It’s been a long time coming, but here it is!!!
** If you just want to see the before/after photos, skip to the end for the links to the slideshow **
Yikes. It's hard to know where to start with this. I guess I just wanted to tell the story of what happened in the accident. I know I scared A LOT of people, near and far, and nobody knew if they should ask what happened, or how it happened, or what the extent of my injuries were. And at the time, those that did know what was going on weren't sure how much they should say. I understand that, but I really wasn't/am not that sensitive about it.
All I can tell you is that I don't remember what happened to cause the accident, and nobody saw what happened, so all we can do is speculate.
So to start off, here's what was my beautiful bike. I loved this machine, it was a thrill to ride the first day, and more every day after that!
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This picture was taken on the day of my first ride.
Stewy and I rode all over the countryside. I was still learning the bike, but I was so comfortable on it. It was so smooth and easy to maneuver compared to the lumpy cruiser I had before.
FINALLY!!! A real bike! Oh boy, even little things like over taking, woah!!!!!
I took to it like a duck takes to water.
We had SUCH a ball that day :-)
I had this picture on my wall in rehab. I looked at it often and I wished I was her. Wished I had her life again.
I think the only pictures of me and my bike were taken on the day of my first ride. I don't know why I didn't get around to taking more, but I really wish I had!
Take lots of pictures - of your bikes, yourselves, or anything or anyone you love, ok people?!!!
I think this is the only picture in existence of me actually on the bike. A pity it's a bit grainy and it's a pity I was all the way through the corner before the camera took the photo. The 'delay factor' is the worst part about digital cameras.
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On the roadside - I think we were swapping camera duties or something.
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Stewy with my bike. Seems a nice VFR can make anyone look good!! Hehehe... http://www.vfrdiscus...tyle_emoticons/default/wink.gif
I love this picture.
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So that was the bike before the accident.
Not much was said on the forums about what actually happened with the accident, just that it HAD happened. I guess it's hard for people to know what to say, what is the etiquette around this type of thing, and of course nobody really knows what happened.
So here’s what we do know:
It was the 4th of November 2006. A Saturday.
For such a long time I had been looking forward to this road trip. Three solid days of riding with a great bunch of people. It was going to be such fun!
We left Melbourne in the morning, made a few stops to link up with other riders and to get fuel before continuing on to ride through the Black Spur, one of the most popular roads for motorcyclists in the state. It's a great piece of road through thick forest, with nicely cambered corners and some great hairpins. The road surface is beautiful and smooth.
I was riding at about the middle-back of the group, I guess. I was behind five or six of the more experienced riders, who disappeared out of sight after about 2 corners, and I'd say there were three or four riders behind me as well. It was an unfamiliar road, so I wasn't hooning (at least by my standards!). Sure, my lines weren't perfect, but there was nothing hair-raising.
Apparently I'd ridden halfway through the spur, but the last thing I remember is riding along a section that straightened out a little between corners, heading towards a left hand bend.
I remember increasing speed along the straight, and slowing again and dropping gears for the corner.
I was still on the straight, and was about to reach the bend when my memory stops, but I was upright, happy and moving along.
Then I woke up dazed and confused in hospital, and very annoyed about the uncomfortable tubes down my throat!!
The rest is speculation.
One minute I was riding, and having a ball, then I wake up in hospital in a daze, being told that I had this crazy accident, damaged my spine and that I would never walk again.
It was quite surreal, and it still is when I think about it. Like as if you've really settled into a good movie, and you become totally enthralled, but then right in the middle of the best bit, the tape switches to something completely different. It just doesn't match up, and the new story really isn't very nice at all. You desperately want to get back to the other story that you were enjoying so much, to see where it goes. You come to the realization that you will never know the ending to that story, you just have to try and get to like the new one.
There was no 'uh-oh' moment, no 'oh shit' or 'this is gonna hurt' moments. I don't remember any kind of panic, or grabbing the brakes, nothing like that. That's not to say that those moments didn't happen either, it may just be that I don't recall them.
Stewy was the next rider behind me, and as he entered the corner he saw my bike sliding and spinning back down the road towards him, and he saw me sliding towards the left side of the road, and the car pulled over on the opposite side of the road. Unfortunately he didn't see what caused the accident. He just saw the aftermath.
I had been experimenting with using lower gears in corners a little bit, I think I was in third gear along the straight, so perhaps in preparation for the corner I accidently knocked it down to first instead of second, causing a compression lock-up??
I wonder if perhaps I'd gained too much speed on the straight section, and then jumped on the brakes too hard and locked up the front??
Perhaps the car was on the wrong side of the road or even just part of the way over, and caused me to panic and grab the brakes??
Perhaps there was oil on the road, or gravel, or some other kind of debris??
Perhaps there was a mechanical failure, like the chain broke, or the engine ceased??
*sings* Perhaps, perhaps, perrrrrhaps!
Perhaps I just stuffed up.
As much as I'd love to be able to blame someone or something else, in all honesty, I think it was most likely the compression lock up thing... What a silly mistake.
PERHAPS it's not good to ponder on it all too much, I will never know anyway.
The driver of the car said that as he came around the bend he saw the bike and I were already on the ground sliding, and he tried to swerve and miss me. I have no reason to doubt that, it makes sense. If I was still up on the bike when he hit me, then I would have done a 'superman' and gone flying over the bonnet... ah, what do you call it? The hood!, ending up on the other side of the road.
So it seems like it was just bad luck that I low sided, and a car just happened to be right there, in the right place at the right time.
Or rather, I lost control and low-sided in the wrong place, at the wrong time...
Apparently the driver was trained in first aid, and he took control and managed the scene.
They tell me I was quite twisted, my legs were as if I was lying face down, but torso turned so I was on my side, with my left arm under me and kind of twisted behind.
Yikes! is that hard to picture?!! :blink:
I had to get someone to lay on the floor and demonstrate before I really understood!
They tell me I was conscious and talking the whole time, although I don't remember anything until about two days later. Funny how you block these things out.
Apparently I could still move my feet while I was lying there on the ground. Oh yeah, I only had one boot on as well.
I guess I knew I was in a bad way, and must have been able to tell that I was twisted up. I was asking to be put onto my back, but of course that was out of the question. All I kept saying was that I wanted to be on my back, and while people were trying to keep me quiet and calm, I was yelling at them all, sounding grumpy, and demanding to be put on my back.
I have a very very vague memory of Adam talking to me, because he kept calling me sweety. He was pleading with me to keep still. But he says I was growling at him, saying "help me get onto my back!"... "I want to be on my BACK!"... "ADAM!! MAKE THEM PUT ME ON MY BACK!"
I don't recall any of that.
Poor Adam. Poor everyone. This must have been incredibly upsetting.
It was obvious that it was pretty serious, and I guess they must have felt pretty helpless, there wasn't anything they could do. We were in a fairly remote place, so it took about 20 minutes for an ambulance to arrive. 20 minutes of hearing me begging to be turned onto my back, but what could they do? They had to keep trying to explain why they wouldn't help me.
Oh boy, I don't even remember what it was like for me, so I can only imagine what it must have been like for everyone else, just horrible!
When the ambulance got there, they proceeded to cut my draggin jeans, and leather jacket off *cries*.
It doesn't bother me so much that I was lying undignified and almost starkers on the side of the road, so much as it bothers me that they chopped wildly into my jacket! - And that's taking into consideration that I had on the kind of knickers that you don't want to be wearing the day you get hit by a bus!)
I'm so glad I don't remember that bit!!! Although if I knew what was going on, I would have asked them to cut the jacket more neatly!
There will be more on what became of the Joe Rocket jacket later.
They tried to give me the 'green whistle' - a kind of pain killer/happy-gas. Well apparently I wouldn't take it properly and kept breathing around it. Bugger, I hear it's really good stuff! :laugh:
So anyway, I think the paramedics were a little puzzled about how to straighten me out, but in the end they decided to turn me away from the bad arm, kind so I was face down, then over the good arm onto my back.
Then I got to go all the way back down the spur in the ambulance to Healesville where a helicopter was waiting. I've always wanted to go for a ride in a helicopter. Wish I remembered that part. I think I have another really vague memory of the noise, but that could be my imagination.
It's funny, I've said quite a few times that I wish I could remember the chopper ride to the hospital, but TWICE I had to explain that, no, it wasn't Harley - it was a helicopter!! WTF?!??!!!
Some people have motorcycles on the brain 24/7!!!
So I was air-lifted to the Royal Melbourne Hospital and I guess the rest of the day was spent doing tests, x-rays and scans to assess the full extent of the damage, and to make sure they'd picked up all of the injuries and had everything under control.
I was transferred to the Austin Hospital (also in Melbourne) later that night, as the Austin specializes in spinal injuries. I had my father and Adam at my bedside all day and night for I don't know how long. At least for the first 3 days solid, then they were starting to pong, and were sent home for some rest and a shower! Hehehe. :pissed:
Mum had only just touched down in England, and had to come right back, which was a bit sad because it was her first time back there in over 40 years. It was a trip she was making with her sister, they were meant to be reuniting with family and childhood friends. I was sad that she'd missed out on such an important personal journey, but I was glad to have my mum back with me!
I'm not sure what happened on the Sunday. I know I still had tubes up my nose and down my throat, which I was trying to pull out all the time. So I was restrained. I was on a drip, which is meant to be enough to sustain me. I was not allowed to have anything to drink because it had not yet been confirmed when I would be going in for surgery.
I have never been so thirsty!
That's the one thing I remember of the first few days, being thirsty.
It wasn't until Monday that I went in for surgery. All my memories around that time are pretty lucid. I think after the surgery, once I was awake but still dopey from the anaesthetics I was allowed to have the occasional ice cube. I must have crunched them down so fast. I was given water-soaked swabs too, like giant q-tips, those were sucked dry in a flash!! I badly wanted more water than what they were giving me, and for some reason I was desperately craving orange juice!
Because of the tubes down my throat I couldn't speak, so I made the motions of writing. It was a bit like playing charades, but eventually someone got me a pen and paper. I still have the paper somewhere, and all over it is written 'water?' 'O.J?' 'one O.J swab?' 'please' 'more h2o' 'just one O.J swab'. It was barely legible.
I distinctly remember my cousin Emma secretly giving me an ice cube that was dipped in cordial.
(Cordial is like, a fruit juice concentrate that you mix down with water - the American equivalent might be Coolaid?).
Oh boy, Flavour!!!! It was intense!! Amazing!! :fing02:
My thirst was still far from quenched.
So, the extent of my injuries:
~ I had broken five vertebrae, from T6 to T10. Apart from the broken vertebrae, the actual spinal cord was damaged at 'T6'. So I'm paralysed from that level down. (Just below the bra-line).
~ I also had a collapsed lung
~ A rather neat gash from the hip down towards the groin, now it kind of looks like I've had a caesarian in the wrong place
~ There was a tear in the aorta (the main artery from the heart) but the tear was just in the very inner layer, creating a little flap that was luckily being pushed back into the right place with the direction of blood flow. This one could have been serious if the tear had been right through the wall of the aorta. Lucky!!
~ There was some damage to my spleen, but hey, what do we need a spleen for anyway?
~ There was damage to one kidney as well, I can't remember if it was 10% of one kidney that was damaged, or 10% of overall kidney function, or 10% of kidney function in the damaged one... blah blah blah... you get the idea
~ I had a badly broken arm too. The humerus. Not very fcuking funny though!
Picture the ball and socket joint of your shoulder, the humerus is the bone in the upper arm. Well I managed to snap the ball off the top of the humerus, and shatter the shaft of the bone a little below that too.
Apparently the surgeons didn't hold much hope for the use of that arm, and I remember being still in a bit of a morphine haze when the surgeon came to visit me about two weeks later to see how I was doing and to tell me how well the surgery had gone.
He was grinning from ear to ear when he said that he expects that my arm would be pretty much normal, and that they had pieced the bone together much better than he first thought would be possible. He said that there might be some gaps but they could be filled in and fixed later on, if need be.
He was very proud of his handy work!
Well now the broken arm is fast becoming my good arm!
My left arm was the broken one, but my right arm was black and blue from the shoulder to the elbow and actually looked much worse than the broken one, and it felt worse too.
On the Monday (day 3) they operated on my spine and arm in one big 8 hour surgery. I was told how many units of blood I required but I can't remember.
I really ought to give some back. *Puts blood donation on the 'to do' list*
I was in intensive care for nearly a week after the operation, during which time Mum came home from England. I was very happy to see her, but sad that she'd missed out on the trip. For at least the first day or two after the operation I still had tubes down my throat but was slowly allowed to drink a little more, and eventually was allowed some orange juice. That was the most divine orange juice on the planet, just incredible!!!
During that week in intensive care I saw plenty of visitors. The Doctors allowed just two people in at a time, which meant one of my two bouncers (Dad or Adam) plus one other. I don't know how many people they chaperoned through, but I was determined to see anyone that came, and wouldn't let them turn anyone away.
Was I being bossy again? *Gasp*
Apparently Adam put up a post asking people to stop sending/bringing flowers, because the room was starting look more like a florist, and the nurses said we'd have to start throwing them out as they just couldn't handle any more!!
That week was a blur.
It was my birthday one week after the operation; I was only just out of intensive care so that day was a bit of a blur too! There was quite a party thrown, I know because I've seen all the photos http://www.vfrdiscus...tyle_emoticons/default/wink.gif
Here are a couple of pic's.
My family (except my younger sister couldn't be there)
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With Adam
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The famous pi�ata that some of you might recognize from that dreadful you-tube video.
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I think whoever bought it didn't think about something to bash it with, but luckily someone volunteered a golf club they happened to have in their car!
Who carries a single golf club in their car? *Suspicious look*
So next it was off to the Royal Talbot Rehabilitation Centre
I really thought that this place would be full of victims of car/motorcycle accidents, but that was not the case (in the beginning).
In my 8 months at the Royal Talbot I saw almost two complete turnovers of patients come and go. Towards the end of my stay, there were lots of motorcyclists there. 3 Harley's, a Ducati, one Yamaha R1, a Suzuki GSXR, a few dirt bikes, and of course I scored one point for Honda on my VFR. All in all the bikers won hands down, but I have met victims of all kinds!
There have been car and bike accidents, sky diving and horse riding accidents, people who have fallen off chairs and ladders or through roofs, slipped in the shower, several who dived into shallow water, one who fell off his push bike, a European champion trampolinist who had a nasty landing, and a few crazy things like a guy whose neck was broken when he was severely bashed, almost to death, a 17 year old kid who had a nasty car crash during a police chase, and a guy who was shot five times!! One bullet went through the spinal cord. :blink:
It's the standard greeting when you meet each other in rehab. It's "what's your name?"... "What's your injury level?" and "how did you get injured". And it's usually the name that sticks last. I'd remember people by the injury level and how they got hurt... Conversations would sound like, "the T12 bloke, stacked a Harley... you know the one?" or "the C5 guy who fell of the trampoline"...
It's a little bit like the forum here, you might remember people by the bike they ride, then their forum name... And you might never know their real name sometimes.
It didn't take too long to settle in and find ways of making fun. Each bed had a telephone beside it, each with its own line. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to work out that the numbers went in sequence, so I worked out everyone's numbers pretty quickly.
We could not dial out, but we could receive calls and dial 4 digit extensions. So I started calling some of the other patients and trying to order pizza's, or ask them what the time was, or just make a stupid noise! Lots of silly little things like that. I told one person and eventually everyone was doing it and it became boring, so then to amuse ourselves a few of us would sit in the dining area where we could see the nurses station, and we'd call them from our mobile phones, with more of the same silly antics.
I started drawing silly faces on all the fruit (with peel) and putting them back in the fruit bowl, and wonder if the person who discovered the 'bananas in pyjama's, or the 'Halloween oranges' found it amusing. :laugh:
The practical jokes and mischief took off from there. There was lots of racing around and holding on the back of the powered chairs and being towed around the ward at speed. One character, Jeff, would topple out of his chair frequently, much to the amusement of the rest of us. :goofy:
It wasn't all fun and games, I clocked up hours of physiotherapy and gym, aches and pains. There were lots of quiet times too.
I was allowed to make it part of my 'therapy' to make something from the leather scraps that were once my jacket. I rearranged the pieces soooo many times until I found just the right way to put it together, and there was a lady who worked out of the gym using an industrial sewing machine, ideal for getting through leather :biggrin:
Here's what became of the Jacket:
Click for ---> Slideshow - JACKET
Next is another slideshow. A few people have had a 'sneak preview' and said it was sad, maybe a little bit confronting, or that it has very strong impact. It's not meant to be sad, or to shock, but it might satisfy some of those curious minds.
Very early on when I was in hospital, I might have even still been in intensive care, or maybe only just out on the ward, I was given a gift from the people on Netrider (Aus forum) - an 80 gig ipod loaded up with thousands of songs, 50 movies and a stack of photos, such a thoughtful gift!! It was perfect for my bedridden situation and it got a lot of use.
All the photos of the broken bike were on the ipod too, and my family and Adam weren't sure if it was appropriate for me to see those images. In the end they did give it to me and showed me the pictures. The bike was pretty mashed. Those pictures didn't really shock me at all. I related to them, it made perfect sense to me that it was all smashed up and broken, and in a way it validated the way I felt - a little bit smashed up and broken too. It was far worse for me when I saw photos of the bike whole, specially the one of me smiling, standing next to it. Quite the opposite reaction to everyone else, apparently http://www.vfrdiscus...tyle_emoticons/default/wink.gif
So those images might be what makes people sad about this slideshow, but the rest is happy, I promise!
Here goes!
BEFORE & AFTER
Click for ---> Slideshow - BEFORE & AFTER
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** If you just want to see the before/after photos, skip to the end for the links to the slideshow **
Yikes. It's hard to know where to start with this. I guess I just wanted to tell the story of what happened in the accident. I know I scared A LOT of people, near and far, and nobody knew if they should ask what happened, or how it happened, or what the extent of my injuries were. And at the time, those that did know what was going on weren't sure how much they should say. I understand that, but I really wasn't/am not that sensitive about it.
All I can tell you is that I don't remember what happened to cause the accident, and nobody saw what happened, so all we can do is speculate.
So to start off, here's what was my beautiful bike. I loved this machine, it was a thrill to ride the first day, and more every day after that!
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This picture was taken on the day of my first ride.
Stewy and I rode all over the countryside. I was still learning the bike, but I was so comfortable on it. It was so smooth and easy to maneuver compared to the lumpy cruiser I had before.
FINALLY!!! A real bike! Oh boy, even little things like over taking, woah!!!!!
I took to it like a duck takes to water.
We had SUCH a ball that day :-)
I had this picture on my wall in rehab. I looked at it often and I wished I was her. Wished I had her life again.
I think the only pictures of me and my bike were taken on the day of my first ride. I don't know why I didn't get around to taking more, but I really wish I had!
Take lots of pictures - of your bikes, yourselves, or anything or anyone you love, ok people?!!!
I think this is the only picture in existence of me actually on the bike. A pity it's a bit grainy and it's a pity I was all the way through the corner before the camera took the photo. The 'delay factor' is the worst part about digital cameras.
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On the roadside - I think we were swapping camera duties or something.
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Stewy with my bike. Seems a nice VFR can make anyone look good!! Hehehe... http://www.vfrdiscus...tyle_emoticons/default/wink.gif
I love this picture.
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So that was the bike before the accident.
Not much was said on the forums about what actually happened with the accident, just that it HAD happened. I guess it's hard for people to know what to say, what is the etiquette around this type of thing, and of course nobody really knows what happened.
So here’s what we do know:
It was the 4th of November 2006. A Saturday.
For such a long time I had been looking forward to this road trip. Three solid days of riding with a great bunch of people. It was going to be such fun!
We left Melbourne in the morning, made a few stops to link up with other riders and to get fuel before continuing on to ride through the Black Spur, one of the most popular roads for motorcyclists in the state. It's a great piece of road through thick forest, with nicely cambered corners and some great hairpins. The road surface is beautiful and smooth.
I was riding at about the middle-back of the group, I guess. I was behind five or six of the more experienced riders, who disappeared out of sight after about 2 corners, and I'd say there were three or four riders behind me as well. It was an unfamiliar road, so I wasn't hooning (at least by my standards!). Sure, my lines weren't perfect, but there was nothing hair-raising.
Apparently I'd ridden halfway through the spur, but the last thing I remember is riding along a section that straightened out a little between corners, heading towards a left hand bend.
I remember increasing speed along the straight, and slowing again and dropping gears for the corner.
I was still on the straight, and was about to reach the bend when my memory stops, but I was upright, happy and moving along.
Then I woke up dazed and confused in hospital, and very annoyed about the uncomfortable tubes down my throat!!
The rest is speculation.
One minute I was riding, and having a ball, then I wake up in hospital in a daze, being told that I had this crazy accident, damaged my spine and that I would never walk again.
It was quite surreal, and it still is when I think about it. Like as if you've really settled into a good movie, and you become totally enthralled, but then right in the middle of the best bit, the tape switches to something completely different. It just doesn't match up, and the new story really isn't very nice at all. You desperately want to get back to the other story that you were enjoying so much, to see where it goes. You come to the realization that you will never know the ending to that story, you just have to try and get to like the new one.
There was no 'uh-oh' moment, no 'oh shit' or 'this is gonna hurt' moments. I don't remember any kind of panic, or grabbing the brakes, nothing like that. That's not to say that those moments didn't happen either, it may just be that I don't recall them.
Stewy was the next rider behind me, and as he entered the corner he saw my bike sliding and spinning back down the road towards him, and he saw me sliding towards the left side of the road, and the car pulled over on the opposite side of the road. Unfortunately he didn't see what caused the accident. He just saw the aftermath.
I had been experimenting with using lower gears in corners a little bit, I think I was in third gear along the straight, so perhaps in preparation for the corner I accidently knocked it down to first instead of second, causing a compression lock-up??
I wonder if perhaps I'd gained too much speed on the straight section, and then jumped on the brakes too hard and locked up the front??
Perhaps the car was on the wrong side of the road or even just part of the way over, and caused me to panic and grab the brakes??
Perhaps there was oil on the road, or gravel, or some other kind of debris??
Perhaps there was a mechanical failure, like the chain broke, or the engine ceased??
*sings* Perhaps, perhaps, perrrrrhaps!
Perhaps I just stuffed up.
As much as I'd love to be able to blame someone or something else, in all honesty, I think it was most likely the compression lock up thing... What a silly mistake.
PERHAPS it's not good to ponder on it all too much, I will never know anyway.
The driver of the car said that as he came around the bend he saw the bike and I were already on the ground sliding, and he tried to swerve and miss me. I have no reason to doubt that, it makes sense. If I was still up on the bike when he hit me, then I would have done a 'superman' and gone flying over the bonnet... ah, what do you call it? The hood!, ending up on the other side of the road.
So it seems like it was just bad luck that I low sided, and a car just happened to be right there, in the right place at the right time.
Or rather, I lost control and low-sided in the wrong place, at the wrong time...
Apparently the driver was trained in first aid, and he took control and managed the scene.
They tell me I was quite twisted, my legs were as if I was lying face down, but torso turned so I was on my side, with my left arm under me and kind of twisted behind.
Yikes! is that hard to picture?!! :blink:
I had to get someone to lay on the floor and demonstrate before I really understood!
They tell me I was conscious and talking the whole time, although I don't remember anything until about two days later. Funny how you block these things out.
Apparently I could still move my feet while I was lying there on the ground. Oh yeah, I only had one boot on as well.
I guess I knew I was in a bad way, and must have been able to tell that I was twisted up. I was asking to be put onto my back, but of course that was out of the question. All I kept saying was that I wanted to be on my back, and while people were trying to keep me quiet and calm, I was yelling at them all, sounding grumpy, and demanding to be put on my back.
I have a very very vague memory of Adam talking to me, because he kept calling me sweety. He was pleading with me to keep still. But he says I was growling at him, saying "help me get onto my back!"... "I want to be on my BACK!"... "ADAM!! MAKE THEM PUT ME ON MY BACK!"
I don't recall any of that.
Poor Adam. Poor everyone. This must have been incredibly upsetting.
It was obvious that it was pretty serious, and I guess they must have felt pretty helpless, there wasn't anything they could do. We were in a fairly remote place, so it took about 20 minutes for an ambulance to arrive. 20 minutes of hearing me begging to be turned onto my back, but what could they do? They had to keep trying to explain why they wouldn't help me.
Oh boy, I don't even remember what it was like for me, so I can only imagine what it must have been like for everyone else, just horrible!
When the ambulance got there, they proceeded to cut my draggin jeans, and leather jacket off *cries*.
It doesn't bother me so much that I was lying undignified and almost starkers on the side of the road, so much as it bothers me that they chopped wildly into my jacket! - And that's taking into consideration that I had on the kind of knickers that you don't want to be wearing the day you get hit by a bus!)
I'm so glad I don't remember that bit!!! Although if I knew what was going on, I would have asked them to cut the jacket more neatly!
There will be more on what became of the Joe Rocket jacket later.
They tried to give me the 'green whistle' - a kind of pain killer/happy-gas. Well apparently I wouldn't take it properly and kept breathing around it. Bugger, I hear it's really good stuff! :laugh:
So anyway, I think the paramedics were a little puzzled about how to straighten me out, but in the end they decided to turn me away from the bad arm, kind so I was face down, then over the good arm onto my back.
Then I got to go all the way back down the spur in the ambulance to Healesville where a helicopter was waiting. I've always wanted to go for a ride in a helicopter. Wish I remembered that part. I think I have another really vague memory of the noise, but that could be my imagination.
It's funny, I've said quite a few times that I wish I could remember the chopper ride to the hospital, but TWICE I had to explain that, no, it wasn't Harley - it was a helicopter!! WTF?!??!!!
Some people have motorcycles on the brain 24/7!!!
So I was air-lifted to the Royal Melbourne Hospital and I guess the rest of the day was spent doing tests, x-rays and scans to assess the full extent of the damage, and to make sure they'd picked up all of the injuries and had everything under control.
I was transferred to the Austin Hospital (also in Melbourne) later that night, as the Austin specializes in spinal injuries. I had my father and Adam at my bedside all day and night for I don't know how long. At least for the first 3 days solid, then they were starting to pong, and were sent home for some rest and a shower! Hehehe. :pissed:
Mum had only just touched down in England, and had to come right back, which was a bit sad because it was her first time back there in over 40 years. It was a trip she was making with her sister, they were meant to be reuniting with family and childhood friends. I was sad that she'd missed out on such an important personal journey, but I was glad to have my mum back with me!
I'm not sure what happened on the Sunday. I know I still had tubes up my nose and down my throat, which I was trying to pull out all the time. So I was restrained. I was on a drip, which is meant to be enough to sustain me. I was not allowed to have anything to drink because it had not yet been confirmed when I would be going in for surgery.
I have never been so thirsty!
That's the one thing I remember of the first few days, being thirsty.
It wasn't until Monday that I went in for surgery. All my memories around that time are pretty lucid. I think after the surgery, once I was awake but still dopey from the anaesthetics I was allowed to have the occasional ice cube. I must have crunched them down so fast. I was given water-soaked swabs too, like giant q-tips, those were sucked dry in a flash!! I badly wanted more water than what they were giving me, and for some reason I was desperately craving orange juice!
Because of the tubes down my throat I couldn't speak, so I made the motions of writing. It was a bit like playing charades, but eventually someone got me a pen and paper. I still have the paper somewhere, and all over it is written 'water?' 'O.J?' 'one O.J swab?' 'please' 'more h2o' 'just one O.J swab'. It was barely legible.
I distinctly remember my cousin Emma secretly giving me an ice cube that was dipped in cordial.
(Cordial is like, a fruit juice concentrate that you mix down with water - the American equivalent might be Coolaid?).
Oh boy, Flavour!!!! It was intense!! Amazing!! :fing02:
My thirst was still far from quenched.
So, the extent of my injuries:
~ I had broken five vertebrae, from T6 to T10. Apart from the broken vertebrae, the actual spinal cord was damaged at 'T6'. So I'm paralysed from that level down. (Just below the bra-line).
~ I also had a collapsed lung
~ A rather neat gash from the hip down towards the groin, now it kind of looks like I've had a caesarian in the wrong place
~ There was a tear in the aorta (the main artery from the heart) but the tear was just in the very inner layer, creating a little flap that was luckily being pushed back into the right place with the direction of blood flow. This one could have been serious if the tear had been right through the wall of the aorta. Lucky!!
~ There was some damage to my spleen, but hey, what do we need a spleen for anyway?
~ There was damage to one kidney as well, I can't remember if it was 10% of one kidney that was damaged, or 10% of overall kidney function, or 10% of kidney function in the damaged one... blah blah blah... you get the idea
~ I had a badly broken arm too. The humerus. Not very fcuking funny though!
Picture the ball and socket joint of your shoulder, the humerus is the bone in the upper arm. Well I managed to snap the ball off the top of the humerus, and shatter the shaft of the bone a little below that too.
Apparently the surgeons didn't hold much hope for the use of that arm, and I remember being still in a bit of a morphine haze when the surgeon came to visit me about two weeks later to see how I was doing and to tell me how well the surgery had gone.
He was grinning from ear to ear when he said that he expects that my arm would be pretty much normal, and that they had pieced the bone together much better than he first thought would be possible. He said that there might be some gaps but they could be filled in and fixed later on, if need be.
He was very proud of his handy work!
Well now the broken arm is fast becoming my good arm!
My left arm was the broken one, but my right arm was black and blue from the shoulder to the elbow and actually looked much worse than the broken one, and it felt worse too.
On the Monday (day 3) they operated on my spine and arm in one big 8 hour surgery. I was told how many units of blood I required but I can't remember.
I really ought to give some back. *Puts blood donation on the 'to do' list*
I was in intensive care for nearly a week after the operation, during which time Mum came home from England. I was very happy to see her, but sad that she'd missed out on the trip. For at least the first day or two after the operation I still had tubes down my throat but was slowly allowed to drink a little more, and eventually was allowed some orange juice. That was the most divine orange juice on the planet, just incredible!!!
During that week in intensive care I saw plenty of visitors. The Doctors allowed just two people in at a time, which meant one of my two bouncers (Dad or Adam) plus one other. I don't know how many people they chaperoned through, but I was determined to see anyone that came, and wouldn't let them turn anyone away.
Was I being bossy again? *Gasp*
Apparently Adam put up a post asking people to stop sending/bringing flowers, because the room was starting look more like a florist, and the nurses said we'd have to start throwing them out as they just couldn't handle any more!!
That week was a blur.
It was my birthday one week after the operation; I was only just out of intensive care so that day was a bit of a blur too! There was quite a party thrown, I know because I've seen all the photos http://www.vfrdiscus...tyle_emoticons/default/wink.gif
Here are a couple of pic's.
My family (except my younger sister couldn't be there)
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With Adam
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The famous pi�ata that some of you might recognize from that dreadful you-tube video.
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I think whoever bought it didn't think about something to bash it with, but luckily someone volunteered a golf club they happened to have in their car!
Who carries a single golf club in their car? *Suspicious look*
So next it was off to the Royal Talbot Rehabilitation Centre
I really thought that this place would be full of victims of car/motorcycle accidents, but that was not the case (in the beginning).
In my 8 months at the Royal Talbot I saw almost two complete turnovers of patients come and go. Towards the end of my stay, there were lots of motorcyclists there. 3 Harley's, a Ducati, one Yamaha R1, a Suzuki GSXR, a few dirt bikes, and of course I scored one point for Honda on my VFR. All in all the bikers won hands down, but I have met victims of all kinds!
There have been car and bike accidents, sky diving and horse riding accidents, people who have fallen off chairs and ladders or through roofs, slipped in the shower, several who dived into shallow water, one who fell off his push bike, a European champion trampolinist who had a nasty landing, and a few crazy things like a guy whose neck was broken when he was severely bashed, almost to death, a 17 year old kid who had a nasty car crash during a police chase, and a guy who was shot five times!! One bullet went through the spinal cord. :blink:
It's the standard greeting when you meet each other in rehab. It's "what's your name?"... "What's your injury level?" and "how did you get injured". And it's usually the name that sticks last. I'd remember people by the injury level and how they got hurt... Conversations would sound like, "the T12 bloke, stacked a Harley... you know the one?" or "the C5 guy who fell of the trampoline"...
It's a little bit like the forum here, you might remember people by the bike they ride, then their forum name... And you might never know their real name sometimes.
It didn't take too long to settle in and find ways of making fun. Each bed had a telephone beside it, each with its own line. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to work out that the numbers went in sequence, so I worked out everyone's numbers pretty quickly.
We could not dial out, but we could receive calls and dial 4 digit extensions. So I started calling some of the other patients and trying to order pizza's, or ask them what the time was, or just make a stupid noise! Lots of silly little things like that. I told one person and eventually everyone was doing it and it became boring, so then to amuse ourselves a few of us would sit in the dining area where we could see the nurses station, and we'd call them from our mobile phones, with more of the same silly antics.
I started drawing silly faces on all the fruit (with peel) and putting them back in the fruit bowl, and wonder if the person who discovered the 'bananas in pyjama's, or the 'Halloween oranges' found it amusing. :laugh:
The practical jokes and mischief took off from there. There was lots of racing around and holding on the back of the powered chairs and being towed around the ward at speed. One character, Jeff, would topple out of his chair frequently, much to the amusement of the rest of us. :goofy:
It wasn't all fun and games, I clocked up hours of physiotherapy and gym, aches and pains. There were lots of quiet times too.
I was allowed to make it part of my 'therapy' to make something from the leather scraps that were once my jacket. I rearranged the pieces soooo many times until I found just the right way to put it together, and there was a lady who worked out of the gym using an industrial sewing machine, ideal for getting through leather :biggrin:
Here's what became of the Jacket:
Click for ---> Slideshow - JACKET
Next is another slideshow. A few people have had a 'sneak preview' and said it was sad, maybe a little bit confronting, or that it has very strong impact. It's not meant to be sad, or to shock, but it might satisfy some of those curious minds.
Very early on when I was in hospital, I might have even still been in intensive care, or maybe only just out on the ward, I was given a gift from the people on Netrider (Aus forum) - an 80 gig ipod loaded up with thousands of songs, 50 movies and a stack of photos, such a thoughtful gift!! It was perfect for my bedridden situation and it got a lot of use.
All the photos of the broken bike were on the ipod too, and my family and Adam weren't sure if it was appropriate for me to see those images. In the end they did give it to me and showed me the pictures. The bike was pretty mashed. Those pictures didn't really shock me at all. I related to them, it made perfect sense to me that it was all smashed up and broken, and in a way it validated the way I felt - a little bit smashed up and broken too. It was far worse for me when I saw photos of the bike whole, specially the one of me smiling, standing next to it. Quite the opposite reaction to everyone else, apparently http://www.vfrdiscus...tyle_emoticons/default/wink.gif
So those images might be what makes people sad about this slideshow, but the rest is happy, I promise!
Here goes!
BEFORE & AFTER
Click for ---> Slideshow - BEFORE & AFTER
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