OCT 2012 missing hospital - what the hell?! + How I shower etc with no downstairs bathroom...

  So I spent an agonizing 6 weeks in hospital desperate to get home only to get home and wish I was back there...
You're all probably thinking 'what the hell?' 'Is she crazy?' 'why would anyone want to be in hospital?!'. And it is extremely hard to explain but this blog is for me to keep an honest accurate account of this accident and my recovery and this is how I felt.
   Don't get me wrong before this I never sat at home thinking 'I really wish I could be in a horrible accident' and while I was in hospital I did not enjoy it. But I didn't really 'get' what being home would be like...I didn't come home to my bedroom I had to move into our front room. To get into the house I have to use ramps so I'm a prisoner in my own home unable to enter or leave alone. I cannot go upstairs at all. We have no downstairs bathroom, this means as a 19 year old female I have to have a commode chair in my fake bedroom which my mother has to empty. The ONLY reason I'm talking about every aspect of this horrific crash and it's results (even the most embarrassing and soul destroying) is because I think it's important for people to see how this driver's dangerous choices have ****** up my life. To shower I have to be taken to my parents friends house as they have a disabled access downstairs shower. This means I can only shower twice a week and involves packing two cars with me, my ramps, my wheelchair, my transfer board, commode chair (doubles as shower chair) and clothes, wash stuff and towels.   I have to be wheeled in up my ramps through their living room, mom puts the chair in the shower base puts my wheelchair next to it, I transfer with the board, she puts the towels ect. out and leaves. I shower as best I can and then text her to come and do my back dressing and reverse the procedure to go home. YES it's good that they can even offer me showers at their house but it's degrading and exhausting.

                                          Ramps to get in and out of my front door (can't use backdoor)

Anyway back to missing hospital. In the middle of October I had my first of many 'trauma reviews', these involved me going to the QE to have xrays and a meeting with my trauma/orthopedic/bones consultant. From  day 1 I have been completely strictly NO weight bearing this means I cannot put ANY weight through EITHER of my legs and must use a wheelchair and transfer boards. I was not even allowed to be rolled onto my right side because I had a big fracture in my hip socket. At this review I spent hours waiting for xray and then a meeting with one of 'Mrs bones consultants' registrars (doctors). Just to receive BAD news...still NO weight bearing at all. I have about 7 breaks in my pelvis and hip socket, and my left thigh was so badly snapped they had to remove a section before plating it and it had not began to grown back and the pelvic fractures had not begun to heal.

It was the last straw really. I felt SO depressed - why had this happened? why me? why didn't the grafts work? why did I have to use a fake toilet when the person who did this to me was fine? I missed hospital, at least in hospital I could use a toilet now I could transfer. I really bonded with some nurses which is a weird thing because you spend so much time with them and then just leave. And you know what people care more when you're in hospital, I had been inundated with cards and flowers (which sadly died before I got home!) and now I needed visitors more than ever now I was living in my own version of hell no-one really came round.

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

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

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