So, my life had been ticking over without too much drama. The bills being paid and still in work. Not much money to spare for going out to gigs or anywhere else. Disposable income - what's that? Playing a few gigs to keep my hand in, and several more booked before the end of the year. Like I said, ticking over nicely. Well maybe not nicely exactly, but things could be worse.
Thursday morning. September 21st. It's 7.55 in the morning and I'm heading up the Great North Road on my way to work. It's not too cold for the time of year and it's dry. The bike is running well and the weekend isn't too far away. A minute later I'm lying in the road. My bike is lying next to me - judging from the sounds I've just heard it's in more pieces than it was a minute ago. Unfortunately, I'm in no position to be able to look for myself although I have an excellent view of the blue sky and clouds overhead A small crowd gathers around me - including the driver of the BMW who pulled out in front of me and who's car I just T-boned. She's in a bit of a state of shock, but fortunately uninjured. I lie there propped up on my elbow. Getting up doesn't seem a particularly good idea, although I'm not in any pain. However, I am concious that my guts have taken a bit of a battering as they slammed into the petrol tank and I feel a bit stiff and odd in that area so internal injuries are a possibility... I get tired of propping myself up and decide I'd be more comfortable lying down and awaiting developments...
In due course the 'developments' include paramedics cutting most of my clothes off as I lie in the road - although fortunately I manage to dissuade them them cutting off my old weathered and treasured motorcycle jacket before scraping me off the road and shovelling me into the back of an ambulance. The paramedics were very good and soon had me on a drip and comfortable in the back of their motor - well as comfortable as you can be lashed to a stretcher with your head in a brace to stop you looking to either side - which also stopped be being able to look at what state my bike was in while I was lying next to it.
The police arrive and take charge of the situation, take details, and direct traffic around me and the other wreckage. Naturally I get breathalysed - it's routine in all Road Traffic Accidents. I'm not bothered and inform them that I only had a single bottle of beer last night before going to bed - so I'm expecting a very low alcohol count. It's not just low - it's zero. I express surprise at the 'zero' count, but a paramedic says after one pint it would normally be zero after only an hour anyway. "Don't tell him that!" says the copper! I don't drink & drive/ride so it makes no difference to me anyway.
I could feel blood trickling inside my moto-cross boots before they took them off - they even cut my socks off! Fortunately, the very heavy duty boots did their job and my feet and ankles seem fine. However, I'm told my left wrist looks like it might be broken. Asked if I want any 'pain relief'? I think 'Yes, I'm definitely up for some of that'. But instead of the hoped for morphine they stick a tube of my mouth and pump gas into me instead. The paramedic said my wrist might be broken 'cos it's at a 'funny angle' - but I'm not laughing. Maybe this is why they decide to pump me full of laughing gas? It has absolutely no effect. I inform them of this and they crank it up a bit, and then a bit more What hospital are they going to take me to? Potters Bar General has been closed and is now a Tesco. The QE2 in Welwyn Garden City has also been closed. Watford is mentioned - I'm not keen on ending up that far from home, and I definitely don't want to go to The Lister as I've heard bad reports first hand about the quality of care received there. Fortunately, they decide to take me to Barnet General - which I have mixed feelings about as my mother died in there - but to be fair the place has been completely rebuilt since those days and is effectively a different hospital now.
By the time we arrive at the hospital the nitrous oxide is still doing nothing for me - on inspection it is discovered that the cylinder is now empty. I am wheeled into A&E on a stretcher and again asked if want any 'pain relief'? Fearing the shock and adrenaline may wear off at any time and real pain might kick in without warning I say 'Yes please'. Finally, they give me actual morphine. That has no effect either. I tell them it's not working and they give me more. And again. Finally, they say they have given me as much morphine as they dare.
So, pumped full of morphine - which appears to be another drug I am immune to, I am wheeled about the hospital and given X-Rays. Lots of X-rays. And a full body CTR scan. And covered in ECG electrodes and wiring for no reason that I can see. It's confirmed I have a broken wrist. Fortunately multiple X-Rays on my knees show they are not broken, although both legs have been badly sliced open in the crash and both my shin bones are visible - a doctor spends quite some time sluicing the cuts out with saline before they get taped up. I try to work out exactly how these injuries to my legs happened as my motorcycle boots appeared undamaged. However, my jeans inside my boots had been sliced right open in the crash and were quite badly bloodstained before the paramedics cut my jeans off. Still, that's the least of my worries. Where's my bike? What happened to it? How badly damaged is it? Oh-yeah - I've got a broken wrist too.
By now I'm resigned to my fate. I won't be going to work today, or probably any time soon. I won't be going home today either. I feel helpless - I am lying on a stretcher and can't get up. I have absolutely no control over what is happening - I'm not used to this. I realise I'm going to have to get used to it - I have no choice. I'm told I need to have an operation to fix my broken wrist. Whatever...
Now I have time to think. A lot of time to think. And a lot to think about. A moment of inattention on the Great North Road earlier has put me in hospital, and off work for I don't know how long. I've probably lost my motorcycle - the best I've ever had by a long way. I may have become an ex-biker at 7.55 this morning - probably for good this time. Also, I'm supposed to be playing 3 gigs next month with 2 different bands - one gig is of particular importance to me personally. I know already that I won't be physically capable of playing any of them. I have no idea how long it will be before I am capable of playing the guitar again....
While I was in the ambulance being stabilised I had asked the police to inform my employers that I wouldn't be making it in to work this morning. This they did - creating a bit of drama when they turned up out of the blue! Consequently my manager arrived to see me later in the morning at the hospital. Seeing the state I was in lying on the stretcher with a broken wrist and my legs covered in dressings at least he could pass the message back that I wasn't swinging the lead and wouldn't be back for some time....
Much hanging around ensues for me: lying about on a stretcher - being wheeled to various parts of the hospital. After loads of X-Rays and a scan my wrist is plastered up and I await my fate. I am told they will probably send me home, and I will have to return for the operation on my wrist tomorrow. I am not keen on this plan. How am I supposed to manage at home on my own in this state? The sister in charge (who is very good and strikes me someone who genuinely deeply cares) says transport has been arranged to take me home. It's early evening by then. More hanging around ensues. Shortly before I think I'm about to be shipped home I'm informed there has been a change of plan and I'm to be operated on straight away. This sounds much better to me! I can only assume that the sooner an operation takes place the better the outcome is likely to be. Bring it on...
I wake up three or four hours later in a hospital bed with my forearm/wrist in plaster and suspended in a sling - feeling much the same as I did before. I managed to grab something to eat - which was nice as it was around eleven at night and I'd had nothing to eat since my breakfast around 6.30 that morning. I'm pleased to find that in spite of my legs and various other bits being bashed about I can still make it to the toilet under my own steam.
The following morning the doctor came round and seemed happy with my progress - apparently the fracture to my wrist had been quite a bad one but the operation went well and I now have a metal plate holding my arm/wrist together. Probably for life. Could be worse - I still have an arm , and in spite of the deep lacerations I don't have two broken legs or any other injuries - apart from a lot of bruising in various places - most of which only starts to show up a few days later...
I am informed I'll be going home later that day. After I'm given the all clear to be discharged and various paperwork is taken care of. Meantime - more time to think. Much more. My surroundings are actually very pleasant - somehow I have ended up in a two bed ward, with the other bed unoccupied. Very nice and peaceful. The medical staff are very nice too - I am well looked after, and even the food is nice! I am very impressed with the 'new' state-of-the-art Barnet General Hospital - now totally unrecognisable from the place I knew before which consisted largely of wartime pre-fabs built to take care of the the overflow from London's other hospitals during the Blitz.
I had an appointment to give blood this afternoon - rather ironic in the circumstances. I guess enough leaked out of me yesterday - I wonder if I was given any, or did they just keep me topped up with a saline drip during the operation? As I'm getting good Wi-Fi lying in the hospital bed I try to go online to cancel my blood donor appointment, but without success.
Mid-afternoon and there is still no sign of me going home. Last night transport was being arranged to take me home, but today I am apparently expected to make my own way home. Maybe because last night I was in A&E they wanted to help me home as quickly as possible because they wanted the bed? Today there seems little urgency and the solitary other bed in the ward remains vacant all day. How am I expected to get home? The bus service is very good, but I don't have my Oyster card and the buses no longer take cash. Then I realise I have my credit/debit cards with me which will work on the bus instead. Also, I no longer have any clothes as the paramedics cut most of mine to ribbons yesterday! Last night in A&E the sister in charge said she could get me pyjamas and a dressing gown to borrow, but the sister in charge of the ward I find myself in today apparently can't do this. She asks me if I can get a friend to take me home? But it's Friday afternoon and everyone is out at work. Also, my phone doesn't work in the hospital for some reason - I can't make or receive calls or even texts - although bizarrely my phone is getting a good Wi-Fi signal and I can use the internet! I realise that probably the only person who can rescue me is my sister - who is also still at work but finishes fairly early on a Friday. But I can't phone her as my phone seems to be blocked or something by the hospital, so I have to get the nursing sister to phone her for me from the hospital phone....
So, after a fashion I manage to arrange for my sister to come and pick me up. Which involved her having to drive to the hospital, pay to park, pick up my keys, drive to my place and pack me some clothes, drive back to the hospital, and possibly get stung for parking a second time! When I expressed my concern about my sister having to pay twice for hospital parking in a short space of time the head nurse suggested I wait outside the hospital for my sister's arrival. I pointed out that I had no clothes to wear while standing outside in the cold for who know's how long? I asked if a dressing gown could be provided but was told that would not be possible, or even some slippers! It was suggested by the nurse that I could be lent an extra gown (I was only wearing one of the hospital backless lace up ones) and I could put that on over the other one - but the other way round. I was less than impressed by this idea. Fortunately my sister managed to park, get my keys from me, get some of my clothes, and get back to the hospital with no trouble and without having to pay two parking charges - thanks Sis!
I'd like to thank the paramedics who scraped me off the road, the police who attended the crash scene, and the staff at Barnet General Hospital who looked after me so well - they were all terrific!
So after my prang on Thursday morning I got home on Friday night with my arm in a sling, my wrist in plaster, and facing an interesting time figuring our how to do even the most basic things for myself - now the fun would really start....
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