Bending and straightening: what life’s like four months after the accident.
Christmas comes and goes the same as it does every year: stress; family; mates; mince pies; arguments but no alcohol this time.
It is four months since the accident, and I’ve been out of hospital for a few weeks. Christmas would usually be spent driving hundreds of miles to the north to see my family however I choose not to struggle with the British rail service. The effort it would take to get across London from the south coast (itself already experiencing difficulties from flooding) and then many more hours on the trains just seems beyond me at this stage – so my girlfriend and I settle for a quiet one at home watching Netflix and drinking too much tea. It takes me many days to overcome the feeling that I’m letting people down but I get reassured that I’m not.
Learning to use crutches with a leg that’s 5 centimetres shorter for the next year
Reminders of the fall
It’s not just the broken leg and fractured skull that remind me I’m injured: my left ear is still ringing and feels like someone is holding a cup over it and doesn’t hear properly yet. And then the heel of my hands tingle as if I’ve got some kind of cold injury. I also get hiccups after every meal - apparently from where the oxygen tube was fed down my throat whilst I was in a coma.
Far more irritating though is my sense of smell still hasn’t returned. Clearly my brain is engaged in some kind of internal rewiring though as I get phantom feelings of smell inconstantly appear – almost like someone is going through a flip-file to remind themselves how the sense works!
It almost feels that my body has found the most annoying things it can do to distract me some days.
Life changes
My life patterns have radically altered since I left hospital:
It now takes me around an hour to get out of bed, washed, dressed, hobble downstairs and make breakfast each day before I’m ready to start working. I’ve resorted to keeping snacks in my room as I know it’ll take me a long time to make breakfast. As much as I’m keen to keep my weight down, my go-to is crisps, chocolate and nuts meaning that it’s not long before I start to show excessive belly fat: this injury is certainly doing its utmost to remind I should’ve been more careful on the mountain.
Understanding that I don’t really move anywhere fast yet has been a challenge. Prior to the injury, I led a very active and fast-paced lifestyle for the last two decades and now this feels like I’m moving at half-speed: both professionally and personally.
After a few days of being at home, I realise that I can’t move hot drinks without spilling them and find myself wearing half of it. I scour through my outdoor gear and find an insulated mug and a bum bag to help me move hot things back into my living room where I can lay out horizontally and eat or drink them. It’s a silly look however I couldn’t care less about how I look, right now it’s making life slightly more manageable for the next ten months.
Long nights awake
Some days, the Taylor Spatial Frame (the external fixator) aches 24/7: all day and worse at night, waking me up every few hours when I inevitably roll onto it or knock it. I’m not used to taking pain killers so generally wait until it’s keeping me awake before I take a paracetamol – or when it’s really bad; a codeine. Other days, it just aches intermittently. I joke with friends that It feels like I’m babysitting an irritating child or pet some days – but my joking covers up genuine frustration.
As expected, it’s made me nervous about going to sleep in case I end up lying awake for hours – so I find more work to do or distractions to keep me awake. I’ve spent my years growing up in the creative sector before joining the military, so I redevelop my love for art and design, however, now start to indulge my growing interest in biology and chemistry.
When your leg becomes three times its normal width overnight, it’s inevitable that you’re going to bump it from time to time. Each time I do, I’m swiftly reminded that it’s connected to my shin bone by fourteen steel rods. Each knock sends vibrations through my skeleton, making me shudder and curse myelf. After a month of wearing it, I’d assume that I’d be more careful with it – but each knock confirms that’s not the case.
Whilst sometimes it appears things seem bad; I do have many good things on my side to look forward to. Friends living nearby get in touch and come around to hang out or offer to take me for coffee next, haircuts, supermarket trips or just even to see the sea.
Looking after myself
My housemates and girlfriend cook for me until I figure out how best to use the supermarket’s home delivery service. When they’re not around to cook for me: frozen pre-cooked or dehydrated-outdoor meals mixed with humous and pesto sauce sustain me when I can’t stand up for long enough to cook anything healthy.
But sadly it’s not always good as easy to live with the frame attached to me for so long: some consultancies are supportive that I’ll continue to consult for them – others aren’t as supportive and tell me I won’t be able to deliver work on their behalf. As the lifestyle / career choice is going to be clearly affected, I change my habits to save as much money as possible, as the recovery isn’t that obvious
