That’s me in the Princess Alexandra hospital emergency room 9 days ago. Apparently a car failed to give way causing an unavoidable collision on my usual Saturday training ride, although I have absolutely no recollection of riding my bike that day, the accident, the ambulance or the 10 hours that followed in the emergency room. I was told what happened and where I was but if you’d asked me I couldn’t have told you anything. As far as my memory serves me I was getting a haircut on Saturday morning and the next thing I’m waking up in the high dependency trauma ward 24 hours later.
Forgetting is a defence mechanism and I’m thankful for it. Memories of the crash may have prevented me ever getting on the road again.
The 7 days I spent in the high dependency ward are a blur, I was under a heavy vale of drugs and only vaguely remember doctor’s, friend’s and family’s visits. At the time I felt reasonably alert but my friends are still repeating things I said during that time that I don’t remember saying.
I broke my jaw, nose, left eye socket, both cheeks, six ribs in my back, three vertebrae and punctured my left lung. They assured me that the vertebrae were “stable” breaks that would not need to be operated on and would heal in time. This is contrary to what I used to believe about broken backs. I’d been under the impression that a broken back was the end, it meant paraplegia, quadriplegia or death. If the break is stable that’s simply not the case, my arms, legs and body are totally functional.
There’s not much you can do about broken ribs and my back was stable but my face needed to be fixed. I had also sliced open my carotid artery, the vein that takes blood from the heart to the brain, so surgery on my face operation was delayed until the 5th day in hospital.
I spent 6 hours in surgery and had 9 titanium plates put into my face. Most were put in through cuts in my mouth but some around my left eye. The surgeons wanted a symmetrical arrangement of plates but my left cheek was so destroyed that there was nothing to attach plates to on that side. They considered taking a piece of my skull and using that but ended up making do and are happy with the result. The anaesthetic process for that operation is my most traumatic memory of the whole experience. It involved a painful combination of tubes up my nose and down my throat and I remember wondering how on earth it was possible that this was the process that was supposed to suppress pain.
Before the operation I was a mess of tubes, IV drips and monitoring equipment including a catheter. After the operation my recovery improved greatly and I was pleased to get rid of some of the equipment. A couple of days later I was able to remove the morphine and my pain button which were causing me extreme tiredness and impeding my recovery. Later I moved from the high dependency ward next door to the more relaxed, quiet and pleasant orthopaedic ward.
Quickly I was able to start walking and having real showers independently. The hospital started to feel less like an aid to my recovery and more like a hindrance. I’d never been a hospital patient before and hadn’t noticed what a horrible place it was in my first few drug-addled days. But now with a clearer mind and more independence my progress felt stifled and I pushed hard for a discharge which I was granted yesterday.
I’m now staying at my Mum’s for a few days as a half way house between hospital and home. The difference being out of hospital makes is incredible, I feel myself getting stronger and feeling better almost by the hour and I’m hoping to be back home before the weekend and back at work, at least in some sort of part time arrangement within another two weeks.
My face is still significantly swollen to the point where I barely recognise myself. I only saw my face in the mirror for the first time 7 days after the operation and was shocked by what I saw, it wasn’t me. Meanwhile everyone was remarking on how improved my face was looking on each visit. I’m glad I didn’t see it earlier. I’ve been working hard over the last few days with the ice pack trying to get the swelling down and it’s bearing results but there’s still much progress to be made.
I’m getting the remaining 30 or so stitches taken out of my face this afternoon which I’m looking forward to because it means I’ll be able to finally shave.
I had a great number of family and friends visiting during my stay in hospital and every one of them had a positive affect. My girlfriend Kristin spent the most time beside my bed and has been a glorious shining light through this ordeal. She’s been with me every day, sometimes for marathon shifts of time, taking care of my every wish and need. I couldn’t have asked for more, I’m deeply thankful to have her and owe her a great deal.
As for exactly what happened I’m still not sure. The policeman taking the case has since taken leave and won’t be back until next Wednesday when I’ll hopefully be able to call and find out some solid details. Soon after the accident I do remember a woman visiting me in hospital and breathlessly telling me she was there, saw what happened, called the ambulance and diverted traffic before rushing off. I was only capable of thanking her but wish I’d at least taken some contact information, I’d like to talk to her now. There’s a chance that the whole interaction is a figment of my imagination.
During my stay I met many victims of motorcycle accidents who despite wearing thousands of dollars worth of safety equipment had been totally mangled at low speed. How I was able to keep the overall damage to my body so minimal blows my mind. I was wearing lyrca yet outside of my face and few broken bones in my back, there’s barely a scratch on my body. Kristin tells me there’s not a single scratch on my helmet.
I don’t know the state of my bike, it remains in the police warehouse. I was wearing my best riding gear which was completely cut off by paramedics. My iPhone, which was sitting in my back jersey pocket, is totally unharmed. I’m assured that the accident was not my fault and that I should be fully reimbursed for the cost of my bike and gear but I greatly fear the rigmarole of getting lawyers involved.
The only other patients I met in hospital were victims of road accident. I knew the roads were dangerous but It was frightening first hand evidence of just how incredibly dangerous they really are. That said, I’m not giving up cycling and I’m looking forward to getting back out there with better safety equipment. I’ve been meaning to join a team for a long time and now, once I’m 100% mobile again, is the perfect time. A single cyclist is difficult to see a group is impossible to miss.
The accident means I’ve had to pull out of the Yeppoon Half Ironman I was training to compete in next month. They’ve graciously refunded my entry fees. I’m bitterly disappointed to miss out but don’t want to let this get in the way of my goal to compete at the Australian Ironman next year. I’m unbelievably lucky that I did so little damage to myself in the grand scheme of things, I have to take advantage of that and bounce back stronger than ever.
Being a cyclist myself I must say I am - speechless. This photo looks terrible and I suppose you’re very lucky not being killed by the car.
I admire your urge to get back on the bike as soon as possible. That’s what it probably takes to make the Australian Ironman. Get well!
