What happened?
I crashed a scooter whilst intoxicated, in Thailand in 2002 and taken to hospital with a smashed ulnar and a cut to the head. I was 19 years old and acting irrationally apparently, so they suspected I may have a head injury, and kept me in under observation.
In the UK a mandatory CAT scan would have been carried out. However in a third world hospital, with no insurance at hand, and naive to the procedure of what to do, if I had an accident, my head was stitched up, and the internal bleeding increased. After a week, the staff let me out, handed me 20 Valium, asked me to calm down and stop acting so angry and to rest.
That night back in the hostel, my partner of a whole 2 weeks had had enough of my volatile behavior, and told me if I drunk and took the Valium he wasn’t sticking around. Of course I didn’t care or listen – 19 years old, young, senseless, knew it all attitude. That night I fell unconscious and into cardiac arrest. The hospital then realized it was a head injury, and cut a third of my skull out, and threw it in the bin.
In the UK it’s preserved for future replacement. I was unable to breathe on my own and consequently on a ventilator for 2 weeks without anesthetic. In the UK, patients are put under local anaesthetic while on a ventilator, to lessen the trauma.
The day my mum arrived at the Thai hospital she described the scene as absolute horror, at the site of seeing me tied to the bed. There were cats roaming freely, and the stale stench of soiled underwear, having not been checked for a week, nauseated the nostrils.
I was tied to the bed due to hitting staff, and manually pulling my trachea out of my throat, which was keeping me breathing. Obviously quite annoying having a tube stuck down my throat, and aware of it, because I was awake and hadn’t been anaesthetised. When i was untied, I waved at the old man who was next to me, in a coma. I often dreamt about this man, and the room we shared, that I remember very little about.
I was then transferred to a private, plush hospital in Bangkok, we drove the journey in an ambulance. On the way my ventilator broke, and there wasn’t a spare, I went into cardiac arrest again, resuscitated and air bagged the rest of the way. A male size trachea tube, too big for my throat, was forced down in order to airbag me.
This was carried out without anaesthetic, and resulted in my “DUH” sounding voice, hence nerve damage to my voice box.
I have no full recollection of any of the events, 2 weeks before and 2 weeks after my accident. These memories are, a patchwork pattern of peculiar perceptions to me, relived through my dreams of despair, in which memories are manipulated.
I couldn’t speak a sound for 3 months, didn’t get a round head for another year, and had a shaved head repeatedly during this period. I underwent speech therapy one to one sessions, for a further 10 years.
I’m sharing this deeply personal experience with the world, because I think it’s important to lay the facts out, of what actually happened to me, before going onto speak about the recovery progress. I’m aware of the idle gossip that has circulated about my accident, but pay very little attention to gossip. The injuries did encase my essence, and succumb my soul. It took me a long time to go through the grieving process.
I came out of the darkness a survivor, not a victim.
I’ve dealt with my demons, and can now sit still with my shadow. I have had the honour of working with such educated, open minded therapists, who continually challenged me, and helped shape the person I am today. I’m happy looking in the mirror today, because,
I have learned, self acceptance.
“Happiness can exist only in Acceptance” George Orwell
How my awareness started.
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory” Dr Seuss
My first clear awareness memory after my accident was in Bangkok hospital and my ex was holding my hand and telling me how sorry he was. I could hear him talking endlessly about his promises to do better and bla bla bla. He then lent over to kiss me, and I immediately pulled back and tried to talk.
It was then I realised I couldn’t speak.
But I remember thinking it was ok, because my internal dialogue was still me, the Danielle I knew. I signaled for a pen and paper and wrote down “kissing cousins” and kept pointing at me, and him, and back to the words I had written. He looked at me in total disgust, and in complete confusion and slowly, patronisingly said, “Dann……. We’re not cousins….. I’m (lets call him) Rupert. I’m not your cousin.” I then wrote,”call my brother he’ll tell you”. I laugh hysterically now about this, but at the time, it was a total sense of chaotic confusion at not being able to recognise and realise, who my ex was. Everybody was confirming Rupert’s story, but i was utterly convinced otherwise.
This is very common for people who have had a head injury to be confused and have PTSD (post dramatic stress disorder) which I’ll be discussing in more depth in future blogs.
My mum was concerned about what my capabilities could be, and she asked me to get up and try walking. I was able to. She asked me to go with her to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror.
“Now Dann i want you to look at what you’ve done to yourself……look at yourself!” As i walked my eyes up and down my body………. noticing the drip in my nose, the massive dent in my head, the lack of hair, my bloodstained scalp, and a ridiculous amount of stitches running round my head. I remember feeling nothing but joy, at the sight of my thighs. “What do you think Dann?”
She asked in such a tone that she expected me to be quite shocked and upset, at what was reflecting in the mirror.
I wrote down “well at least my thighs are thinner”.
She laughed and said “I see you’ve not lost your sense of humour”
But she also laughed because she realised I was still in there, however the external coverage was looking, at that time.
It is this sarcastic humored attitude of mine that has got me into many a trouble in my life, but it is also the same mental attitude that has kept me determined. With a gritted positive attitude, that one day, things will be different, and it wont always feel like such a struggle.
“Its not the size of the dog in the fight, its the size of the fight in the dog” Pinterest
Believe in you
“Belief Condition- So i can believe what i don’t know, but I cant know what I don’t believe” G.Cox
My mum wanted me to get out for some fresh air. We were going to the hospital rooftop garden. We slowly toddled along to the lift. After about 15 meters I realised how exhausted I felt. I’d lost a lot weight. From 8.5 stone to 7 stone…..
hence why my thighs were thinner.
I sat in the wheelchair my mum was pushing, my muscles malnourished and in need of rest. We got out onto the garden and I just remember the brightness of the sun, and the throbbing headache that ignited my neurons, my head felt like a hammer was hitting it. Couldn’t appreciate the beauty around me, the heat of the air sucked any energy from me, and after ten minutes I just wanted to go back to sleep.
I spent a lot of time sleeping after my accident, this is the norm after a brain injury and is the best medicine for recovery.
I can still recall the severe fatigue I felt, everything was such an effort, even listening was a challenge, because I could sense the nervousness and concerns the people caring for me had, for my future recovery. I knew I’d be ok, because I was aware of my internal dialogue still being present, all the wee characters in my mind were still gabbing away as always. But that expression we convey through speech, I couldn’t communicate. These emotions exploded like a toddler tantrum, in my own wee pity party of frustration, for many years to come. My brain had hit its limit and all I needed was sleep. I slept an average of 20 hours most days, for the first two years after my accident. I was on anti fitting drugs, which knocked any lust for life from me.
I’ll always appreciate my enthusiasm for life now, because I’ll never forget how tired I felt back then. How vitally important, my health is my wealth in happiness, and how invincible, I am not.
I arrived back in Glasgow after sleeping the entire first class flight, on the 9th September 2002, the day of my brothers 18th birthday. He told me years later, it was the best 18th birthday present. The thought created a lump in my throat full of guilt, for many more years after.
Friends, family, circled around my bed, eyes full of horror and sadness at the damaged Danielle on display. I could hear everyone talking about me, to each other, with so many questions unknown.
“Will she ever be able to talk again?”
“Whats going to happen to her head?”
“How long shes going to be in hospital?”
“Look how thin she is!”
It was such an overwhelming time for everyone, but I remember just feeling furious with frustration. My internal voices were screaming “guys stop stressing! I’m gonna be ok, just let me sleep”.
I knew back then I’d be fine, it’ll just take time…..
I just didn’t realise how long it would take.
I do believe having to watch a loved one go through such a trauma is more difficult, than the person it has directly affected. I still had my mind even though my speech was still silent, I knew i could put a circle shape in the circle hole and count to whatever, but others didn’t and I couldn’t appreciate their seriousness for concern, because my mind was, I realise many reflected years later, in denial.
The problem was, (and still can be) the perception I presented to others, was in conflict to what my state of mind was. Writing was a task, and my need for so much sleep, and inability to make a sound let alone voice a word, was all due to the sheer shock, (also known as P.T.S.D) my body went through.
“The absurdity of life, lies in the nature of consciousness because however seriously we take life, we always know there is some perspective from which this seriousness can be questioned”. T.Nagel
Reflecting
Look back as a means to move forward.
I can wholeheartedly say that every year of struggle in life can be perceived as worthwhile. Every year was a different type of teaching. The challenges I had and have, continually change dimension, like life lessons do, and mental battles, rapidly switched sides, before deceasing.
But it is because of this process, of in depth recovery, that I have lost the toddler tantrum attitude, the need to be angry, or even waste my energy on this emotion.
Passionate of course, anger, is of no need.
“Sorrows are our best educator. A man can see further through a tear than a telescope” Bruce Lee