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
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