Never Broken

by Hannah Campbell

  After all we’ve been through, there is something very special about my relationship with Milly. Being aware of the influence I have in shaping her life has made me refuse to be a miserable person, consumed with bitterness about my injury. The truth is, that as an amputee if I said to people: ‘I can’t do that, I’ve only got one leg,’ they would accept it. But I didn’t want to be that person to my daughter: I didn’t want to be defeatist; I wanted to do better.

  Now she’s coming up for eleven years old, I think Milly has started to realise how important she’s been in getting me to where I am today. I know today, without a shadow of doubt, that my daughter is proud of me. She tells her friends at school about me and my former life in the Army, and that I’m a special mum. Maybe she would have been proud of me even if I hadn’t done wild things like skiing or running a marathon, who knows? Today I feel that we have a stronger bond than most mums and daughters, though. I suppose not every mum would go out of their way to do extreme things to make their daughter proud of them but not every mum can look at their daughter and know that she gave her the strength to go on.

  Of course, I also love Lexi-River to bits as she is my miracle baby. I’ve enjoyed her as a baby so, so much. She is such a happy little girl. The miracle of her even being here has given me the chance to enjoy all the things I missed out on with Milly as my life was blighted by injury. Going to the park or to a play group wasn’t as easy with Milly as I was in the Army; I had to put my job first as that’s what I’d signed up to. Then after that I couldn’t go due to my injuries. This time around, with Lexi-River, this isn’t an issue and I can relax and enjoy watching her grow up. When she gets older she will never have known me as anything other than an amputee, so to her having a mummy with one leg will be the most natural thing in the world. It is natural now to Milly, but as she knew me before and was there throughout all the devastating aftermath of my injuries we’ve had to work through the tough times together. With Lexi-River there’s none of that.

  In addition, I haven’t been treated for PTSD for many years now. While there’s always a chance it could return later in life, I’ve got the coping strategies in place to be able to deal with it, if it ever resurfaced. There are amazing charities like Combat Stress, who are doing so much, and they have helped many of my friends.

  One other thing that took my mind off the split from Anthony was that we had to move house. We had a beautiful, massive seven-bedroom place but because it was now only the three of us, we had to downsize – it seemed silly to have such a big place with us rattling around in it. We spent months searching for somewhere and then this beautiful period property in Northampton came up. The minute we walked in the front door to view it, I knew I’d found our home. We got the keys a few weeks later and we’ve been there ever since. It’s got such a happy atmosphere. I’ve got all our family pictures up in a giant collage in the kitchen. Milly and Lexi-River’s toys are scattered everywhere but that’s how it should be; the house is filled with love and laughter. When I look back at our old place it feels like it was such a burden and, while it was a beautiful house, it didn’t have a soul. Anthony, who lives close by, regularly takes Lexi-River twice a week, which gives him bonding time with our beautiful daughter.

  I also had something else in my diary to look forward to just after we moved: I was going to realise an ambition of mine to be on ITV’s Loose Women. I loved the show and used to watch it all the time from the comfort of my sofa, so when one of the producers approached me to appear in their Armed Forces special with Lexi-River, to talk about my life in the Army and how far I’d come, and of course how my life had now moved on, I agreed straight away. But the minute I put the phone down on them I thought: ‘Oh my God, I’m nervous! What have I done?’

  The show was only weeks away and I was determined to look and feel my best, so, I bought a new dress and got my hair and nails all done ready for the show. I felt so privileged to be asked to take part and share my story about life in the Army, being a mum on the frontline, and recovering from terrible injuries doing my job. I also wanted to take Milly with me so she would have the amazing experience of being with me in a TV studio, so I arranged for her to have the day off from school and the show booked a taxi to take us all the way from Northampton to the TV studios, which are on London’s Southbank. Even the journey down was exciting, especially for Milly. She felt so special sitting in the back of this posh taxi; it was great fun.

  We got a special room behind the scenes and Milly was so excited because it had a little fridge in it, filled with drinks and snacks she could help herself to. I had my make-up done by two professional stylists. I was nervous that I was going to slip up and say something silly as it was live TV, but having Lexi-River with me made it easier and my main concern was that she was going to bawl her eyes out right there in the middle of Loose Women. But I needn’t have worried – she was the perfect baby. I think my interview went well and it was great being able to talk about what life is like for women in the Army and to show the world that even though you are an amputee, you can still have a life; you can have a family and both can be pretty amazing. I wanted to try and put over the positive message that just because I had been through an horrific time, it didn’t necessarily mean that I was going to curl up and die in a corner. I hoped that maybe I would help someone else sitting at home who may have suffered something life-changing like myself to say: ‘Right, if Hannah Campbell can get on with things then so can I!’

  I also got to meet a few of the celebrities who were guest presenters on the show that day: Myleene Klass and Janet Street-Porter, who were fantastic, and everyone was making a fuss of Milly and Lexi-River, who loved it! The whole thing was a complete whirlwind but I’m just so glad I went through with the experience as it was so positive. While I pushed myself to do it, as it was very much out of my comfort zone, I felt I came across well and promoted a very positive image not only of the Army but also of disability.

  The only slight blot on the landscape for me throughout the whole of this time has been my chronic stomach problem. Since autumn 2014, when the wheels came off my recovery, I’ve been repeatedly admitted to hospital with severe abdominal pain. Daily pain with your stomach is so debilitating and the doctors took a while to get a proper diagnosis of my condition, so I was starting to fear that something was seriously wrong with me. I began to get quite bad anxiety attacks with it as well as I became terrified I was dying and that I would leave my girls without a mum. While I wasn’t able to control whatever was causing the pain, I was able to control my mind and in turn my reaction to it, thanks to the counselling I’d received. My rationale was that if everyone was afraid of what was around the corner and the unknown then no one would ever get out of bed in the morning!

  After a series of medical investigations over the course of the next six months, it was discovered that I had a couple of perforated ulcers and suspected chronic pancreatitis. More shrapnel was found in my abdomen in December 2014 and this has caused some additional problems. With such tiny fragments, doctors have to weigh up the risks of abdominal surgery – and often tiny pieces can cause no harm and can be difficult to remove. I have a pea-sized lump of shrapnel in my left bum cheek, which causes me no trouble at all – and getting people to guess what it could be is one of my party tricks as well as thumping out my prosthetic leg on bar tops! But unfortunately, I have had to have several bouts of surgery again, which after everything I’ve been through came as quite a blow. As soon as they told me what the name of my illness was I thought: ‘Well, at least I know what’s wrong and now I’m going to deal with it.’ The doctors also told me that during one of my scans I had endometriosis, which causes infertility and makes Lexi-River’s conception even more of a miracle.

  I see these health issues as a temporary blip and for the first time in a very long while, I finally feel like now I have found my place: I am just so happy and contented. When I look in the mirror I actually like myself again. I’ve looked good for a while, or so m
y friends have all told me! Now I actually feel it and believe them. Some people may think that undergoing the amount of cosmetic surgery I’ve had is extreme but the whole experience of what I’ve been through is extreme. It’s hard to love yourself when you’re covered in stitches from countless operations to try and save your sight or your face, or help with your leg. To be honest, at times it feels like the war I’ve been fighting is with my own body. Even now, because of the gastric bypass I have to watch what I eat and it’s really hard. I go to the gym twice a week and I take multivitamins daily to ensure I’ve got all the nutrients I need and I’ve maintained my weight at 9 stone.

  In total, I’ve spent around just over £52,000 of my compensation money on cosmetic surgery and other beauty treatments. I knew I was never going to be perfect but then I wasn’t looking for perfection, which is something I think those people who become addicted to plastic surgery are looking for. I knew that would never be possible as I only have one leg and countless shrapnel and operation scars, so straight away, these are what some might regard as ‘imperfections’ that with the best will in the world cannot be fixed, and I accept that. Personally, I see them as a history of my journey. But I also wanted to face the world as a woman in her twenties. While I knew any surgery would leave further scarring, I wanted to improve as best I could what I felt had been damaged by the blast. Removing my excess skin, getting back the breasts that I had before, and perking my face up with a bit of Botox not only because my eye had dropped but because I felt the whole experience had aged me considerably, all helped me find myself again. There’s an Army saying: ‘You look like you’ve have a paper round in Baghdad’ – and that’s how I felt about my appearance. The stress of it all had taken its toll on both my body and my looks.

  Without my injuries I would never have been someone who would have gone in for plastic surgery. Maybe I would have had my boobs done but that’s only a maybe! The compensation money is there to compensate you for everything you have suffered. My body and face took the worst of the hit, so that’s why I used some of the cash to get back some of what I lost. I have also learned that while I have regained some of who I was before, I’ve also become a new person. What has happened has changed me and I’d say I’ve became a far more compassionate person than I was before, and I think that everything I’ve been through has ultimately made me a better person too.

  For the past few years, as I have grown in confidence and acceptance of myself, I have been asked by other injured service people for my advice and to tell my story of what I’ve been through. I’m always delighted to help and always have the time to spare.

  Another female soldier, who was injured in a freak accident, asked for my advice when she had to make the tough decision as to whether to elect for amputation after years of surgery on her leg. Her situation was almost identical to the one I found myself in, although she’d persevered for more years than me, trying to save her limb. Our meeting was like a role reversal of the time I met Captain Kate Philp. She asked me almost exactly the same questions, including: ‘How do you go for a wee in the middle of the night?’ and ‘Do you wear heels?’ – which made me laugh. It allowed me to reflect on how far I’ve come in a relatively short space of time. At that point I was in a really good place with my prosthetics and I said: ‘Elective amputation was the best thing I did. That’s not to say it will be the best thing for you, as that decision can only be made by you alone. All I can say is for me, the choice of being in a wheelchair or having an active life was a no-brainer.’ The last time I saw her she had gone ahead and had her leg amputated. Like me, she never looked back. She’s inspirational and I’m still in touch with her now.

  Helping her to set the wheels in motion to rebuild her life got me thinking about my own future. I have had a lot of help in being rebuilt from the inside out from lots of different people since I was injured. This includes everything from building confidence to how to dress when you have a prosthetic leg. I’ve been lucky to have received help from the Army through Headley Court and lots of other organisations like Blesma, from my surgeon Professor Sir Keith Porter, personal trainers who’ve helped me to get fit and even personal stylists. So what I really want to do now is to start a charity that helps other people who have also endured life-changing injuries. I want to provide a support network that helps people rebuild themselves, find their inner confidence again and face life. The onus will be on helping them to ultimately help themselves and learn how to carry on with their lives after really serious injuries. I’ve had so much help along the way from other people and I feel I have a lot to give myself; also, I want to work on getting a strong team of people together to help as well.

  In addition to the Army, the services charity Blesma and the time I have spent with them since first having my leg amputated has been fundamental in my rehabilitation process. From taking me skiing to motor-biking to even running the marathon, they’ve helped me achieve the impossible. I want to do similarly for not only former service personnel, but also civilians who don’t get access to something like this despite their injuries; I want to provide a charity which helps people in the Military but is also open to all.

  I also hope to inspire others, particularly my children. And my newfound confidence led me to undertake my first skydive in 2015. I turned up at a local centre with my friend Dale Leach who is also a former soldier and a left-leg-above-knee amputee who I’d met in Headley Court. I was scared half to death but not so worried as the staff when I insisted I wanted to wear my prosthetic leg! They were worried that the rush of wind would send it whizzing off through the air. But nothing would make me take it off.

  ‘I won’t jump unless I’m allowed to wear it,’ I said, explaining that I see my leg as my independence. They agreed, although I had to sign a waiver, and so up we went in a plane. As the expert counted down for the tandem jump, I thought, ‘God, what have I done?’ But the next thing we were in the air and it was the most exhilarating experience I’ve ever had. And thankfully my Headley Court prosthetic went the distance.

  Shortly after, in May 2015, I made a trip back to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham to see Professor Sir Keith Porter. For the first time I felt well enough and in a good enough place in my life to properly thank him for what he and his team have done for me. I wrote a letter to him and shortly after I was thrilled when he agreed to meet. As soon as I saw him, in a private room at the hospital, I just walked up to him and gave him the biggest hug, before saying, ‘Thank you for chopping my leg off!’. He was at pains to tell me he was just one part of a much bigger team, but I was thrilled that he remembered me and I told him that without him my life would be nothing like it is today and I’ll always be grateful to him.

  One of the things which strikes a chord with me and that I find sad is that troops are now heading back to Iraq in 2015; it makes me fear others may be injured there again, just like I was. When I heard it was going to happen I was filled with abject horror. It made me wonder why on earth we were going back there as it makes a mockery of all the work we did. Also, how many other men and women are going to be injured on the frontline in horrific ways and come home just like me? On learning this, my mind immediately went back to the day I was injured and the hell I endured, suffocating to near-death under the rubble of a building. What on earth was it all for? Why the hell have I, and hundreds of other servicemen and women and their families, gone through what we did to then go back and potentially start it all up again? It’s a farce that we have withdrawn from Afghanistan and the conflict zone there only to go back into another. I think that the cost of withdrawing has probably been more than if we’d just stayed in Iraq in the first place. It seems such a bizarre political dance that we’ve gone through only to end up straight back at square one again. I feel cheated and angered by it. I don’t know anyone who is going back and while I’ve kept in touch with a few close friends who are still serving, I have drifted away from many others. It seems natural as my life has moved on, and so has theirs.
I will never forget the times and experiences we’ve all shared, though, and I’m lucky to count a few, including Nikki, as firm friends for life. Her journey is also coming full circle as she leaves the Army in 2015 and is buying a house on the next street over from me, so it will be just like the old days.

  The Chilcot Inquiry is also supposed to be released later in 2015 and I await its findings with interest. As a former soldier, when you speak to civilians about Iraq there’s often contempt and that’s really difficult to hear, especially when you’ve paid a price with your health for so long. I always explain as a soldier we are paid to do a job and I wasn’t paid to think about the politics behind it. That said, it’s not easy to hear people say: ‘You didn’t achieve anything by being out there’ – particularly when you are missing a limb. I’m immensely proud of having served in the Army and every soldier I knew was proud to have served. That said, I feel in order to get on with my life I’ve had to cut the cord. It’s very easy not to, but if you don’t then it’s almost impossible to adapt to life outside as a civilian.

  Someone asked me what my new focus is in life and that’s an easy question to answer: it’s my girls. I was also recently asked, ‘If you could pass on one thing to them what would it be?’ My answer is ‘resilience’. Life does throw you a few curve balls and you need to be able to deal with them. I want my girls to be strong, independent woman (as Beyoncé would say!) but if you add resilience to the mix, well that’s quite a potent combination. They’ll be able to cope with whatever life throws their way.

  My amputation means I have a daily reminder of what I went through and my time in service for the rest of my life, but I can see a life for myself and it’s going to be a great one. So now, on 18 June, the day I was blown up in Iraq in 2007, when the email from Karl Croft drops into my inbox, simply saying, ‘Happy Life Day’, I know unequivocally that my life won’t just be happy – it is going to be FANTASTIC!