Life as a love gangster

Each day after my accident, when the realisation was setting in that I couldn’t return to uni, people kept telling me “don’t worry your baby will be here in December, that will be a magical moment and something for you to focus on.”

Nope. It wasn’t. No offence Reese.

Then after that, people told me the following year would ‘be my year’ ……..

Low and behold it wasn’t. My symptoms worsened and Dani and I nearly divorced. 

And the bit in between was “don’t worry, you have the student nursing times awards to focus on. Giving out an award at a prestigious event with the head of nursing for the NHS will be amazing…

Nope. Drew a blank there, too

After a certain amount of time I told people to stop wishing my life away. The realisation occurred to me that it never stops. There will always be something major happening, life will always find a way to challenge you. I even used to say when I finally get back to uni after three years, there will be something else to worry about. I was starting to see that life doesn’t let up on you.

Uni starts. And as expected, life has another change for us all

Tomorrow my mother in law will be going in for surgery to remove part of her brain tumour, which sits in the medulla oblongata, her brain stem.

My advice to anyone is not to keep hoping for the day life settles down and is finished with you, finished giving you and your family challenges, because sure as I’m loony it won’t happen. Don’t keep waiting for things to ‘settle down’ because you’ll waste years of your life doing so. My answer? Well, it worked for me anyway –

When in Cambridge, on my own sitting in my hotel room every night, my marriage in tatters, 7 weeks since I’d seen Reese etc you get the picture; it was torrid to say the least, I made myself find brief happiness. I focused on what was good right now, small things.

Like the fact I enjoyed watching Louis Theroux documentaries on my laptop. every dinner I would sit down and savour the state in the moment so I was living in the now – I love curry so I ate it pretty much every night. I worked out, that made made happy. I listened to Maino, that makes me happy. I looked at photos of Reese, I looked after myself, I enjoyed the occasional gin feast, I was jovial with everyone I encountered. I lived in the now.

Albeit true, my relationships were falling to the ground all around me. My mother in law and I aren’t nearly as close as we used to be, following a misunderstanding attributed to the joys of brain injury. I was leaving Dani and Reese. No one understood me and I was the black sheep. Everyone knew I had a fierce temper, it can pop like a balloon. I don’t want to be the black sheep and known to screw everything up, I wanted to make my family proud and I loved them all. I even ended up having a misunderstanding with my B and B land lady, who took me in from the start of my Cambridge adventure. they treated me as one of their own, but the dispute meant I turned my back on them and stayed in a cold and dark travel lodge for my time there instead. C’est La Vie.

But by finding small solace in these everyday things helped me get through it. I focused on Hustling Hard and having the soul of a lion, because that’s all I had left. My belief.

Even now

I remind people that after this surgery, there will be something else that will crop up; that’s life.

It will all be ok

No it won’t. but you have to make it ok by getting your head round things, accepting it and moving on. Get past the rubbish thats happening in your life, and be audacious enough to still be happy. Only then can you ever truly experience peace. You can’t just sit around waiting for life to let you be happy. Sod that. Just be happy now, whatever is going on. As Ralph Waldo Emerson says;

Find Peace Within The Storm

My thoughts and mind will of course be with my mother in law tomorrow. She has displayed the courage and soul of a lion by focusing on what is important in the here and now. She has got past the waiting period (which has to be the worse time in my opinion) and now she is ready for the surgery.

Julie has shown the grit and determination that will get her through this surgery and recovery. She has done as well as anyone ever could and I have no doubt in my mind that she will fight it and win.

That’s what we do in my family. 

Whether she understands or recognises the term or not; she has Hustled Hard. Maybe I’ll buy her a hustle hard hat…then again, maybe not.

I’ll finish this blog with a line from one of my favourite poems, Desiderata, which happens to hang on the wall in my mother in law’s toilet;

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

It’s just a series of events that happen and life is not biased in what it gives you. It’s not personal. It’s just seeing if you’re good enough. 

Here I am writing my first blog post of 2015.. I’ve got a big year coming up too; placement one, my big science exam on the 16th, really making a name for myself at Julia’s House.. it feels good to feel genuinely excited for the first time in years at the prospects of the year ahead!

As I’ve mentioned on Facebook, I’ll be based as a health visitor in New Milton for my first placement and I’m really looking forward to it. It will be the first time I’ve been in a place of work as an employee (or as a student, which is learning how to be an employee) other than volunteering. It will be very interesting to see how my fatigue copes with full time work – yes that’s right, full time work!

It’s interesting that something like 80-90% of people with a severe brain injury never return to employment. My tutor gave me the option of working part time, but I’ve never been one to say “I can’t” do something unless I’ve at least given it a try.

In fact, “I can’t” isn’t even in my vocabulary to be honest! Besides, I love nursing and I really believe if you try hard enough you can achieve anything. Obviously this depends entirely o the person, I know that someone who is paralysed won’t necessarilyy be able to run a marathon, for example.

But I’m not paralysed

So there is nothing I won’t try. I owe it to the majority of survivors who don’t make as good a recovery as me, the ones who wish they could do more but their body simply doesn’t let them. Anyway, if I was paralysed, I would probably find another way to do the marathon just to give fate the finger. Tally ho!

The studying

So if any of you out there are survivors and wondering how I’m getting on with the academic side, this little bit is for you. If not, read on, or put your phone down and get back to the ironing:

I am currently finishing an assignment and have a science exam this month. We didn’t have any lectures for the exam, so it has all been self taught from a 29 chapter book. The revising has been a lot easier than the essay writing, that’s for sure!

Essay Joy

Within a few minutes of starting my essay all the lines that I’ve typed on the keyboard merge into one. My head starts pounding and my eyes get hot. I get a feeling of butterflies flying around in my head which makes me feel sick. I start to get an intense zinging like motion that shoots right across the side of my head each time I move my eyeballs.

I get really dizzy and damage to my 4th cranial nerve means that I can alleviate these minor technical difficulties by tilting my head to the right slightly, although this only helps minimally. 

The miracle of science

If I try a practice paper for my science exam, within a few minutes of intense concentration the same thing happens. For these reasons I get extended time for my exam, plus extra breaks whenever I need them. The support at the university will play a big role in my attempt to get this degree, thank god for their great support.

But I’m not complaining. I’m used to discomfort and being in pain, at least when I’m going through it here I’m actually achieving something rather than simply existing. 

I’ll finish with this:

When training to be accepted into the SAS (special Air service) soldiers are pushed to their limits, both psychologically, mentally and physically. Very few pass and the selection process goes on for months at a time.

When they are being interrogated, pushed to their physical capabilities and tested mentally; some of the guys start to believe its personal. The army are trying to break them down, trying to make them fail. But the truth is; they’re not. It’s not personal, they are just seeing if you’re good enough.

This also can be applied to life. When you are given challenge after challenge and you suffering over and over again, things just don’t let up and your constantly given new obstacles without any form of a break, it doesn’t mean life hates you.

It doesn’t mean life wants you to fail.

It doesn’t want to see you hurt,

it doesn’t want you to give up. It’s not personal…

IT’S JUST SEEING IF YOU’RE GOOD ENOUGH

“Why isn’t she breathing?” Dani asked me.

It was a question that perhaps I would have come up with an answer for, had I not been 2 and a half days without sleep and been brain injured, fighting for my life and in a coma only 7 months before.

“Maybe she’s sleeping” I said stupidly. Then I did something I never do, I broke down with exhaustion. I turned my head to hide the tears rolling down my face from Dani, who was talking nonsense through the myriad of drugs flowing through her little system.

Then I heard an all too familiar and monotonous sound:

“Stand clear of the patient…BEEEP….NO RYTHM DETECTED.”

I’d been taught how to use this machine at university, it was only needed for when a baby/child is not breathing and they need resuscitating.

Then, the cool and collected Mikey who has worked for everything and survived lots of difficult challenges went into a meltdown

I had heard of a nervous breakdown, but never before thought it could possibly happen to me. I’m too collected and confident. Well, I was before I had a knock to the noggin! Turns out now I’m @!£$%$ useless. Weak.

I burst out of the operating theatre and found my parents in the waiting room.

“Alright” Said mum

I threw the chairs into the wall. I smashed the bedside table and knocked it over, punching the big wooden door aggressively. I was shouting and crying hysterically. The trauma from the accident..and now this. First I’m ventilated and have a machine breathing for me and now my newly born daughter is too. Jolly good year this is turing out to be.

I had left Dani lying on the operating table looking yellow skinned, she would have given Marge a run for her money. That was before I saw her insides laying out on the surgeons table. Looked like spag bol with too much tomato sauce.

“Listen,” I said to the consultant afterwards “I’m a student nurse, at least I used to be, so don’t lie to me. Don’t BS me. If she’s going to die please just tell me, because you would do more harm by sugar coating things and getting my hopes up.”

Truth is I didn’t even care about the baby at this point. I thought Dani was going to die too.

The majority of maternal death causes are from infection, I knew this useful bit of information. None of my parents or in-laws realised the severity of the fact Dani has an infection, which could be life threatening. Being a nurse in these cases is not always a good thing. Ignorance is bliss….

“Dani has Sepsis, the baby too. Baby might die, she might not, it’s too early to say. Do you have a name for her yet”

“Sod the baby how is Dani? I’m not leaving her until she walks out of here with me.”

And I didn’t from that point on. The staff put up a bed next to hers in the high dependency unti, I wasn’t going to leave her. I knew her life was in danger just as much as the babys was.

I was becoming increasingly angry with the nurses asking for me to go and see her.

NOT WITHOUT DANI, WE SEE HER TOGETHER

Why oh why would I go and see my daughter and “bond” with her when she might die at any minute?

“!@$@!£% outrageous” I thought.

Congratulations

You must be thrilled!

It must have been a magical moment

For months I was traumatised. In conjunction with the birth, my brain injury meant my fatigue exacerbated everything! My moods, my exhaustion, my inability to cope with the smallest of tasks, the panic… I was anxious non stop and didn’t sleep for a  year. I was overweight and run down. My face was covered in grease and spots constantly. Dani or Reese would cough, or sneeze and I would panic. The complete opposite of the person I was before or I am today. I was a wreck.

People didn’t understand. This was the time I needed help most. but because people didn’t understand, the help was not there. I don’t blame anyone for this. If anything, I thank them because now I have what it takes to live through anything coping on my own, working things out for myself and dealing with trauma.

If remembering Mexico wasn’t enough, this would keep my brain nicely screwed for a few more years

This all happened on the 19th December. Reese was discharged with Dani on the 23rd. After a sleepless night for both Dani, Reese and I and some intense anxiety when we came home, I was back in hospital with her on christmas eve. Turns out everything was fine, her lungs hadn’t collapsed like when she was born (always a bonus).

I’m not sure why I’m writing this now, for some reason it has been on my mind today. Writing it down has helped a bit, even if I am being a bit of a scrooge as it is christmas eve! Mwahahaha

It took me a while to recover from this. The crash had traumatised me enough (yes, seeing the world through brain injured eyes while your brain is swollen and bleeding is not pleasant. I had dementia for a whole month, which was fun too) so this just finished me off I think. I think the moral that I have taken from this experience is this;

If someone is snappy, on edge, jumpy, spends all their time looking at the floor, not as sociable as they usually are, not being able to deal with small things – rather than just jumping to the conclusion (which we as humans are guilty of) that the there is something wrong with the person and they are just a … whatever. Don’t avoid them, don’t ostracise them.. don’t be IGNORANT

It may be they are going through some form of stress disorder. I would have given anything for some understanding during those months. I learned more about human beings in this year then I have in my whole life.

Years of therapy and I have finally left the madness behind. Well, some of it is still here I reckon.. But I’ve grown to  like it

Instead, when I told my family I had destroyed my laptop in the fear the cops might find out where I am and arrest me for something I didn’t do, they were as puzzled as you could wish to be.

I dug myself out of this hole, and I don’t know how, but I’ll always remember what it was like. Maybe it’s the time of year, but it makes me all the more thankful for today and what I have.

Besides…

Does this look like a child that had a collapsed lung and was severely unwell?

…..no. Because she knows how to Hustle Hard like her Daddy, who loves her very much! Merry crimbo!

I think it would be fair to say that I’ve wanted to be able to write this blog for about 5 or 6 years. Well, the time has finally arrived and once again, let us rejoice with gin and tonic 🙂

Yesterday was a hugely pivotal day in my rehab and overall jolly surreal life. It was the day I was due to start my volunteering at Julia’s House hospice, something I’ve wanted to do since I first stepped into that magical place 5 years ago. I knew straight away I wanted to work there when I took a tour round the house on an open day, but I knew it would probably be in high demand and I ought to start building a good reputation for myself early on as an unpaid carer/volunteer working for them. I had planned to start as soon as I returned from Mexico..

Then some plonker forget to check his tyre!

So here I am –

Nursing is the one thing I’m good at (or at least was good at) and I know the only way you land big time jobs such as these is by building a solid reputation in whatever specialised field it may be, making the right impression and also knowing the right people. So yesterday was the day I was to find out if I could still do it; fatigue, word finding, dizziness, nausea, poor concentration and awful memory permitting!

…….Well that was a mouthful!

But I wanted to chuck all that aside and go for it anyway,  C’est La Vie.

I shouldn’t be back at uni. Statistics say I shouldn’t even be alive.

90% of people who sustain my injury never return to employment.

Even if I am lucky enough to be alive, the chances are favoured toward me living the rest of my life from a wheelchair, or remaining in a persistent vegetative state. The last two years I have watched everything I ever built (nursing reputation etc) fall to the ground and smash into pieces which has been so soul destroying I almost flew off the rails. VERY NEARLY. 

So when I woke up yesterday morning, I knew that in a few hours I was going to find out whether nursing terminally ill children (or any form of nursing really) and achieving what I want in life would really be possible after sustaining a severe knock to the noggin’. I don’t get nervous anymore, but it’s fair to say that when I got up out of bed even I can admit that I was feeling slightly trepidatious!

It might sound silly, but I am putting my heart on the line by trying this. I’m revealing it openly and placing myself in a vulnerable position whereby the devil/bearded god/elephant god/ evil forces/or whatever  has free access and can smash it to pieces all over again.

So after losing my way to the hospice a few times, stopping and needing to ask FOUR different locals for directions to the hospice (this was after a call to a friend asking for directions, thanks Jade *thumbs up*). I was also deceived by the devil himself cleverly disguised as an elderly woman being taken for a walk by her dog instructing me to drive a mile up the wrong road.  I finally arrived and with half an hour to spare anyway (take that lucifer!)

I sat in handover (In the morning all the staff in a care setting sit down and discuss the patient’s so everyone is aware of what the time is) and I listened to the children that I would be helping to look after for the next 5 hours.

My heart quickened each time the nurse read out a patient’s illness, medication and symptoms. This was the quickening pulse that I always got prior to my accident while preparing to go and nurse a group of patients, it was the thrilling feeling of knowing that whatever illnesses have been bestowed upon the people I’m just about to meet, despite the sickness, whatever might happen to them for the time I am there it doesn’t matter because they are in MY care while I’m about. No matter how sad they might be, how much pain and discomfort they’re in, I will be able to make them smile and take their mind off of whatever it is, even if it’s just for a few seconds.

Those few seconds are what people hold on to during their darkest times. It’s those moments that give people the energy to keep going, I really believe that!

So I sat in the handover session and  tried to remember as much as I could to test my memory and also because I like to be on the ball.  I knew that for the time I was volunteering there, brain injury or no bloody brain injury I was gonna make some kids laugh and have fun. I wasn’t nervous, scared, anxious.. any form of uneasy feelings were absent. This is my world and I know what I’m doing, I’m comfortable. In a weird way it definitely feels like it’s where I belong, it’s what I fight for really.

Between the time of 9am – 1:30 I was in my absolute element, and I loved and savoured every nano second of it! For the first time in three years I had completely forgot that I had a BI and I just got on with it.

Ah “normality”, how I have missed you kind sir.

The boy I was looking after would have a “drop”/seizure every hour or so. Each time but one I was able to be on the ball and noticed when the symptoms would develop right before he would have one. And each time I felt 150% confident (just like I used to) that he was with he right person (or people, I wasn’t on my own of course!) that knows what they’re doing and is comfortable with the situations that arise.

 Sure, I started to get dizzy at certain points, the fatigue lingered, I misplaced my coat 4 times and nearly left without my wallet – but I just stuck to the good old SAS mantra of shutting up and cracking on with the job. Mind you it still hurt each time I returned to a cup of tea that had gone stone cold because I’d forgotten about it.

That sweet moment just before the first sip of a cup of really good looking tea, the longing for the serenity that only a cup of cha brings, the peaceful pleasant feeling that is momentarily about to befall your lips and being… SMASHED INTO PIECES BECAUSE IT’S GONE STONE BLOODY COLD

Over the years I have learned to push my feelings and discomforts aside and this enables me to achieve more. But while I was at Julia’s House helping to look after those kids none of that really mattered,  it was worth it.

It doesn’t matter how this sounds to whoever is reading this; but this is what I’ve been put here to do. I’m never as comfortable or as happy as when I’m doing this job. That’s why even if I had my arms and legs amputated I would still find a way. And that ain’t a joke.

The best part of this jolly experience is that I received an email this morning from the lady who is head of volunteering and works at JH office saying this:

Feedback from the hospice is that you just got stuck in and they all loved you!

I could lose it all tomorrow but it would all be worth it just to read those few words! The relief is hard to describe. Three years of being ostracised, berated, learning to be a misfit who get’s everything wrong and is now an expert at hurting people, forgetting to change his own daughter’s nappy, leaving there gas ring on the stove on 10 times a week…..

….THE BLACK SHEEP…..

….All of that… to hearing that you’re still as good at what you love more than anything as you were before is just an unmatched feeling for me. I know I’m not as sharp as I used to be and what not, the brain injury has humbled me and I realise I make a lot more mistakes than the average bear, I need to make this into consideration for everything I do. But to know that I can still do what I’m best at and enjoy the most is the best feeling I could wish for!

Big things are back on the horizon, I’ve seen to that…and it only starts here.

Watch this space…… it’s finally worth watching again!

I’ll finish with this last paragraph:

I have no interest in most things in life and I had a few jobs after uni where I crashed and burned spectacularly. I can be a sod at times and I have a temper. I didn’t forgive too often before my injury so I’m doomed now, I can’t help that. I’m inappropriate and can be rude without realising it. If I don’t like you you’re sure as hecklfie to know within seconds of meeting me.

But one thing I was always good at and still am, is making kids laugh under rubbish circumstances. I can make people forget for a few minutes/seconds/moments, that’s the decent thing I am good at. I want to help and I have believed in treating the patient over their bed number all my working life (much to many matron’s and ward sister’s dislike) and I will go to the end of the earth for that cause, because I believe in it. I’m just glad I’m still good at it!

Not many (or any) of your reading this will have any idea what it’s like to lose your personality, to lose how you used to be and all the different qualities that you acquired over the years that made you who you are and what people love about you.

Sometimes I forget I’m not as quick as I used to be. I start talking and forget what I’m saying, so I quickly recover. Or I forget my words, my sentences become mixed and jumbled. I become aggressive over trivial things, or I remember I’m not as patient as I once was.  I’m constantly exhausted – Not many people notice, because I don’t have many problems that are visible to the naked eye. And I’ve become adept at dealing with my symptoms so well they are even more hidden! Ultimately I am a walking clown that makes more mistakes than the average bear on a daily basis. But guess what, It’s Ok, because….

I’VE ACCEPTED IT

The hardest thing I have ever experienced was the day I needed to forget who I used to be prior to my honeymoon, and start to relearn everything all over again and become someone else. It takes more guts to do this than anything else I can think of, which is another reason I don’t experience anxiety or fear anymore.

Once you can take that first step in the healing process, you have mastered the scariest thing imaginable!

It’s like waking up one day and finding you’re in a different body entirely

Don’t think I’m exaggerating, this is exactly how it feels. Not being able to breathe and not knowing whether the next time the nurse puts the suction catheter in your mouth  is going to do any good is a scary feeling, I’ll admit that. It’s also scary being strapped to a bed in a leer jet for 17 hours that you think is crashing, and the fire coursing through your veins in the form of sepsis in conjunction with this is slightly unnerving. Feeling life slipping away from you with each gasped and laboured breath with severe and acute pressure caused by the haemorrhages in your brain is scary. But this is scarier. Some people never reach this realisation, or they’re too scared or ashamed. Luckily, I made soooooooooooo  many major and heartbreaking mistakes I realised that there is a huge change in me and if I didn’t do something about it pronto I wouldn’t survive.

We might look OK, we might act fine and you won’t necessarily see any problems. But Maybe that’s because our spirit has taught us to hide it from you really well, otherwise we will become ostracised. Some people, like myself, are lucky with the people they have around them. But there have been people in my life that haven’t been able to deal with it. So not only do we have the bereavement of our old self to get our head around, but the bereavement of the people that are no longer by our side as a result of these changes in us.

Please don’t think any of this is in any way exaggerated for the purposes of this blog. People live with this pain everyday, and they are alone. Watch what you say to people, phrases like “Oh don’t worry I do that all the time” can be so damaging to people like me, and we don’t forget – it’s a symptom!

This blog was inspired by a lady with a brain injury who made a big choice recently in selling her horses; her love, enjoyment and passion that still existed from her old life, something that has changed in that she no longer feels the same way. I believe that she will start to heal as of now, but I’ll be the first to say that the road ahead is not gonna be easy. but she and I have something in common, as the picture above shows.

Be thankful for the different traits of your personality. Embrace the good and bad and don’t let anyone else’s opinion on things matter too much. Don’t worry about anything – love your friends and family – and more importantly –

Hustle Hard

I’ve come across a great brain injury Facebook page and wanted to share some inspirational pictures they have on their page. I also wanted to mention that it is only since “taking a break” from this blog have I realised how important it is for my little brain. Albeit, damaged little brain!

Here are just a few from the page –

The page is called – Brain Injury awareness.

But I think the strength and spirit of the people who post these types of inspirational pictures applies to pretty much anyone and any type of situation they might be going through. I know I said I wouldn’t be posting for a while untilI got things in order but I had some free time and wanted to share the pics, plus this only took 10 minutes so now I’m off to study!

I find that I need to study something a bit more than normal people for it to sink in. It takes me long to work through things, I need a lot of breaks in between.  I usually get a really bad headache within the first hour, and as time goes on I start to feel drunk, but not a pleasant drunk! Then dizziness follows and I start to recognise the signs to stop right before I become sick. Lots of sleep, meditation and nutrition helps with my concentration, A double shot of espresso from time to time also helps marvellously too!

This is just A quick note from my phone to say I won’t be posting a blog for a while.

My executive dysfunctional symptoms from my injury mean that I am struggling big time with the workload and managing lots of different things at uni. I’m constantly fatigued/exhausted (NOT how you think of it) with headaches and a dodgy stomach from dizziness – I’ve become so excited having a life again that I may have taken on a bit too much. I’ve recognised that now and it’s time to level out and crack on. Luckily I have some reliable people around me who can give me feedback on things like this.

I’m always the last to know about things and I need to take action before it really takes its toll on my studies. Luckily the UNI have some great support services for disability/learning difficulty which meet some of my needs.

People with BI aren’t meant really meant to attempt something as audacious as a nursing degree!

After all, 90% of people with BI never return to work again. Cue Robin Williams…..

I seem to have spent a lot of time painting this picture of how well I’m dealing with things brain injury wise. I’ve been thinking that I might have been over jollyfying my situation, so that thought alone inspired me to mention this and briefly discuss this word, this ONE of many things that I try my best to deal with on a daily basis –

RUMINATION

What does that mean to you? No seriously, I’m genuinely asking. Please get in touch or leave comments below. The problem with brain injuries is that there symptoms are not exclusive to BI, so everyone thinks you are exaggerating when you mention them as symptoms, rather than truthfully portraying them as the simple personality traits that they are.

I have been ruminating about things from since I first came out of hospital. Things people said, things that annoyed me etc. I have always had a thing for respect, I’m big on respect. But now, if someone is rude to me, or they say something that I don’t think is necessarily acceptable: if I don’t get to have MY SAY , or worse, I feel disrespected then this is what follows;

• Sleepless nights
• Shorter temper with everyday things
• Poor planning
• Increased memory slips
• Fatigue
• Headaches
• Dizziness
• Constantly my head is spinning with “what I should say”, “what I should have said”, “that person would not have said that if…”It’s so unfair, if only I could express myself properly”
• Snapping at small and trivial things
• And even… lack of appetite! No just kidding on that one….. 

I am now able to respond accordingly, that is, in a polite and respectable manner to any confrontations I have. In the early days this was just not possible, but I have come along way since then, with great therapy and a lot of “learning on the job”. I certainly do not expect any of you reading this to have the slightest understanding of where I am coming from, of course, because you have to move on with things when they bother you. But just for a moment, imagine if you couldn’t…

Just imagine the last time someone pissed you off and you couldn’t or didn’t get the chance to respond. Now think of someone taking a stamp, dipping it in ink and then stamping your forehead. That’s it. It can never be removed, it’s there for good. That’s just one aspect of having a frontal lobe injury.

Well my friends, with damage to the frontal Lobe of the brain “moving on” is not as easy as it sounds. And by the way, you are on your own here with this problem, if you haven’t realised that by now with a BI. The reason you are completely on your own is because 90% of the time if you try to voice your concerns with anyone close to you, the person you are trying to reach out to is just unable to understand why it is that you just can’t move on.

You will inevitably end up upsetting them anyway. So something else that I learn from Andy Mcnab (ex SAS soldier turned fictional writer) Is just shut up and get on with the job. That really is all you can do. Live with it.

Along with meditation, too. This simply is a MUST for anyone who has suffered a BI. I’ve been doing it for three years now and I can honestly say it is probably either the number one/two most important aspect of my daily survival routine.

This blog is not emotional. It’s not amazing, shocking, surprising, outstanding or any other type of DING that people enjoy reading about. But it is the reality of brain injury. I’m barely scratching the surface here. I just had to write about it because I have things on my mind that are pissing me off like you wouldn’t believe. There’s a dab of honesty!

Just like when someone dies, the beginning of this blog has attracted a lot of attention. But slowly over time, as I become more truthful and explain more and more of my reality, the numbers will start to decrease.

This is not a problem for me! I’m merely expressing my view of how people cope with their “understanding” of my condition. It’s great at first; “You’re an inspiration. Resilience, passion ….YOU SURVIVED… etc etc” But ultimately people will start to realise that these problems are not like a broken leg; they cannot be fixed quickly. They are long term, and thats just boring. Who the heckles wants to be bothered with his probelem. I’ve heard it all before! Change the record!

Maybe thats why people have such a limited grasp of the logistics of BI: it goes against what humans do in a crisis i.e. it CANNOT BE FIXED! This is where BI become socially unacceptable. So in order for people to try and understand your problems, get their heads round not being able to understand you, allowing themselves to succumb to the “dislike” of your newfound traits, they brand you as someone who just can’t move on, controversial, rude, bad tempered. It’s not a brain injury, thats just an excuse. Or more often it’s “I’m only human, it’s so hard to deal with”

Thats why I always cling to my E-Cig, it’s a distraction technique and I use it to try and take my mind off … well… my mind! Not the best strategy I’ve learned, but certainly one that works for me at the moment.

So if you ever hear me being truthful, a bit too honest, a bit forward.. it’s not because I want to be rude.. far from it! I have always hated the idea of hurting peoples feelings. It’s because it I didn’t say it, whatever it was….

I WOULD BE STAMPED!

Since starting this blog I have become increasingly aware of the fact that I predominantly talk about myself, and my own challenges. Although that’s what a blog is for I guess, I hate doing that!

My mum will tell you I am the centre of attention, that I like talking about myself. Well, she’s right. I used to dance around the house naked just to be seen. I used to strip to the song “you sexy thing” in public discos form the age of about 5 (the same way Robert Carlise did in the film “The full monty” in the garage scene) But I’m not keen on droaning on to everyone about how difficult my life is, how hard it is being brain injured etc etc. I am the lucky one, I have been truly blessed and I am thankful every single day for this. So thankful!

I’m going to write a very short and quick blog here today. So thanks for reading.

The End

Only joking, I could never say so little, either in a blog or during conversation. Instead, I’m going to write a quick little piece on something that is very important to me. I’m going to write about the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.  It is pointless me writing these blogs and taking credit for my resilience and everything else without letting you in on this: letting you all know about this amazing act of kindness. It is as simple as this; I would not be here today if it was not for this person. I had planned on writing about this at some point for sure, but as I have started to write spontaneously here today, I feel that now is the right time to mention it.

While I was in my coma, after I had sustained severe injuries to my brain – Dani’s side of the family helped us out hugely back home by keeping people in the loop of what was happening. My mother in law (MIL) was frantically ringing round all the people that needed to know I was not in great shape, such as my university, and telling them that I would not be retuning the following week as planned.

The only down side about writing spontaneously is that it has meant I’ve been in the middle of other things. I just have to get Reese out of the bath and then I’ll carry on.

 

Done. Little monkey wanted mummy which got me off the hook. Handy.

As I was saying, my MIL was in touch with the uni. She had told them what was happening: we had our accident on honeymoon and I was in critical condition and still in my coma. As this was early days and none of us were sure what the outcome was going to be (except for me, I wasn’t going anywhere). However, the uni had to decide on what the best action was to take.

They had a meeting. And only recently did I find out that this special person was my number one advocate from the start, even in the early days when I was asleep.

So time months go by. I start to realise that it will take me a long time to recover from my injury enough to return to my child nursing studies. I became severely depressed as time went by. I tried to go back after a year, but was unsuccessful. I was so ill when I had returned to university the first time I had to go and sit in the toilet to rest my head on the wall in the cubicle.

My head was so bad. 

At the start of the day I ended up sitting in the toilet cubicle resting my head against the side of the wall to try and stop the dizziness and pain. The smell of poo from next door didn’t help the situation I must admit. Tears fell down my cheek as I realised I couldn’t do this and I would have to turn my back on my dream of being a nurse, never knowing if I would be well enough to try again. This was my last chance of trying, as the NMC have strict rules that say once a nursing student has started their training, they have to finish the programme within five years or they cannot be registered as a qualified nurse.

The week following I was due to go up the London to the Grovesnor hotel to give out an award at the Student Nursing Times awards event. I had written to the lady I was in contact with to tell her I would not be returning to university.

The person in question had been on the other end of the phone to my family since I was in my coma, so she understood how much it meant to me to be a nurse. I’m not going to name the person as I haven’t asked her permission, but it will become clear who she is to the people who are in my tutor group.

I walked into the awards room, my head spinning. The first person I saw sat at the table closest to me  was the very person in question: my contact at the university. She had read my email, and knew I wouldn’t be coming back to university. She sat and watched the awards ceremony unfold without me (I was too unwell to give out the award in the end, and was not acknowledged because of this) which was another soul destroying aspect of my ongoing misfortunes!

Another month or so goes by and I receive an email from her asking me to come in for us to make my leaving the programme official, for me to get some closure. That’s when the miracle happened, and in my eyes it was nothing short of that.

Dani and I sat down opposite the lady in a meeting room and talked about things, how I just wasn’t well enough to continue my course as a nurse etc. As I was getting ready to say good bye, she said:

“It has been arranged for you that if you want to, you can try and return to the course in a year and a half when you have recovered a bit more, and you won’t have to reapply for the programme.”

I was perplexed. Had I heard right?

“Really? But that’s not allowed, who authorised this??”

“I did.” 

This lady had put her reputation on the line by vouching for me and keeping my place at university open for a longer time than is accepted and permitted by the NMC. I have been through a lot, come pretty close to death and remembered every last second of it……

But only here can I say I had an outer body experience!

On my journey it has been all too easy to lose faith in me. It has tested and tried a lot of people. I am not perfect.  I have made a lot of mistakes, and I’m sure I’ll continue to make more than the average bear.

But I won’t  forget 

Those who have stuck by me; those who have tried their best to understand, knowing that they will never fully be able to help or understand my problems.. I can’t and won’t ever forget. I can honestly say that this simple act of kindness gave me hope, the only hope I had since my accident. It inspired me beyond any words and reminded me that I was not totally useless, that I was still wanted by people, that someone out there still believed in me. O.K. it is fair to say that this person did not live with me, had not had to put up with my behaviour problems etc – but she didn’t have to do what she did. If it wasn’t for her, goodness knows where I would be. When I get to where I am going…

I will always remember! 

I always looked up to the lady in question before I had had my accident. She is strong figure for paediatric nursing, has even been to see the queen for her services to the job. I was inspired by her beforehand, now I am in awe of her!

If at anytime I struggle with my fatigue, dizziness, impulsivity, being a bit too truthful, embarrass myself with my weird social screw ups, act in a really inappropriate way, am sick because of the nausea from my fatigue.. all I do is think about how much I owe this individual, how much she believes in me: and how much I believe in myself as a result.

Nursing is a profession where compassion and empathy should always come first. This act of compassion embodies what nursing is all about. She demonstrated to me the true meaning of empathy and compassion. I will become a better nurse because of it. That is another reason I wanted to share it with you. This lady is a credit to our profession, she deserves a mention (directly or indirectly) at the very least and I will not rest until I have proved her right and MADE SURE she is acknowledged for this. This is a perfect demonstration of a good nurse, and is a characteristic that I will teach to Reese, my daughter.

In a world dominated by selfishness and money: this is proof that there still are amazingly caring people out there

I know these are strong words, but those of you who really know me understand how much my job as a nurse means to me – these words don’t even scratch the surface to the depth of my gratitude. I would go to hell and back for my job.

Then I’d do it again just to be sure

On behalf of all my family and anyone that has ever truly known me, from the bottom of my heart….

THANK YOU.

The hard work starts here… bring it on. 

Sometime in 2010

My pulse quickened as my mother in Law, Julie, drove us closer and I could start to see the outlines of the impressive house we were about to take a tour round. A tour that would inevitably set me on a path that would change my life! A simple tour that would fill my heart with so much determination and passion each time I thought about this building  and the people in it I would simply never take no for an answer, and I wouldn’t stop until I was satisfied I would be returning to the same address one day wearing a uniform or better still, dressed as a clown.

As we were shown around the big house, I knew something special was happening to me. It felt like I was meant to be here, walking round inside these walls, like all the moments of my life had brought me to this point. Sounds peculiar, and a bit like I might be inhaling marijuana fumes – but that’s how it felt.

My mother-in-law and I had just taken a tour around Julia’s House hospice for children, situated in Dorset. She had asked if I would like to accompany her a few weeks earlier, as she knew I was on a path for working with children in a nursing role.  I of course jumped at the chance, and after the tour had finished I did something all excited teenage boys do – I went straight home and phoned my mum.

“Mum, something has happened to me. I’ve had another moment. One day I will work at Julia’s house. I have to, it makes sense. It was like I was being called there, I have never seen anything before quite like it, I have to work there. And I will.”

June 2014

Steve turned the handle to the door at the front end of the warehouse. It was directly opposite the entrance people came to to drop off large donations to the shop, like sofas and beds.

“This is it mate. Will need to have a sort through just to get things in order for Sue.” He explained. The room was full of toys and fun equipment that was obviously used for entertaining young children, or people like me. After I asked why this was all here Steve answered with words that have changed my life. The words he spoke surged through me like electricity.

“These are the toys used by Sue Keenan who works as a playmaker at Julia’s house. When a child is in the last moments of their life, she will be called upon to come in and make it a more pleasant time for the children. She will make them laugh, district them, that kind of thing. She’ll use all these toys and boxes of tricks to help put a smile on their faces, as they’re often in a lot of pain at this stage. So any donation we receive that would be suitable for her to use are kept in here. Sue is an amazing woman.”

Standing in that warehouse, on the threshold to this small little room, a decision was made for me. I knew there and then that nothing would stop me from fulfilling my ambition, no, my dream of becoming a playmaker, or something very similar. I want this more than anything.

If you treat the illness you win and you lose. But if you treat the patient – you’re guaranteed to win EVERY time

I have lived by these words my entire adult life. When I fulfil my purpose to do this job, I will win every time. Many people have said to me in the past “Oh I just could’t do it! It would be too sad..” And my response is always the same “But I wouldn’t be trained or working to treat their illness. The children I would be caring for are terminal – they are not treated, just made comfortable. That means I would actually get paid for putting the person first. I’m guaranteed to win. Children will die every day around the world, whether you do the job or not”

Of course, I am not saying it would be all sunshine and roses and I would find it an easy job. Please don’t think I am that naive. I have been in a lot of trouble of the years for treating the patient as well as the illness, because I can’t help but want to put the person first. “By their name, not by their bed number” a quote that has got me in trouble once or twice with ward sisters over the years. Or ward witches, as I cleverly dubbed them. How amazing would it be to finally be commended and not berated for putting the patient first. In a palliative setting – to put the patient first – that’s all there is!

Nothing will stop me getting to this job. Not a brain injury, not any symptoms I have associated with it and certainly not anything man made or human. I will die trying to get to it because I know that without this element in my life it has been proven that I cannot survive. I feel this is a definite calling for me. I could not do anything else, it’s just as simple as that.

I have only ever had a few “lightbulb” moments like this in my life that I knew were “path choosers“. The first was in the job centre when I told the lady I wanted to do something to make a difference and she had suggested nursing. The second was when I met a child of a friend who has Cerebral Palsy and we made eye contact, this set me on the difficult road to getting in to uni to study child nursing. A road very different to the one I was travelling down before I entered that job centre. Think I would be dead or more likely in prison if my mum hadn’t of made me stop off there on my way back from being sacked from my now old job.

A few months go by after the warehouse incident at a Julia’s house donation shop in Creekmoor. I’m at home when I receive the phone call. I nearly drop my hemp protein shake as it made me jump. It was an unknown number, so I was getting ready to tell someone who wanted me to claim back for PPI for the third time this week to piss off. So I answer my iPhone and here is the following dialogue to the conversation that ensued:

“Hi Mikey. I have been given your number because I have been told you would be extremely interested in working with the children here at Julia’s house. We have quite a few dates coming up that I can offer you, if you don’t mind?”

“This is amazing. It’s only taken me nearly four years, but to be speaking with you and arranging this is such a great privilege for me. I’ll say 14th December for now, and I’ll come back with some more dates when I’ve checked my calendar with the boss.”

 I think Steve and the guys at the shop had been so taken aback by how obsessed I had become by the idea of becoming a playmaker, that this phone call was always going to happen. Everyone at the Julia’s house HQ and Creekmoor shop know how much I want this! Steve even spoke to Sue Keenan and gave me her contact details as she was so keen to meet me after she had heard of my constant quizzing of the staff at the shop over the details her job!

I feel blessed to be where I am. I am so grateful every day to be surrounded with such a supportive wife, supportive family, an amazing medical and exceptional rehab team that have been working with me since I was in my demented post brain injury state and of course: Reese. To be able to achieve my dreams is only possible because of these people. I couldn’t do this on my own, it’s just not possible. You have to be blessed with a great team. If you’re not, you’re chances of achieving what you want will be so much harder.

All I know is it’s been a roller coaster, one heck of a roller coaster. But I’m now ready to pick up where I left off, three years later. So maybe it is with a different personality, lots of symptoms, behavioural and social issues and ongoing complications. But all that will never change the fact that when my daughter asks me what I do for a job, I will be able to answer with “I am living my dream job.”

I won’t be able to say I’m a famous singer. I’m not a celebrity. I’m not a multimillionaire playboy investor who makes regular appearances on Loose Women. But I’ll be able to say this:

“Daddy looks after children that are unwell. They won’t ever get better, but you know what Reese? Sometimes making people/children smile is enough, even if it’s just for a minute or two.”

That’s MY Britain’s got talent moment!