The Accident: one year on

So, it’s to the exact minute exactly a year ago that I had the accident that gave me the two plates and nine screws of titanium which have not plagued my life, but have me adjust my life.

I’m not writing this to sound conceited that I remember almost every little detail of that night, even down to the way the shadows were falling on the ground.

It’s been an interesting year, and I did think when I got to this point, I would have finally turned the corner and be able to dance at least…I’m not there yet, hopefully soon.

Of course right now I didn’t expect to be sitting here typing this with one hand, since my left is bloody useless and hurts like a demon…I’m deliberately not taking painkillers so I have to blame myself for this.

So a year since I had to deal with the fact that I had to learn to walk again, this would be the moment that I become sentimental and think that this gave me some perspective on how it is to be disabled and gave me a reality check on how it feels to have to learn to walk again. But mine was only temporary so I can’t compare it to anything, I had enough highlights and low lights to never to want to go back to that time.

But a year, perspective…let’s find some. In writing news since I can’t exactly type like normal, I’m running my book though Grammarly and for some reason every sentence over five words, become “Wordiness”. I had no idea wordiness was even a word until now!

I am however going to run it through a professional, yet have to wait until payday to see if I can afford such an endeavour. But it looks good, not trying to be biased, but I really enjoyed putting the finishing touches to it.

In other news, since the reason I’ve had to delay everything because of my accursed arm I’m going to flashback to a few days to explain what happened. Since it is operation number 3 after all.

As anyone who’s read my last post could figure out, I was having trouble sleeping. So, much trouble since sister K was meant to be dropping me off at 7:30 in the morning and I didn’t wake up.

Yes, you’re read that right, the day I was having surgery and my alarm clock didn’t go off. So since K had to go to work, I had to get the bus…to go to the operation.

In some ways I was actually pleased about this since the roads were busy, and if I was in the car with K I would have got nervous, at least on the bus which is something I do all the time so it felt natural. Until I got to Hillingdon and on some level was expecting a repeat of all the drama last year. Thankfully in the Day Surgery part, I was seen by Ward nurse Christy who was wonderful, got settled and given one of those tie back nightgowns…and they are no fun to tie.

At this point in my cubicle seeing the faces of the people who were going ahead of me, I felt pretty Zen; I felt fine…until my Surgeon came in and told me, it was going to be a 45-minute operation.

45 minutes, I was going to be out for 45 minutes!

And almost on cue, I started crying. I had no idea I was holding back the tears until that moment. I was going to be out for almost an hour! I imagine they were used to seeing people like this, so they just left me and give me time to prepare, in which I did by reading or napping until 10:30 when I was told that I was going down to surgery.

I do give them that since if I had more of an idea of the time i know I would been more freaked out but I was strangely calm as I was going down. Old pro at this, more of a sense of déjà vu than anything else. Whilst I was waiting for oblivion, a plastic catheter was put in my hand, this time the right over the left, and because apparently I had a guy who was doing work experience, so soon blood was dripping down my hand!

After that was cleaned up they set to work on my cocktail of drugs to knock me out as soon as they mentioned the word “cocktail” I asked for a Pina Colada, I have no idea why since I hate that drink but perhaps I’ve seen Guardians of the Galaxy way too many times…because it is that good of a film.

I was suddenly worried that I was going to sign off singing that in my head for the next few hours I began to sing “Hooked on a Feeling” instead! Being knocked out again; having to breathe through the oxygen before it gave way to oblivion didn’t bother me.

But this time I woke up in recovery, totally disoriented and since I was without my glasses everything was hazy, but there was someone at the foot of my bed and I squinted as the door was opening and saw someone being brought in clearly post-surgery with a breathing tube down their throat. This was strange to think since I know that was me not that much earlier. At this point, I blanked out again and woke upon on the ward, learning that I had been out for five hours!

Getting to my feet, and getting out of the cubicle, nurse Christy came over to get me some tea…since I’m British and it makes everything better and I wasn’t in the mood to tell them that I can’t stand the stuff.

After a while I decided to get dressed and at the time I was fit enough to get discharged since K was picking me up, only I learned that she wouldn’t  be able to pick me up for at least an hour.

Since I was starving I just got a sandwich and a drink and was trying not to think that I had just had surgery, in retrospect I could have just got the bus home but the last thing I wanted was to pass out on the U4!

When I was picked up, I had to option of going back to hers, instead I told her I’d go back to mine since according to rules after surgery is a no-no as you’re meant to have someone with you at all times.

Nice thought in hindsight, but all I wanted to do was go to bed since the cocktail I was given was starting to wear off and I was coming to realise how much pain I was actually in. But since K is the eldest she did stay with me that night to keep an eye on me. I was obviously fine.

The first night was the worst, followed by the worst day since the pain still hasn’t subsided, but I knew this at the time. I knew it would happen, but like before this isn’t forever and I feel a lot better this time. Even though I have no idea what the scar looks like since it’s still dressed up

So one year one, still standing and moving on. Not too shabby I think

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One Response to The Accident: one year on

  1. KaydenNguyen says:

    interesting read, want to read more!

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