19th August 2013 - One year 'Anniversary'...

This post might end up being quite short compared to some of my (OK all of my) other posts. But I thought it was about time I posted since we have now passed the elusive 'one year anniversary'..

Firstly I feel odd using the word 'Anniversary', that implies a happy occasion I think like wedding anniversaries and '6 month' and '1 year' anniversaries that happy new couples count. But I don't know what other word to use so it will have to stick! Any suggestions greatly received!
But anyway Monday 19th August 2013 marked one year since the horrific events of Sunday 19th August 2012. The build up was awful I'm not ashamed to say I have been dreading this date pretty much since the crash happened. It's hard to explain, it's not that I'm superstitious and thought the same thing or another traumatic event would happen on it (although I can be superstitious..) it just stirred up so many emotions and fears.

I hated the idea of having to say 'August 2012' instead of 'Last August' when people ask about the crash. I thought somehow people would stop caring when it was over a year ago. I was scared I would spend the next six weeks reliving every event from the scene and hospital. I hate it when people say 'when this is over' because to me that implies that one day I'll wake up with no scars no mobility issues or impending arthritis no flash backs and no memory of this. You get the picture, in general I was terrified of this date the mere thought of it made me feel sick! But in all honesty it wasn't as bad as I thought. I cried and felt sick but I went to physio and then spent the day with Joss just relaxing together trying to keep busy. Nobody stopped caring and expected me to miraculously heal overnight because 'it had been a year' so all in all it was OK. I did have a few more flash backs and for a few days I couldn't stop thinking about what I was doing in hospital on each date - that was overshadowed when I had another operation but I'll talk about that in another post - my neighbours even sent flowers which really touched me that they remembered the date and acknowledged that I would be feeling low it was absolutely lovely!

 DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

JAN '13 - New years eve, STANDING UP!!!!, Loose women and a Wig...

  So I thought I would write about New Years Eve in January not December (living life on the edge!).  New Year was always going to be difficult, as a 20 year old woman generally you want to dress up, dance and essentially get very very drunk. I couldn't do that this year. Very kindly Joss's family offered to have a party at there house so that I could celebrate with my friends at least and it was good and hopefully everyone had a great time. It's just that nothing is simple anymore, in order to go to their house and stay over night I had to bring my ramps to get through the front door and the commode chair to put over their downstairs toilet (thank God they have a downstairs toilet!), which involved taking the ramps from the front door and using them from the step in the kitchen into the utility area. Once in there Joss had to move the ramps to wheel me out of the sink room and down the 'corridor' to the toilet room and help me onto the commode chair and then wheel that over the toilet and vise versa to get back to the kitchen. This meant no-one else could use the downstairs toilet and every time I went everyone had to move out of the kitchen drawing loads of attention to it. I also tried to dress a bit nicer which resulted in me breaking down. I lost a LOT of weight in hospital but after coming out I started to gain it back, however I can't do any exercise at all so I could eat half of what I ate before the crash and still gain weight. I've also lost a massive amount of muscle in my legs meaning they aren't the same shape at all as before. And let's not even delve too deep into the fact I only have half my hair left. Let's just say I felt absolutely hideous and I have never had this little confidence in my whole life. I got to spend the night with Joss though for the first time in nearly 5 months as they had set up the front room with a bed which was worth it.

   On the 3rd January I had another trauma/orthopedic/bone review. I had the usual long wait and xrays and then another long wait before seeing a doctor for a talk through the xrays. You could still see all the black lines in my pelvis where the breaks are/were but it was FINALLY knitting back together. My left thigh is held together with a big metal plate and screws (A 9 hour operation I had while still in a coma). They had to remove a large section of bone so there is a big gap between the two ends of bone but after 5 months it was showing signs of growth. And so almost 5 months on I was told I was allowed to start weight-bearing in physiotherapy. I think I was in shock really, at first I was told 12 weeks no weight-bearing and I'd been to 3 reviews hoping for good news and leaving with nothing since coming out of hospital. And yet I wasn't even that happy...I don't know why I think it was just fear really. I didn't know what this meant would I be able to just get up and walk?
Luckily the same day I had psychotherapy and physiotherapy appointments as well. (Another full day spent at the QE) In psychotherapy I was told I probably have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I'll talk more about that in another post I think.
And in Physiotherapy I STOOD UP. I was scared. I was excited. I was sad. It was unbelievably hard and it hurt. But I did it, put my feet on the floor and was upright for the first time since I stood next to Joss's bike and climbed on behind him for the short trip home that ended in complete horror. My mom cried, Joss cried and had to leave the room, but here it is ....   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDmhIcdtjow   



On the 9th January I went to watch Loose Women Live... Yes I know very random! In December I checked my email for things from the solicitors and other less fun things and found one telling me I had two tickets to be in the audience of Loose Women. I had completely forgotten applying for tickets I think I did it while in hospital! So on the 9th January me and my mom got up very early for the long journey to London! Now as usual this was so hassle free trip it involved driving to Birmingham, waiting in an office for someone to escort us to the train to put out ramps, once in London we had to wait for the person to remember I was stuck on the train and come with the ramps to get us off. We couldn't get the tube because our stops didn't have wheelchair access, so we wandered around trying to find the right bus, regularly finding ourselves staring at steps and having to go a long way round! Eventually we made it to the studios and were allowed to skip the waiting outside thanks to the wheelchair (Its got to have some perks!). All of the seats were up steps so I had to 'park' by the camera men and women which was pretty cool. It was good it's weird seeing famous people or people 'from the telly' in real life. Sadly we didn't have any time to look around London as we had to make the long journey back but it was most certainly a good day out!

Disabled ramps for the train

     I think I've mentioned enough times in this blog that I had to have half of my long hair shaved off in this accident. Firstly the plait had to be cut off as it was trapped in the car, and then most of the rest of the right side of my scalp was shaved off due to my head injury. I've spent the last months wearing hats, head scarves and stuff to cover the area or disguise the fact that I have the most ridiculous hair I have ever seen now. Yes I could cut it all off but why should I? None of this was my fault, I've spent a long time growing my hair and really really struggle with the fact half of it has been taken away as well as so many other things because of HER actions. So my occupational therapy team asked her insurance to pay for me to have a wig. I might not wear it much and no I'm not completely bald but it gives me the option on days where I really can't cope with it to pretend I still at least have normal hair. What do you think?...

DRIVE SAFE, George xxx

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.

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?