Life as a love gangster

This is a bit of  along blog this week. I have a lot on my mind and I’m just working through it all by writing, so if you still want to read then do so at your own behest.

Pain and Heartbreak

The pain I feel from my symptoms is nothing like what I feel inside, I cannot be physically hurt, in fact, I quite enjoy physical pain, it take my mind off what really hurts. Thats a scary prospect.

It does hurt to know she is already in a relationship with someone else, after everything we’ve been through together, how much we loved each other (well, before I was different on her part) after less than a year. Although I suppose I can’t really blame her.

After everything I’ve been through this  hurts the most. I love(d) her more than anything from the very start, it took me well over a year to even get her to be my gf! I guess although we separated I always kept a hope to myself privately that perhaps ONE day things might be different. I ne thatver told her this as I didn’t want to sound like I was stringing her along, but there was never any certainty that it would have anyway. She would always say it would, but being black and white, I told her otherwise.

 

He is everything I used to be, that’s just plain bad luck for me. It’s like an almighty kick to in my balls, every attempt that was made at trying to mould me into something I wasn’t was in the hope that I’d be like the old Mikey, or this new chap.

 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice bloke. She’ll get more from him than me, truly. And I am glad that I can’t upset or disappoint her anymore, that wasn’t a good feeling. When you love someone so much, every time you manage to hurt them it feels like a piece of you dies inside. She did love me once, just not for a while. That should be evidence that a brain injury could drive your loved one into another relationship within a year.

 

I am truly pleased that she’ll be happy, it’s just hard to express that right now. This was going to happen eventually anyway, I always knew it would hurt, Maybe it’s a dose of karma. Fair one. I deserve it, there I said it.

 

It’s even more horrible to hear that the only person you thought loved you ‘cannot have time for the brain injury anymore’, that is a killer. I always knew after she said that that one day I’d have to leave. Didn’t stop me form trying though.

 

The front I put on isn’t real. That’s because I believe no one could really handle the brain injury, the real me.

 

Solitude

I’ve felt lonely for a long while now. Part of this has been my own fault and in my hesitation to mix with other people, especially in big groups. It takes so much energy out of me, it’s so tiring and draining. When you’re alone you can’t hurt people, or become hurt yourself. Now I am paying the price for being so weak.

 

When all is said and done, her family and friends have all completely disowned me, with some of them even turning against me. People that; to my face, once pretended to be my friends. Fair one again, I don’t blame you. But there are two sides to every story.

 

What if?

Maybe I didn’t save her by throwing myself over her. Maybe I would have still got this injury if I’d have adopted the brace position, something I always said Id do in a situation like that.

 

No one asked for this, not Dani, my family, not Reese, but least of all me. My life is  ruined because of my condition. I tried to leave my marriage a year and a half ago for her sake, not mine, but I stayed because I loved her so much and wanted the best for Reese.

Maybe you’ll go running to her again after reading this, stirring up the pot and trying to generate as much BS as you can to dump on me. I couldn’t care less about what any of you decide, remember,  I don’t care what others think of me.

However being black and white it is important for me that the truth is known, not embellished facts used just to spurn people. You can unsubscribe from this blog now if there are any of you left still reading it, I won’t take it personally.

 

Amidst the pain a decision must still be made

Once again I’m at a crossroads. So much emotion makes it hard to decide which path to take. I’ve tried to do what’s best, but I’ve made mistakes along the way. I’ll live with this forever now.

 

Nursing with a brain injury

After days of feeling truly awful, stressed, devastated, disowned and guilty about this and everything I’ve lost, It hit me particularly hard one day at work last week. I became dizzy, hot, nauseous, extreme pounding in my head that felt worse than a migraine and I knew then I had to make a decision.

 

Do I go home? I can’t work like this surely. I’m emotionally distraught and exhausted.

 

But if I go, then everything HAS been taken and ruined. Everything has been lost, they have won. The bus driver, the mafioso, the two faced dickheads that tried to flog my parents a dodgy flight home in an air ambulance, the bus company, the travel agent (who I can’t name yet. YET.) will have won. Thats what it would feel like. 

 

Dyhdrocodeine, paracetamol and aspirin (which speeds up the effects of D-codiene) with a can of red bull. 4 portions of cottage pie to increase glucose stores, 2 pints of water to get the nutrients to my organs.

Sitting in the toilet; clutching my medication and can of red bull, while I tried to get my head straight, I decided nothing can stop me. I would rather DIE than fail at it now. I would rather not be here living this existence and putting up with all this pain and misery knowing that I have failed too become a nurse. It’s all I have left to try and accomplish. I’ve failed at everything else. Just count my friends and see for yourself.

I finished my shift and performed better than most days I’ve worked. Because I said I would finish this course at any cost, I decided I will do whatever it takes. I will put myself through anything. Even if it meant coming close to death, I will do it.

You have to be a bit loopy to put yourself through this, putting your body through it all when it’s screaming at you to stop. Thats when I realised I AM insane when it comes to chasing this and god help any of you who stand in my way.

I’ve lost everything now anyway. Even Reese will one day have a new and improved daddy who isn’t ill, who people don’t talk about being his back. Who doesn’t make mummy cry.

 

 

 

Never trust a man who has nothing to lose.  

Everyone has turned their back on me, I feel pain. 
People don’t realise there is two sides to a story, I feel pain. 
Not a single person besides my parents want to understand, this is pain.
I can’t explain myself to anyone, this hurts.
It’s too easy to dislike BI symptoms, more pain. 
I’m black and white, that’s difficult.
Time to realise it’s all gone now, I need this.
I must feel strength entirely on my own while I build my life, this is important. 
Everyone stabs me in the back eventually, I must trust anyone, this is realisation. 
There is more pain and fire in my belly than I’ve ever felt, I can use this. 
Knowing that only death will stop me, is because I’m stubborn. 
Not brave or righteous, just black and white. 
There’s more to this than you realise, this is lonely.
Only Reese is still here, should I prepare myself? 
I don’t care about the money anymore, I need this blog. 
I’m grateful for what I have, this is positivity.
I want to help children and save them, this is passion.
I will do whatever it takes to get there, this is dedication. 

I won’t ever lay down, this is just plane fucking stubborn. 

He’ll get to spend more time with Reese than me, that hurts.

Associating feelings that you promised were not there yet, that hurts.

Knowing that I was never good enough, that hurts.

Time after time people kept leaving my life, that hurts.

Floating through life in an unsociable and painful bubble, that hurts.

Feeling more alone than anyone could ever understand or imagine, that hurts.

Your words reaching people’s hearts but falling on deaf ears, that hurts.

Losing so much you were able to give to others before, that hurts.

Leaving destruction and disappointment in your path to those that you love, that hurts.

Feeling nothing for anything and experiencing true emotionless, that hurts.

Being severely misunderstood and represented erroneously, that hurts.

Wanting to be connected and experience meaning but being unable to, that hurts.

Acting in ways you don’t mean or ever want to, that hurts.

 

 

I’ve been stabbed in the back too many times to mention,

By those who I loved and those I really did not,

There’s no point in placing any blame trying to figure it out,

Brain injury is everything awful tied up in a knot.

 

I often sail along pretending I don’t have one,

Fighting to beat the odds and win,

Which I can keep up for a while but in the end,

Insincerity with yourself just turns you to the gin!

 

Was any of it ever real, or was it just the novelty that brought attraction to everyone?

A change of personality invisible to others there certainly is no one to blame,

But when all is said and done if I can achieve what I wanted to,

For the right reasons will anyone ever remember my name?

 

Regardless of what I’m trying to do, there is nothing that can bring peace to me,

Will justice be achieved for my troubles if I am awarded ‘compensation’ or a vast sum?

It may seem so for others but will my brain not be the same,

I will still have haemorrhages and haematomas so would justice really have been done?

 

It makes no difference if I drive a Bentley or a Corsa my brain will still be the same,

Invisible to others for the rest of my life,

But one thing I do have is a name.

 

A name for the man who brought my life crashing down,

We use words like ‘accident’ but perhaps he really knew,

This happened because of all the ugliness in the world,

The ‘accident’ was one in a long line that were not false but true.

 

I’m so tired of how ugly people are to each other,

I feel drained like I carry it around with me everyday,

Perhaps too much introspection for someone who’s never fit in,

Moving forward all I can do is to hope and pray.

 

Besides my parents there is no one who comes close to wanting to understand me,

Misunderstood and pushed away for years all I’ve wanted to do is sprout wings and away I would fly,

Because even though I put on a false front to you all,

The only true feeling I have is that I’ve been left out to dry.

 

My tattoos cover up the pain that my scars hold,

Is it too much to ask to be happy and free?

Obstacles keep appearing in front of me just as I pick up momentum,

I’m just trying to be what I once felt destined to be.

 

It won’t last long after all I’m a realist I’m not that stupid,

I know in my heart I can do it I could put my life on it and I could swear,

That nothing can stop me it’s all I have left,

Even if I know that it was never really there.

 

I have a dream where I’m watching the pain slowly fill up a once beautiful stream,

It hasn’t stopped filling for years,

Just like the nightmares that fill my dreams.

 

I thought isolation was a blessing at first, but it’s actually a terrible curse,

You slowly begin to lose yourself in a torrent of misrepresentation and grief,

They may have once loved you or think they still do,

But whilst hidden from view you know in their hearts they are experiencing some relief.

 

So now there are others more worthy and it’s time for me to pass over the baton,

This is a race that I’ve lagged too far behind to ever be won,

I’ve already lost – money or no money,

It’s true that now everything I ever wanted is fully gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s amazing to think I’ll soon be finishing my fourth nursing placement. I can’t say I’m too happy about it, it really has been one of the best 8 weeks I’ve had.

To most that will definitely sound like an OTT comment. However, those people who think that either

A) Don’t know about me

Or

B) Have the sensitivity and intelligence of a teabag.

 

When I woke up from my coma four years ago I began a journey. It’s been a torrid journey, as many of you know, I took the scenic route through hell and back, but the scariest part of it all for me was not knowing whether or not I could fulfil my ‘dream’/’ambition’ to become a qualified nurse.

After 8 short weeks I now have the answer to this problem that has plagued me and kept me up more nights than I care to count. Or remember. I have a shit memory.

It is so hard doing this job when you have a broken brain. I won’t lie or sugar coat it, it certainly hasn’t been a walk in the metaphorical park. This is because I

A) Refuse to pretend that being a nurse with a severe brain injury is easy, or that I finished my shift disappearing into the sunset.

And

B) I do not take walks in the park. I have a beach at the end of my road.

But I can tell you this. There has not been one shift where I actually wanted to go home. The intense rush I get just through being amidst a busy nursing ward; being part of a team, doing jobs that statistically I shouldn’t be able to do and experiencing what it’s like to really make a difference to children that really need help, is monumental.

I am so happy being a nurse, or learning to be a nurse. I love it so much, I could not do anything else. This is why I’ve held on to it for so many despairing years.

If I died tomorrow, I know that I’ve already achieved what I really wanted to.

After all these years of pain and misery I have proven to myself that I can stand by what I believe in and continue to chase my dream as fiercely as a fatty chases a hamburger tied to a string.

90% of people who suffer a severe brain injury remain in a persistent vegetative state. 

80% do not return to employment 

I remember lying in bed when I was back in England on the brain injury ward at Poole hospital. There was a knock at my door and a ‘nurse’ came in.

I know your nursing means a lot to you, I admire you for that. You’ve already beaten the odds by surviving your horrific accident, but maybe you should consider another profession now.

I was working on shift yesterday on a different ward as they were short staffed, when I experienced my first big flashback. It had been 5 weeks without one so I am pretty happy with these odds.

I was helping a young lad take his arm out of a cast while he was in bed. I opened the cast and a very noxious and intense fragrance attacked my olfactory centre, a mixture of antiseptic and plastic. I was instantly drawn back here –

2012

‘RAPIDO RAPIDO’ 

Put the fucking suction catheter back in you stupid woman, I can’t breathe.  

Secretions were obstructing my airway at this point.

She rammed it so far in I gagged. My SATS were in the 80s and I was starting to drift off. The pain was fucking outrageous. Then I stopped breathing.

‘POR FAVOR POR FAVOR’ 

Another awful smelling man in a white coat, who obviously has misplaced his soap at home, was trying to ram something down my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk. I was paralysed.

‘RAPIDO’

I was going to die. Oh well at least my last few weeks I enjoyed some decent grub and booze at the hotel. I prepared myself. I actually remember preparing myself to die, it was pretty depressing. I couldn’t move or talk, my brain was haemorrhaging all over and I had a GCS of 6, but I was conscious in my head. This is what hell feels like.

‘Gracias’ 

He’d put the tube down my throat. I could breathe. I would later read from my medical notes provided for my legal case that I had been resuscitated and intubated at this point.

‘You okay Mikey?’ 

I looked up. My mentor was standing next to the bed.

“All good. I’ve got this cast off so when his TTOS come up from pharmacy this chap can go home! Then I’ll complete some OBS in our bay.  I tested the urine sample – it was negative except some blood was present. Patient D’s vital signs were fine, will take another set in an hour before we go back.Then time for tea and a donut’.

Sometimes you have to journey through hell to get to heaven. For me I’m at my happiest doing this job.

And so the journey continues…

97% of people who have a severe brain injury are in a persistent vegetative state. 

 

You open the pantry door that leads into the ward staff kitchen. You get some water on board because you know things are about to get hectic, and hydration is the cornerstone for good health and increasing your chances of actually feeling normal.

 

You step outside the kitchen. A doctor hurries over to you.

 

‘Mikey, make sure patient B has gaviscon as soon as possible’

‘Ok mate’

Your mentor is nowhere to be seen, so you go to make a note of it on a bit of scrap paper in your pocket. But as you reach down to feel for the paper, you’re confronted by the parent of a patient.

‘Where are the toilets?’ You scrabble around in your brain to find the answer. You’ve forgotten. So you go looking for a member of staff and return to tell the parent.

You  get back to the paper work that is required to discharge another patient of yours. The mother is anxious to get out ASAP as her train leaves in an hour.

You’re standing by the nurse’s station and filling out the paper work. You feel a sharp pang in the left side of your head near your temples. You ignore it; pushing through the pain, knowing you need to get the paperwork done before the parent and her child misses the train. I can rest later, I’m due a break in a few hours.

In a normal situation you would be eating and drinking by now, or lying down in a dark room, meditating, because you can feel your dizziness approaching thick and fast, like a fatty to an ice cream stall thats just reopened after the winter break.

You glance up at the clock, a drop of sweat runs down your forehead. Your knocked about brain means you’re sweating enough to quench the whole of India’s thirst.

You realise you’ve left your stethoscope in with the patient you’re about to discharge; so, finishing the paperwork, you go in to retrieve it and do a quick set of jobs before sending them on their merry way.

You find the stethoscope. As you do the child’s OBS; the mother is asking questions about how to get out the hospital, you try and think as you scrawl the words down on the chart, but it feels like your brain is pulling along a concorde jet or wading through a thick and muddy swamp.

You forget your words. You use different words to replace the ones you can’t find to make your point. You sound a but unprofessional, you sweat a bit more at the thought of this. You struggle through and finish your job, sending them home in a blaze of glory.

Am I forgetting something? It’s 3′ O’clock. Fuck, the gaviscon. I forgot to write it down!

You rush to find your mentor, who’s also trying desperately to keep up with the demands of the ward. You tell her about the gaviscon and move on to the next job.

You smile at yourself as you crack a quick joke to yourself on the way at the thought of Gaviscon. It was about your friend, Gary, you had who recently died from taking an overdose of heartburn medication. You can’t believe Gaviscon.

 

The next job involves admitting a patient who’s been waiting a while. As you take longer to gather the relevant documents you start to feel sick.

 

You must have been dizzy when discharging the other patient. But through four years of practice you learned to ignore it and get on with the job at hand, this is why you’re now feeling sick.

 

You admit the patient and hurry to listen in with the doctor on your budesonide patient.

‘I can’t see where the gaviscon is’ the registrar says, glancing up at the others.

‘That’s cos he hasn’t had it. I handed it over to my mentor but she must have had her reasons for not doing it’. 

The doctor that asked me to give it to him looked at me with a start.

‘The patient has been asleep all afternoon and the ward’s busy’ I’d said bluntly.

 

Fin. 

 

This is a typical shift for nurses up and down the country. Before you can start one task they will be asked to do many more before their shift is finished, thats why we don’t often even get a lunch break. Except for me, I’m special.

 

I remember it being a lot easier when I didn’t have these problems. Sometimes it’s like I’m going in slow motion, I really need to be careful not to ignore too many of my symptoms. The truth is, I’ve exceeded all expectations to be here and I work hard every day to improve on my difficulties.

Nursing is all about covering your back and keeping your mouth shut. But I must be honest about being a nurse with a brain injury, because how the hell will anyone else ever think it possible if no one ever writers about it.

 

The truth is; that when it comes down to it, that split second decision you have to make where you don’t even have time to think, I know that my passion, dedication and love for this job will mean I can defy having suffered a severe brain injury and go a good job. My record speaks for that. I’m shit at DIY, I get lost all the time, in the car or walking about, I do and say dumb things, but thats because I’m just not bothered about much else other than nursing. Nothing else grabs my attention as much, I just don’t put the effort in.

 

Life is challenging with a brain injury. Days like this remind me of my symptoms and how they can slow me down. But it also reminds me that I have so much determination to be a nurse that I can manage them without it affecting my performance. 

 

You’re life can be limited with a brain injury. But if your’e lucky enough to have this determination and motivation for something you love, you might just get to experience what it’s like not having one, if only for a few extra seconds in your day.

I was told by a doctor a year ago that I would not get any better. Despite this I still tried every day to get better; using meditation, frequent visits to the gym, challenging myself n any way I can, pushing myself, resting often, adopting a buddha state of mind etc.

I have probably recovered more over this past year despite that doctor’s prognosis, purely because I wanted to. Never stop believing in yourself, whoever you are and whatever your goal is. 

 

 

“You know,’ Ross, my neuro-psychotherapist started ‘people can go two ways after a severe brain injury. They either go down the road of letting it win, which includes a life of misery and what you see as failure day in and day out, being prisoner to your symptoms and not allowing yourself to be happy. Or if you’re strong enough, it could make you a better person’. 

 

Alright dickhead. I remember thinking to myself. Granted; this was when I was struggling with life a bit, at the time I remember thinking yeah alright. Let me avoid a criminal record and find somewhere to live first and then maybe we can talk about this sort of nonsense. 

 

Today was my first day of my 4th nursing placement at Southampton General. Today was another day I believe to have been witness to something quite miraculous.

 

Today I have felt like me for the first time in four years. I mean the ‘real’ me, not the ‘old’ me. I felt no anxiety today. I felt so confident in what I was doing, like I used to before Mexico. any worry of symptoms I pushed away, my daily meditation means I am becoming quite adept at this. I felt like I was just as good as I was back then, perhaps maybe even a little bit better. My outrageous remarks seem to get a good reaction from kids, something I would never have seen prior to my injury.

 

Today has taught me that if I can hold on for dear life over the past four years and finally reach a point like where I am at now, then anyone can do it.

Today was a victory. For the first time I’m happy with what I see in the mirror and what I’ve experienced over the past four years has only ended up enabling this. 

However, what happened at the end of my shift really was food for thought.

 

I had finished my shift and after I visited another child of a friend who had just had heart surgery; I popped into the lift, had a casual conversation with an old dear and her granddaughter about how lovely the weather is, and how much David Cameron is a nob, and then made my way to the entrance.

As I was passing Costa I saw a group of people quickly stand up and start shouting. There were about 5 or 6 of this family, with a young boy and another little girl who was about 10. The boy was very young; maybe 10/11, but what happened next meant that I wasn’t really able to stop and ask.

He appeared to be choking on something and was unable to breathe. As his father tried frantically to get whatever it was lodged in his throat out the boy started gagging and gasping, trying to get his breath, unsuccessfully.

Call it intuition, but my 18 months medical training and 8 years of HCA experience got my spidey sense tingling. Something’s up here, I thought.

So I put my bag down and rushed over to the boy.

“Don’t worry mum a doctor is here!’ The little girl shouted.

‘I’m not a doctor, but I’ll have a go. And make it a double espresso to go please’ I shouted over to the costa staff, who were standing there like right lemons with their jaws mopping the floor. 

Ok, so I was joking about the last bit. But I did say I wasn’t a doctor. And the costa staff were just gawping like they’d just seen George Osbourne pay for something.

 

I pulled out one of the chairs and picked up the lucky lad and put him over my lap. I knew what the right procedure was, I always make sure I know the latest resuscitation and choking guidelines for such an occasion as this.

After I nearly broke his back and all the blood rushed to his face from being half upside down, out popped a great big whole worther’s original sweet.

“Lovely stuff mate! Is that for me?’ I joked.

He didn’t appreciate the joke. He was probably still sore at me for nearly braking his back the poor sod, I didn’t hold back with my strength. I reckon most adults would be moody if a 16 stone bloke had thrust them over their lap and whacked them 5 times.

 

 

It’s spelled werther, I’m not going back and changing the spelling though so live with it.

 

Another problem with having a brain injury is that when things happen; in the moment that it’s happening, my brain doesn’t make much sense of it. It’s very black and white, e.g. This boy is choking to death. Save him. That’s it. No other thoughts of what if he dies? Am I qualified for this? What if I forget because of my BI? What’s the right thing to do? My pulse rate didn’t even go up, not a single beat. It was like I was making a cup of tea, or lifting weights at the gym. It was normal and I knew, maybe Ross was on to something with his comment at the start of this blog.

Anyway, that isn’t the miraculous bit. After I left the ‘worther’s original sweets are only for old people you daft twats’ scene, Dani told me something over the phone that had my spine tingling for hours.

It hadn’t even occurred to me, I hadn’t even realised. 

For the first time ever I have returned to nursing as the real Mikey and achieved something I’ve fought tirelessly for 4 painstaking years.

Today is the 5th of April. Four years ago today I had my accident in Mexico and should have died, and nearly did.

Then again, maybe I wasn’t  meant to die. Because everything that has happened; good and bad since my brain injury, has led me to be right her right now. I’m exactly where I am supposed to be.

 

NB – 

I dont shave my armpits.

 

March 2010

How could people do these things to each other. I promise right now that if it’s the last thing I do I’m going to strive for helping to make a change somehow. I swear to you mum that one day every nurse n this country will know my name.

I was disgusted. I was watching a panorama special whereby an elderly residential home had been infiltrated by use of a secret camera, and the footage was disgraceful. I felt sick to my stomach and angrier than ever at how this was allowed to go on in our society in the 21st century.

April 5th 2012

This was the date of my accident, the day everything changed in my life.

May 2nd 2013

Alas, this was to be the worse day of my life. In front of Viv Bennett and Jayne Cummings I was due to give out an award, and they were looking forward to meeting me. Instead, I became too ill and anxious so was unable to do so. I watched the other editors take the stand; each greeted with an ear shattering round of applause, and my name wasn’t even mentioned.

January 2015

My mother in law tragically passes away.

April 2015

My grandma passes away.

May 2015

My marriage ends.

December 2015

I’m attacked and the police are called. Allegations based on malicious and libellous allegations that I am an aggressive monster are made.

February 2016

Fitness to practice. My ability to be a nurse is called into question and a decision must be made.

I was so sure that I was going to keep my promise to nursing. I felt it in my blood. It’s what I was born for. Maybe I was wrong.

  

 

Monday 21st March 2016

Today has been a good day. I met with my friend; Emma, who I met when I first started university before Mexico back in 2011. It turns out that Emma works right next door to the ward I’m due to start my fourth placement on next month, along with a few other people I had initially started uni with back in 2011. Emma said:

“Ellie and Emily work on the ward. They came to me really excited one day and told me that you were coming to work with us, they’re all so excited and the whole ward loves you already!” she’d said, which I thought was very sweet. Then she added:

“Mikey, Everywhere I go people seem to know you. I asked some first year students if they knew you and they all said that they did! People on the ward know you, a few other staff members said they’d heard of you. How come everyone seems to know you??’

‘Blowed if I know. They’ve probably heard of me for all the wrong reasons!’ I joked.

After our catch up I headed to the gym. While I was there, my brain was making sense of everything that had happened during the day so far (this is one of the main reasons I go to the gym).  As I felt the excruciating burn after my fourth shoulder set,  it hit me like a freight train. Or a ton of bricks. Or a women who’s husband just called her fat. You get the idea.

Everything that’s happened to me has lead me to be here. It IS happening. People DO know who I am, and every event that’s occurred has enabled that.

I only revealed my true intentions around what I wanted to achieve in my nursing career publicly for the first time a few blogs back. I’m sure some of you might have been thinking that it was an OTT proclamation,  unrealistic or it was just me romanticising my situation. Well like every other aspect of my life…

…not a single gram of fuck shall be given to that. 

I have never said ‘why me? why is this happening to me?’ I’m not into that. I am so lucky to be mobile or even alive, able to move my body, eat, drink, toilet, there are far more people who aren’t so lucky after the severity of injury I had.

I need to do what I have to do not only for the patients I all over the country who deserve the best care, or for Reese, or my family who have stuck by me so much that I have been able to survive all this, but also for the people that haven’t been so fortunate. We can achieve more than our prognosis tells us. In hospital, I was told maybe considering another career might not be a good idea.

To that prognosis a single game of ‘fuck’ added along with the word ‘that’ WAS given. 

I can’t give up this fight for so many reasons. But today I realised that there are even more reasons why I can’t.

SO I’m back in the briefing room and preparing for my next challenge. I’ve previously likened my life events to an meticulously planned SAS operation, which involves planning, preparation and more planning.

 

I’m doing everything I can that I think might help. I’m even humping 40kg of weights in my backpack around the park to boost my stamina and endurance! I did this in preparation  for my first ward placement. I may look an ugly sight sweating my tits off and gasping for breath like an asthmatic St Bernard to the old dears walking their dogs in the park but it has to be done.

 

Prior planning and preparation prevents piss poor performance

 

Sometimes being black and white is useful. When a big event comes up where the odds are stacked against me I know what I need to do to prepare and I never deviate from the plan.

Although I have been having some fun on Facebook recently trolling the teenagers and their trout pouting photos. This has brought me joy and is truly procrastination at its finest.

 

I am 100% focused on the objective. Again; adopting the SAS mantra of ‘don’t worry about how hard it will be, Don’t worry about how you’re going to get through it or how you will be feeling in the middle of it health wise. Just crack on and focus on the job at hand’.

 

This is standard operating procedure in my fight against operation brain injury. This mantra can be used in all areas of BI life. For example, being black and white I always tell people that if they have an issue or problem with me or my actions, rather than ignoring me or dropping me subtle hints I would always encourage anyone to simply talk to me and tell me they think I’m being a twat.

 

Alas, this does not happen.

I don’t mind if people don’t like me. Heck fire I’m lucky in that I don’t feel any emotion at all with regards to what other people think, which is a nice way to live. But it does make life a bit tricky for me when people do the opposite to what I suggested above. Fair enough though, we’re all only human.

I don’t think about what I’ve done to upset people, I don’t ponder and wonder and consequently drive myself mad like other people do, I just don’t care. I really have no thought about it whatsoever, it’s so easy to do this being black and white!

Embarrassment

I do not experience this emotion. Whatever I’ve said or done to cause myself ’embarrassment’ is done and cannot be changed, therefore I leave it at that. What’s the point in always worrying or deliberating on what you could have done. I just do not get embarrassed. And understanding other people do get embarrassed I have lots of fun.

Like getting down on one knee and proposing to a girl in  public with lots of people around. Then I run away pretending to cry while they stand there and face the crowds of onlookers.

Meditation is the number one tool for people to use in order to learn to not give a flying elephant about anything trivial. Experiencing your true emotion and acting within your true self is all that matters. Half of us act in emotion, caused by things going on around us.

I cannot believe I’m 20 months into my nurse training. I am so grateful to have got this far; it really is a miracle, especially with all the external influences I’ve had in recent years. I am so excited to become a nurse and I am more focused than I’ve been in my entire life.

Focused on the job at hand. Fuck everything else, it’s not important. 

I’ve broken away from being ‘the patient’ and I’m determined not to ever go back there let me tell you. Instead I want to be the person who cares for ‘the patient’. Always have been. Never bought in to being a victim, I’m just not into it. It doesn’t make me tick, like it does for some people.

Fortitudo

– Courage, strength.

I know I will need to push myself to my limit again come next month. I know that I’ll need to dig a bit deeper and draw on my reserves, and that my health with suffer from it. But I also know that I can hide this form people and fool everyone (including myself) into thinking there is nothing wrong and by doing so, keeping my performance completely unaffected.

If you don’t feel confident or happy, I have a technique that works a treat. I pretend that I am feeling a certain emotion even if I’m not and in time I fool myself into truly believing it and that is what I become.

I believe anything is possible if it is wanted hard enough. Maybe that’s why I’m not dead or in a wheelchair.

Dedication. Motivation. Never stop.

COURAGE AND STRENGTH 

I opened the door that led into the dingy, dark and ironically unhygienic toilet situated inside Poole magistrates courts. I was dressed to impress, and after a quick wee I walked over to the cracked and dirty mirror. I looked at what was in front of me, directly in the eyes.

Thank you for giving me the strength to speak clearly today. Thank you for allowing my word finding issue to not cause me problems. I am where I’m meant to be, and I am grateful for that.

Living with a brain injury is expensive. What might seem like a good salary to some would be a pittance for me. The amount I need to spend on food; for example, or the amount of money I spend buying the same things over and over again because I keep losing them or leaving them somewhere (e.g. gym earphones. I have bought three pairs in a month. Not all that important but you get the gist). I spend over £400 a month on food alone. On my placement in Winchester I had ended up spending over 1K simply on food and petrol, I managed that in just 8 weeks.

Thank you for helping me prove to the panel I was fit to practice. Thank you for giving me the strength to get through this past month.

I was in Poole courts to appeal a decision to have my Disability Living Allowance (DLA) rejection overturned. For the second time that month, I was to face a panel of medical and legal professionals to prove my case. I had not been in to the tribunal yet.

The ironic thing is, I received the low rate DLA package for three years. Then they conveniently forgot to send me the renewal forms, meaning I had to reapply and was placed at the back of a two year waiting list (a well known government ploy to put people off the appeal process).

I walked out of the toilets and was accompanied to the room where I was to have the hearing.

I sat down and did what I could, speaking as clearly as my slow and swamp-like brain allowed. One thing I remember getting a good reaction from was this:

“I’m under no illusions. Although I would do anything to be a nurse, I’m also fully aware of the accountability pressure facing HCPs in the NHS today. I probably won’t be able to be a nurse for long before I slip up, but I just want to get there and I won’t stop until I do. Then I can cross that bridge when I come to it”.

They asked me about the night terrors. 

‘I remember being intubated. I remember being rescucitated and the CVP line falling out, it was painful. I remember being strapped down in a leer jet for 17 hours, I was so hot. I knew I was dying. I remember Mexican doctors standing at my bedside, their smell. I remember my parents and Dani by my bedside talking slowly to me, telling me I would pull through. I remember my dreams in the coma. I remember being cannulated 100 times and treated for sepsis, horrible medicine. I remember pulling my cannulas and NG tube out. I remember holding on to my mum’s hand in Mexico telling her ‘it hurts. It hurts’ and her saying ‘I know babe. But you’re in the best place’.  I remember conversations around me. I remember my dad’s hairy arms tickling my arms as he leant over, The smell of his cologne. I remember being locked in the dolphinarium and the trainer was torturing me. I remember it all. I thought I had died and gone to hell.

And to think it took 3 years for anyone to diagnose PTSD is fucking outrageous. 

Mexico 2012, a few hours before the accident.

“Thank you Mr Whitehead. Have a seat outside and we’ll call you back in a few minutes to tell you our decision”.

Financially, life has been extremely tough since my injury. My fatigue means that I am  only able to study part time and I can no longer work as well as study, something most students need to do to stay afloat. I haven’t had an income for four years!

After I had sat outside for a few minutes, the door opened and they called me back in.

“Mr Whitehead. We have taken into consideration your disability and the horrendous symptoms you’ve discussed and have decided to allow you to be on the enhanced DLA package. It will be backdated; so you will receiving around two years worth of money along with your weekly payments. Thank you and good luck, you deserve it’.

This doesn’t happen much for me, but they got it. They understood. 

I was scored 4 for mobility because I was able to walk 200 yards when my decision was first rejected. On this day I was scored 10, the maximum. Those of you still stupid enough to think mobility is only about our physical abilities like walking and wiping your arse need to unsubscribe from this blog.

1 week earlier to the very day, I was deemed fit to practice and cleared to carry on being a nurse. This was a very close call, but my attitude got me through it and I came out on top. So overall it’s been a damn good week.

For the first time since my accident, I am me again. I know what I need to do now. I know how to overcome the hardest challenges. I’ve survived every challenge life has thrown at me so far. It’s ‘the secret’the power of compassion and the law of attraction, and I know how to use it again. Gratitude and positivity day in and day out. 

The Buddha says that only love can dispel hate, so I made myself empathise with Paddy and Marie. I hope they are able to find peace, as I have done. 

I can’t imagine what life must have done to them to make them this way.  These tough lessons have taught me so much, and I am thankful to Paddy and Marie for being the way they are. Without their ugliness, I might not have found me again. 

Sometimes you have to go through hell to get to heaven. 

I get up in the morning and say thank you with every step to the toilet. I say thanks for such a great wee, which are always most pleasurable first thing in the morning.

I remember what it’s like to win again. Two big victories, the biggest in four years. After the torturous reality of nearly losing my job; being questioned by the police (also another close call. Had the witness said nothing I would not have been able to be a nurse, ever. Even being accused of assault is enough to get you binned) and now after two years of not giving up this fight I have won here today.

If there is one message brain injury survivors and their relatives can take from this blog, it’s this:

Regardless of how bad your situation is; how little hope there appears to be, no matter how much you have to lose I have found out how we can win. And this goes for anyone, brain injured or not. 

Don’t swear. Don’t get angry. Don’t ever do anything in anger. Take a deep breath, go and sit in silence for a few moments and then say out loud ‘THANK YOU’ and mean every word of it. When you’re grateful your whole persona changes, your attitude and outlook automatically become positive. Thereafter everything you do will be done in a positive light without malice or negativity, and you’ll attract only positive into your life.

Surely I’ve give you enough proof to show you it works? 

I’ll make mistakes still. I’ll make more piss poor choices than most, sure. But one thing is for certain:

I know how to deal with life again. And I can get through anything. 

I opened the door that led into the dingy, dark and ironically unhygienic toilet situated inside Poole magistrates courts. I was dressed to impress, and after a quick wee I walked over to the cracked and dirty mirror. I looked at what was in front of me, directly in the eyes.

 

Thank you for giving me the strength to speak clearly today. Thank you for allowing my word finding issue to not cause me problems. I am where I’m meant to be, and I am grateful for that.

 

 

Living with a brain injury is expensive. What might seem like a good salary to some would be a pittance for me. The amount I need to spend on food; for example, or the amount of money I spend buying the same things over and over again because I keep losing them or leaving them somewhere (e.g. gym earphones. I have bought three pairs in a month. Not all that important but you get the gist). I spend over £400 a month on food alone. On my placement in Winchester I had ended up spending over 1K simply on food and petrol, I managed that in just 8 weeks.

 

Thank you for helping me prove to the panel I was fit to practice. Thank you for giving me the strength to get through this past month.

 

I was in Poole courts to appeal a decision to have my Disability Living Allowance (DLA) rejection overturned. For the second time that month, I was to face a panel of medical and legal professionals to prove my case. I had not been in to the tribunal yet.

The ironic thing is, I received the low rate DLA package for three years. Then they conveniently forgot to send me the renewal forms, meaning I had to reapply and was placed at the back of a two year waiting list (a well known government ploy to put people off the appeal process).

 

I walked out of the toilets and was accompanied to the room where I was to have the hearing.

 

 

I sat down and did what I could, speaking as clearly as my slow and swamp-like brain allowed. One thing I remember getting a good reaction from was this:

“I’m under no illusions. Although I would do anything to be a nurse, I’m also fully aware of the accountability pressure facing HCPs in the NHS today. I probably won’t be able to be a nurse for long before I slip up, but I just want to get there and I won’t stop until I do. Then I can cross that bridge when I come to it”.

They asked me about the night terrors. 

‘I remember being intubated. I remember being rescucitated and the CVP line falling out, it was painful. I remember being strapped down in a leer jet for 17 hours, I was so hot. I knew I was dying. I remember Mexican doctors standing at my bedside, their smell. I remember my parents and Dani by my bedside talking slowly to me, telling me I would pull through. I remember my dreams in the coma. I remember being cannulated 100 times and treated for sepsis, horrible medicine. I remember pulling my cannulas and NG tube out. I remember holding on to my mum’s hand in Mexico telling her ‘it hurts. It hurts’ and her saying ‘I know babe. But you’re in the best place’.  I remember conversations around me. I remember my dad’s hairy arms tickling my arms as he leant over, The smell of his cologne. I remember being locked in the dolphinarium and the trainer was torturing me. I remember it all. I thought I had died and gone to hell.

 

And to think it took 3 years for anyone to diagnose PTSD is fucking outrageous. 

Mexico 2012, a few hours before the accident.

 

 

 

 

 

“Thank you Mr Whitehead. Have a seat outside and we’ll call you back in a few minutes to tell you our decision”.

Financially, life has been extremely tough since my injury. My fatigue means that I am  only able to study part time and I can no longer work as well as study, something most students need to do to stay afloat. I haven’t had an income for four years!

 

After I had sat outside for a few minutes, the door opened and they called me back in.

“Mr Whitehead. We have taken into consideration your disability and the horrendous symptoms you’ve discussed and have decided to allow you to be on the enhanced DLA package. It will be backdated; so you will receiving around two years worth of money along with your weekly payments. Thank you and good luck, you deserve it’.

This doesn’t happen much for me, but they got it. They understood. 

I was scored 4 for mobility because I was able to walk 200 yards when my decision was first rejected. On this day I was scored 10, the maximum. Those of you still stupid enough to think mobility is only about our physical abilities like walking and wiping your arse need to unsubscribe from this blog.

 

1 week earlier to the very day, I was deemed fit to practice and cleared to carry on being a nurse. This was a very close call, but my attitude got me through it and I came out on top. So overall it’s been a damn good week.

For the first time since my accident, I am me again. I know what I need to do now. I know how to overcome the hardest challenges. I’ve survived every challenge life has thrown at me so far. It’s ‘the secret’the power of compassion and the law of attraction, and I know how to use it again. Gratitude and positivity day in and day out.

The Buddha says that only love can dispel hate, so I made myself empathise with Paddy and Marie. I hope they are able to find peace, as I have done.

I can’t imagine what life must have done to them to make them this way.  These tough lessons have taught me so much, and I am thankful to Paddy and Marie for being the way they are. Without their ugliness, I might not have found me again.

Sometimes you have to go through hell to get to heaven. 

 

I get up in the morning and say thank you with every step to the toilet. I say thanks for such a great wee, which are always most pleasurable first thing in the morning.

 

 

I remember what it’s like to win again. Two big victories, the biggest in four years. After the torturous reality of nearly losing my job; being questioned by the police (also another close call. Had the witness said nothing I would not have been able to be a nurse, ever. Even being accused of assault is enough to get you binned) and now after two years of not giving up this fight I have won here today.

 

 

If there is one message brain injury survivors and their relatives can take from this blog, it’s this:

 

Regardless of how bad your situation is; how little hope there appears to be, no matter how much you have to lose I have found out how we can win. And this goes for anyone, brain injured or not. 

 

Don’t swear. Don’t get angry. Don’t ever do anything in anger. Take a deep breath, go and sit in silence for a few moments and then say out loud ‘THANK YOU’ and mean every word of it. When you’re grateful your whole persona changes, your attitude and outlook automatically become positive. Thereafter everything you do will be done in a positive light without malice or negativity, and you’ll attract only positive into your life.

 

 

Surely I’ve give you enough proof to show you it works? 

 

 

 

 

I’ll make mistakes still. I’ll make more piss poor choices than most, sure. But one thing is for certain:

I know how to deal with life again. And I can get through anything.