the loo as I felt they were busy doing more important things) So when I was ready I tried to see if I could reach the flush myself yet, I still couldn't and noticed that the seat was covered in blood which was dripping off the side. It was coming from my back/burn. I pulled the buzzer cord and waited about 5 minutes. Then a male health care assistant came in and looked shocked like he'd walked in on someone by accident. I explained that people had to bring me back to bed and that I was worried as there was blood pouring out of me. He said he would go and get the nurse (could of taken me off the loo first!), so I sat waiting, and waiting...eventually I heard Joss's voice which meant I had been on the loo waiting for 45 minutes. He came in, I told him about the blood and he went into the corridor ''my girlfriends been left in the toilet nearly an hour''. Don't get me wrong the nurses were horrified and it had been a miss-comunication, the sister thought he had brought me back to bed!
   She came straight in got me out and into bed and looked at my back, the bleeding had slowed but she decided now would be a good time to take my staples out. Having staples pulled out feels exactly like having staples pulled out of your skin. I don't know how many there were but they went the entire way round my burn holding the skin (which died) on. So I'd say 30 or more probably. It hurt like fuck, I could feel them being pulled out of the healthy skin they were anchored into.
  After this and the meeting with my new consultant mr VN I needed daily infection treatment. This involved being put onto the commode chair in the morning, wheeled into the bathroom under the shower area. The nurse then had to remove my pjamas and underwear, put a towel over my crotch for 'dignity' *what's dignity again I cant remember anymore? then a carier bag over my wrist cast and angle me so other dressings didn't get wet. They soaked the dressing so it hurt less to pull off, showered water over the burn and washed it with special stuff. That REALLY hurt every day, I always said it was fine because i hate making fuss at nurses but JESUS having someone rub a massivley infected full thickness burn is the second most painful thing I have ever experienced (second to being rolled onto a smashed pelvis and snapped leg). Then they washed my hair and body, dried me and dressed me. People probably think, 'oh god how embarrassing' but having my hair washed under a real shower instead of in bed in an inflatable bowl was incredible. I was in too much pain and too vulnerable to care about these amazing people having to see me naked and wash and dress me and wipe my ass. THEN once dried and partailly dressed came the infection clearing wound dressing, I had to have betadine soaked gauze strapped all over the burn. which always soaked bright orange through my pjamas, bedding, everything!
  I actually didn't mind the dressing part of the day as I always had a joke with wichever nurse I had as they got orange everywhere and competed to see who could strap it better so less leaked out, one of my favourite nurses frank even joked about seeing me naked on our first meeting. He was quite young and little things like that, that genuinley made me laugh made me feel a little more human again.
DRIVE SAFE, George x

Wednesday 5th September - 10th September Ups and DOWNS...

  It may read as though I'm skipping days throught this blog, I'm writing it from a diary my mom kept whilst I was in hospital to keep track of what happened when, for the solicitors.
  These were a stressful few days (everyday was but these more so...). On Wednesday the 5th September DAY 18 in hospital, my Vacum dressing was removed from my back (full thickness burn and graft) again. Once again this happened out of nowhere for me as a team of doctors, students and a consultant came into my room and talked about me to eachother while my nurse came in as fast as possible to try and get down what they were doing, so that I would know and so it would also be in my notes! They made me sit forward for this which was marginally better than being rolled but I had to hang on to my nurse to hold myself up and it killed my back, my pelvis, my legs everything. The removal itself hurt a lot, they peeled it off pretty fast but the thing is completley, air and water tight so it sticks pretty hard. They peered at the burn and muttered to themselves that it didnt look good 'here or here' but was probably 80% taken. That means 80% of the skin stapled onto the burn had survived and was doing well. They re-dressed it with a fabric dressing and special pads. They also pulled the dressings off my head, shoulder and hip and left them open for the nurse to try and figure out what they wanted doing with them! That was the first time I had seen my shoulder and hip injuries and they were pretty nasty. They called it 'road damage' or 'road burns' and basically where I had been dragged 10m under a car the tarmac had ripped through my jeans and 100% leather jacket and basically dragged and rubbed big patches of skin off me. My hip skin was hanging off and so was stitched back on and I have large areas of scar tissue which were once essentially gaping holes. The same happened to my head, my helmet was driven over and ripped up at some point and my scalp was rubbed away to my skull on the right side. Hense the hair removal, LUCKILY my hair has grown back through some of the scar tissue on my scalp and so they can cut out the remainder of scar tissue and pull it together to create a straight line scar. Which if you'd seen my head in A&E should be absolutley amazing!
  On Friday 7th September my wrist was comfirmed broken. One of the first things I recall when I came out of the coma was telling the nurses my wrist hurt (I couldnt feel my lower body so it didnt hurt at that time) they told me it was probably just a sprain because they had done a full body scan...Nope 3 weeks later it was 100% broken and put in plaster! Meaning I only had one un-damaged are (my left arm).
  Monday 10th September was heartbreaking really. It was DAY 23 and I was told I may be able to be transferred to a nearer hospital if I carried on progressing well, I was desperate to go home and really hoping for that. I met Mr VN (Im not sure if Im allowed to use his full name so I wont!) this day, he is a very senior burns and plastics consultant, he's also a wing commander in the army and runs private plastic surgery clinics in london. He had been told about me and wanted to take over as my burns consultant. He looked at my back, didn't order someone else to take off the dressings and actually spoke TO me! Sadly he took one look at my back and was absolutley certain the graft had completley failed and that the wound was becomming extremley infected. He was furious that someone had looked at it and told us it was 80% taken becuase it was 0% taken. They told me I'd have to go straight onto antibiotics, have my back treated everyday and when it was clear repeat the whole skin graft procedure. I was completley devastated I couldnt believe any of this had happened and just wanted to go back and never leave the house that day. I still do.
 

Monday 3rd September...No more Catheter or PCA Plenty of infection...

 This post is quite personal, they all are but I think bodily functions are always more embarrassing to talk about! I'm writing it anyway because this blog is also a way of me keeping a diary because I keep forgetting to actually write in mine (Im using it to write these because we had to keep one for the solicitors from day one). Also I want to capture every detail because these sort of things don't cross peoples minds when they think of crashes, so if you don't want to know about me going to the toilet by all means don't read it haha
  3rd September over two weeks since the crash. I had spent all of this time with a 'urinary catheter' this was put in when I arrived as it was pretty obvious I wasnt going to be able to go to a toilet anytime soon. Also while I was in a coma I was being pumped with fluids so obviously your bladder still needs to empty but you cant go so the tube goes all the way into the urethra (don't worry I wont be attatching any photos! aha) and continually drains into a box/bag. This stayed in for so long because my injuries were so severe i could not even use a bed pan regularly. But after over two weeks it had to come out because of the high infection risk. I was terrified. I thought it takes a few nurses and a lot of pain to get from my bed onto the commode chair and if theyre busy they wont answer my buzzer quickly. Plus I hadn't felt the need or gone for a wee in over two weeks, I think I forgot that you don't suddenly need the loo then wet yourself...So anyway they took it out at midnight (not something you want to be woken up for) I don't know if it hurt going in as I was in a coma but it stung coming out! You have to pee within six hours or you need another put in and I went at 5.55am I like to live on the edge! Anyway it wasn't as bad as I thought, I had a commode (basically a chair with a hole in that you can fit a pot under to be used as a toilet) luckily while I was in hospital the commode chair actually fitted over the toilet in my 'en-suite' so once I was on it the nurse could just push me in and it was basically the same as using the toilet I just had to buzz for them to come and get me out. They also had to pull my bottoms up/down for the first week because I couldn't move to lift or adjust like you normally could. Actually it wasn't even embarrassing I was so weak, so vulnerable and in constant agony I really didn't care. I didn't care when I had to be bed bathed naked and rolled over so someone could wash my back and I didnt care that someone had to wipe my ass at 19. But think about that when you think 'I'll just speed through here I'm going to be late' or think about showing off in your car. I didnt care because I didnt have the ability to care at that point.
  My PCA (patient controlled analgesia-morphine) was also taken away. Funnily enough they don't really like you to be filling yourself with an opiate for more than two weeks! Luckily I was still allowed Oramorph (drinkable morphine) whenever I wanted it because jesus did I need it. Skin stapled to a huge burn on your back, countless broken bones burst liver and road burns really fucking hurt. Plus my donor site on the back of my thigh was really starting to hurt...when my nurse took the dressing off it was pretty clearly infected! With pseudomonas to be presise.
  This meant I had to have betadine soaked gauze and a new dressing put on it and more antibiotics! Betadine either is iodine or has iodine in it (I cant remember!) but that means its bright orange and soaks through everything!
DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

Thursday 30th August Sitting in a WHEELCHAIR... meeting Gareth Gates...

   29th August was an exciting day! (not because I met Gareth) Two days after I had been sat up for the first time (and then remained flat for another 2 days) my physio's turned up with a wheelchair! Another thing I never thought would be exciting, but god I was happy! I had to use two physio's, a nurse, a banana board, a slide sheet and another nurse on stand by to get into the wheelchair but I did it! I had (and still do have) a special support cushion for my pelvis and my left leg had to be elevated because bending it even slightly was SO SO painful. Another thing people probably don't think about was all the attatchments I had! I had a catheter (pipe directly into your bladder continually draining) so they had to get me into the chair without catching it and then hang it on the side. I still had my first VAC box dressing attatched to my graft, so they had to unplug the box and switch it to run on battery, that then went in a bag on the back of the chair. I also had several canulars (needles into the vein for easy access with fluids, pain relief and antibiotics) one of which was attatched to my PCA of morphine (patient controlled analgesia) so that had to sit on my lap.
  So all in all I was looking pretty trendy with my bag of wee on the side and huge box of back fluid behind me. Did I mention the VAC makes noises as it sucks?!
   Anyway the physio's took me into the hall (first time I had left my room other than on my bed to theatre) and I had a feeble go at wheeling myself. Its hard to get used to (and i still had an undiagnosed broken wrist so it hurt). Then this receptionist, clerk person comes up and takes my handles and pushes me down the hall to meet Gareth Gates. What the hell? Now this blog may become world famous (very unlikely haha) so I will watch what i say, but lets just say I was a lot more interested in learning to move in a wheelchair! The military ward get a lot of famous visitors (something else I wont go on about but I dont think its fair on the other wards..)
DRIVE SAFE george xxx

Tuesday 28th August, SITTING UP!...

  On Tuesday the 28th August - 9 days after the crash, 5 days after skin graft 1- It had been a rough weekend. I had my skin graft on the friday and then it was bank holiday weekend, now what most people (including myself back then) don't realise is doctors and consultants don't really work bank holidays. Technically they do but where there will be the exact same number of nurses on duty day and night everyday of the year, there are a lot less of them. There are still plenty on call and around for emergencies but not as many. I was still in a lot of agonising pain, it still felt like there were bricks on top of me and I had been lay in the same position able to just turn my head for 9 days. I was constantly boiling and then freezing and I was put on IV (through the vein) antibiotics.
  Despite all of this my physiotherapists decided to try and sit me up that day, to make me smile if nothing else. Its hard to explain my progress because things like this 'sitting up' it's not the same as you would just sit up. Infact sitting is something I got very stressed about and no-one could understand, weeks after this day I still had to be pulled up the bed with my sheet and two nurses whenever I had slid down too far. But even after that with the back of the bed sat up I still was adament I wasnt SITTING but they didn't get it. Now I know that its because I was sort of sat on my tail bone (which was incidently snapped) not on my actual bum! Anyway back to being sat up! I had three physio's and a sheet for this. The sheet was put under my bum with the help of some agonising rolling, then the back of my bed was sat up to an upright position to bring my back up. Two of the physios took my back and arms and pulled me forward, then using the sheet aswell I was slid round so my feet could be carefully rested over the side of the bed. That doesn't sound like much and I couldnt do it alone for weeks but I cried. It was so overwhelming, not even the actual sitting up, I think 1. I felt 1% more human because I wasnt flat on my back and 2. It kind of sunk in that it had really happened. Even today 7 months on it hasn't fully sunk in at all but that point I think I finally realised I wasn't going to wake up...
BE SAFE, George xxx

Skin Graft Number One...

  Thursday 23rd August (My first full day on the military trauma ward) it is safe to say I didn't really know what my injuries were. I think I was told in brief detail but it didn't go in and they tend to just say things like 'you're very poorly' when you've been through something so severe and clearly wont be able to understand yet. Also at this point I knew we had been in a motorbike accident that a driver had hit us at the island but no idea that I had been driven over and dragged 10 metres and had no memory at all.
  That afternoon my mum went home to sleep and Joss (my boyfriend and the bike rider) and Rhianna (his sister and my friend) were with me when a woman came into my room. I remember this clearly - she did not introduce herself and she was with a few students, she said some crap and then said ''So we're getting you in for your skin graft tomorrow''. The minute she said that sentence I went into massive panic. I couldn't breathe I started asking what she was talking about that I had no idea I was having any operations and she said ''yes you need a skin graft on your back from where you were stuck to the cars exhaust pipe'' This is where consultants and doctors fail. I had NO idea I had been under the car at this point, NO idea I even had a burn let alone how severe, NO idea I was having any operations. Then she tried to claim it had been decided on friday (IMPOSSIBLE my accident happened on sunday 2 days AFTER friday). After waking up in ITU I was terrified of even falling asleep the thought of being put under was more horrifying for me than I can even explain.
  During this panic attack she just left and luckily my wonderful nurse Laura came in, I was in an awful state crying and screaming yet trapped in my body unable to move. She assured me that I had to give consent and so I could refuse but I really needed the operation, that waking up wouldnt be like in ITU (ive never had an op or even been in hospital before this).
   I didn't agree/sign to the operation until I was in the anaesthetic room, I pressed my morphine PCA the whole way down hoping i would fall asleep before they could put me under. The assistant in there was wonderful she held my hand and stroked my head like i was a vulnerable child. I didn't feel myself falling asleep next thing I new I was opening my eyes in recovery. I remember I couldnt move (combination of my injuries anyway and the general anaesthetic wearing off) but I managed to say 'thank you for looking after me' to the recovery nurse I felt so thankful and vulnerable.
  I had a Split Thickness Skin Graft because they can cover a larger area. The skin was taken from the back of my right thigh using what is essentially a peeler (which as a wound itself is so painful) and literally stapled over my burn (with a little more complexity!). I had a NPWT or Vacuum dressing placed over it, applying a vacuum through a special sealed dressing attatched to a tube and a container box. The continued vacuum draws out fluid (gross!) from the wound and increases blood flow to the area. I also had my shoulder, hip, chest and head wounds washed and dressed and my hair properly shaved to keep my head injury more safe.
 I'm going to attatch some photos of skin graft 'implements' and the NPWT dressings THEY ARE NOT ME THEY ARE EXAMPLES FROM GOOGLE hopefully they wont upset anyone!
DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

                Example of a vacuum dressing - this person has a knee injury mine was obviously on my back.

                                  Example of the box and tube attatched to you and the dressing.

                                   How the donor skin is taken for applictation to the burn/wound.

Thursday 23rd August and onwards MIlitary Ward...

 I suppose this entry is more of a sum up of the trauma ward before I go into anymore medical stuff.

The military ward was more bearable than intensive care, although that is not to take away from the incredible loving and life saving care I recieved in ITU.
 I was on level 4 - in bed 12 - on ward  412, I found that pretty cool (my stepdad found it too confusing...). I had my own room as I was the only girl and very high infection risk, this meant I had my own 'ensuite' although I didn't really get much use out of it! My mom was allowed to stay over for the first two nights on this ward and was given special permission to visit any time in the day for the whole of my stay. This was because I was so young, I was 19 at the time but that is the youngest age you can be in that hospital and as you can imagine I was very vulnerable physically and mentally and needed a lot of support.
  The staff on this ward were brilliant, most of them were fairly young and seemed to take a liking to me, this was probably because the ward consisted of crazy old men and soldiers and so I probably seemed very sweet! I was also surprised that a lot of the staff were quite horrified at what had happened to me as I thought they probably saw it a lot. The staff were a mix of military nurses and HCA's and civillian ones. This ward is where I found my favourite nurse, Laura (never thought I'd have one of those!). She was bloody brilliant, I first had her (you have a designated nurse each day) on Thursday 23rd August my first full day on 412. At this point I was still very confused, couldn't move an inch and didn't even want to eat. Part of the routine is a daily wash after breakfast, be that a shower by yourself or a bed bath you have to do it. I had become absolutley petrofied of anything that would mean I had to be rolled (I didn't even want to eat because if I needed the toilet I would have to be rolled onto a bed pan as I only had a cathater for urine, too much information I know!) But Laura came in with Lyndsey (lovely military HCA) and calmly explained they had to do it, it was agony but they chatted to me whilst washing me to try and keep me calm. Still amazes me how they change a bed with you on it! I had lots of lovely nurses for the 4 weeks I was on 412, I was rarely on my own but at night time they would pop in and stop to talk when they were doing my drugs or dressings or canulars. My time on this ward was when I was at my weakest and most vulnerable but past the very real possibility of dying.
I know it's their job but they did everything for me, bed baths, dressing changes, cathater control, canulars, IV's, drugs, bed pan, washing my hair in bed even when I couldnt lift my head, holding my hand, clearing up my awful skin graft infection, eventually pushing me to the toilet and washing me in the shower, dressing me when I could finally wear knickers!, feeding me, making me laugh Laura even shaved my legs before I decided it really didnt matter if I had hairy legs I was barely alive!

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