A few more positive things from my time in hospital...

  So I looked through all my posts detailing my time in hospital and while trying to get all the horrible details in I missed the 'good' times where little things lifted my spirits so here's a little list!

• Joss (my boyfriend and the rider of the bike) visited me EVERY single day without fail. He walked to the train station in our town caught the 25/30 minute train to Birmingham and walked to hospital everyday and then back again. 
• My mom was allowed to come in at 10am every morning due to my age and the nature of it all so she did. Got up early every day drove 40 minutes to hospital and sat with me until 2 when Joss usually came, drove 40 minutes back home and a lot of days the came back for evening visiting! She helped me with going to the toilet and even sat there while I slept.
• As soon as I was able to get into a wheelchair Joss was thrilled and took me off my ward any day I was feeling up to it. Pushing me round, bag of wee on one side of the chair, box sucking gunk out of my back on the back of the chair all with his arm in a sling! Which meant I could go outside and get some air for a while.
• Joss's parent's, My step-dad, younger brother, and older brother and his wife as well as  friends - Pete, Sian, Rhianna, Beckie, Ryan, Charlotte and Naomi also came to visit me once, twice or a few times. (Hope I havn't missed anyone out!)
• The food was absolutley RANK and I lost so much weight from the trauma and trying to fight infections my mom used to sneak my dinners back out onto the trolley and bring me toast in the mornings and mcdonalds on good evenings. She even went to the shop and brough baguette, cheese, butter and a bottle of salad cream when I was craving a real sandwich!
• Joss brought me pizza wrapped in tin foil and even surprised me with a subway one of the days!
• I also discovered Branston pickle with sticks of cheese in the hospital WHsmith which is one good thing to come from this!

All of these things made an otherwise horrific, scary and painful hospital stay more bearable!

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

Tuesday 18th/Wednesday 19th September - Skin graft 2...

    On Tuesday 18th my 3rd day on the burns unit, I was woken up at 5am to have my water taken off me and be told I was going to theater that day for my second skin graft. When you're having surgery you get a 'Nil by mouth' sign on your door, literally meaning 'the patient cannot drink or eat anything'. So I was given my tablets with the tiniest sip of water after my obs and told I was second on the list for my operation. I was terrified of going 'under', less so than the first graft as I explained in the earlier post but after pulling myself out of a coma the thought of being put to sleep frightens me to death. My mom arrived at 10am (on the dot every day!) but at about 2pm my burns consultant (Mr VN) came into my room in his scrubs. His first operation had taken longer than he thought and he couldn't perform my graft today. I was gasping for a drink and gutted. I was so desperate to go home that when he said I could either wait for him to do it Friday or have his colleague do it tomorrow I opted or his colleague. I regret that slightly now.
   Wednesday 19th exactly a month to the day of the accident I had my second graft. I was taken down before my mom arrived and I was very anxious. I was less vulnerable than the first time, as in I could sit myself up and before I didn't even know where I was but I was very scared. I was scared about where they were going to take the donor skin from because that creates a scar in itself, I was scared about waking up, I was scared and so sad that I was even having to do this. My favorite health care assistant came down with me and I woke up a few hours later in the recovery room. After the first one I was so vulnerable and weak I used the bit of energy I had to thank the nurse for looking after me while I woke up but this time I felt more ok. I tried to feel a bandage and dressing to find where the skin had come from but I couldn't move my arms. When I got taken back to my room my mom came and sat with me.
I hate that the first operation I had they didn't wake me up, I remained in the coma and was wheeled back to my space in ITU still on life support.It frightens me and makes me feel weak, is any of this really happening?

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