One Split Second
Gillian Crook
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: 1-800-839-8640
© 2012 by Gillian Crook. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
First published by AuthorHouse 10/21/2011
ISBN: 978-1-4567-8844-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4567-8843-8 (ebk)
Printed in the United States of America
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
DEDICATIONS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PREFACE
Part One
THURSDAY 25TH SEPTEMBER 2003
Saturday 27th September
(32 days)
Monday 29th September
Tuesday 30th September
I think it’s Thursday 2nd October
Friday 3rd October
Sunday 5th October
Monday 6th October
Tuesday 7th October
Part Two
TOUCHDOWN—JUST ARRIVED AT ST ALWYNS GENERAL HOSPITAL, GLASGOW
Tuesday 7th October 2003
Wednesday 8th October
Thursday 9th October
Friday 10th October
Sat 11th October
Sunday 11th October
Monday 13th October
Tuesday 14th October
Wednesday 15th October
Thursday 6 October
Friday, Saturday, Sunday…
Wednesday 3 November
Monday 1st November (I think)
5th November
Part Three
Friday 7th November
Sunday 8th November
Sunday 9th November
Monday 10th November
Tuesday 11th November
Wednesday 12th November
Thursday 13th November
Friday 14th November
Monday 17th November
Tuesday 18th November
Thursday 20th November
Friday 21st November
Monday 24th November
Tuesday 25th November
Wednesday 26th November
Thursday 27th November
Friday 28th November
Saturday 29th November
Sunday 30th November
Monday 1st December
Tuesday 2nd December
Wednesday 3rd December
Thursday 4th December
Friday 5th December
Saturday 6th December
Sunday 7th December
Monday 8th December
Monday 8th December
Tuesday 9th December
Wednesday 10th December
Thursday 13th December
Friday 12th December
Saturday 13th December
Sunday 14th December
CHRISTMAS DAY
Friday 25th December
Monday 22nd December
Monday 29th December
Tuesday 30th December
30th December cont.d
31st December (last day of the year)!! Thank God
DEDICATIONS
To my wonderful children Carly and
Michael, and their dad, Brian, for
keeping things together, my loving
mother and family, who all helped and
supported me through so many
difficult times
I dedicate this poem to my father.
An Ode to my Father
The Wood for the Trees
I am the elder, the stronger, the Patriarch in this forest.
The foundations of my strong roots, and the sap that seeps through my veins of branch, provide the nourishment for the newer life, allowing the beauty of the colours and fresh leaves to grow from my nurturing,
I provide the wood that builds, that burns, that grows … that weathers the storm, the icy blizzard and the harsh sunlight,
I am the Provider, I am the Protector… .
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Colin for
encouraging and mentoring me, and
believing in me, Michelle for all her
help, support, advice and valued time,
Alistair for his computing skills, and
all the staff at Meallmore Lodge
Nursing Home, Drumboe Suite, Daviot
for all their care and support
Also, John and everyone at
AuthorHouse
PREFACE
‘1 Split Second’, is a true and heartfelt story, of my life, before and after my life-changing accident, that left me paralysed from the top of my ribs down, in August 2003. My names, characters and places are written under aliases.
My story unfolds on the pages with events leading up to the time of my accident, then my long journey and experiences in hospital, recounting the memories.
Part One
THURSDAY 25TH SEPTEMBER 2003
That’s supposed to be today’s date, I lose track, but I know it’s exactly a month since that ‘fateful,’ ‘wicked’, ‘horrendous’, ‘unkind’ day of the accident. Oh god, I’ve only just started writing because it’s taken me exactly one month to get my head around what happened on the 25th August 2003, that Bank Holiday Monday!!
I have decided, whether it be in ‘my wisdom’, or otherwise, that I have to record some of what is going on around me, in my head, with my body and what has become, and will be my ‘reality’—my future. Even in the short space of time that has passed, I have been through an absolute spaghetti junction of emotions, physically and mentally, not knowing really what or who to recognise as ‘me’!
There is so much to write about, much of what all leads up to the accident and the subsequent outcome and circumstances—however or whatever way you try to make sense of it all you cannot.
In my own way, if I wanted to, I could see it as ‘punishment’, but I don’t really believe in that—I think of it more as a second chance at perhaps helping me to see the ‘good’ and ‘worthwhile’ person I can be, and, have in me—one that I can feel proud of—and for everyone whom I love and care about to see as well. If I rabbit on like this I will never get to the point.
At this moment in time, I can feel myself changing—changing not only because I have come to the realisation that without having to be told, I have lost the feeling of my lower limbs, which at first I thought was just because the toes had gone to sleep, and was perhaps happy to believe and think that. I don’t really remember being told different, although I’m sure I was at some point? I no doubt was told, inbetween seeing my family members and of course my husband and beautiful children there—and perhaps a more beautiful concept
would have been that if I was just there with my children I may have thought I was in heaven and that was a million miles away from the place I was in before I had woken. In my dreams I was hoping that I could be that ‘chrysalis’ turning into a butterfly! I think not!—although this was maybe going to be a chance for me to allow myself to drop the ‘mask’!
I have always been good at hiding behind my ‘mask’ and for a short spell was comfortable with me, only on the outside though, cause I had reached my size 8 and had a flat stomach to die for, which according to one of my sisters, I nearly did, because, if I had more weight on my bones, apparently, my injuries may have not been so bad!! ( Jesus, that made me feel a whole lot better—thanks for that Margie!).
So, I thought I was comfortable with me after 6 months at Viewfield (a place with a drink and drug rehabilitation programme), but every day was a fight both mentally and physically, and apart from the thought of my children, which was keeping me going, and using one redeeming feature, my looks, I carried on. Believe it or not, I am not conceited, but I would have been in the gutter long ago had it not been for the fact that I could charm my way out of situations, dangerous or otherwise, right up until that Monday 25th August, the Bank Holiday, when I was still ducking and diving, scuse the pun!, which literally got me to where I am now—broken back and spine, severe abrasions to my head, broken jaw, broken ribs, squashed diaphram, punctured lung, disclocated fingers and paralysed from the chest down and unbelievably resigned to the fact that I left a shitty, meaningless life (apart from my kids and mum) behind and maybe that was what gave me the ‘backbone’ to carry on with my life now and give it some purpose.
God, I really feel like I need to get all the ‘crap’ out of my head and get on with living (whatever that is). Even in 4 weeks I can see myself becoming crabit, irritable, demanding, short-tempered, ugly?, yup, keep picking at my face, the only part left clear after my accident and I have to spoil that! No-one has dared to comment on the huge red spot-like mark I have created on my face due to my inability to ‘stop pickin’!! I hate this and I hate myself and God forbid anybody to be where I am today, and that is not self-pity talking, that is because a lot of people could not handle this; I think I have determination—Addicts (see how they deserve the respect of a capital letter because of the lifetimes work it can take you to acknowledge and achieve), sorry, Addicts don’t do things by half, oh no, having an addiction can mean being, focused (at the start) and having an assertive mind, being good at planning, a knack for bending the truth, having an inner belief in the fact that you know better than anyone else and will not be told! So, I know I can focus 110% on rebuilding my life. Living has become my new addiction!! (or maybe I should say my other!), sorry I am gonna have to stop for the mo, my back is hurting, but hey, that’s good isn’t it, because at least I can actually feel something for real?! time for more morphine, yippee!!
Well its now Wednesday 26th September and I didn’t get back to my book (that’s what this is by the way, my lil old book)! Jo came in today with Al, her hubby—this seems to be taking the look of a diary of events? . . . . by the way, as usual I will no doubt slip into what I call my Ronnie Corbett Syndrome, and tell a story within a story, so keep up!—(actually exactly what I have done right now)—Jo, Yes!, I don’t know why exactly but I found myself feeling very irritable and the diazepam is supposed to calm me down, but I suppose it needs time to kick in, please God, before I kick Jo! (love ‘er really). Jo has visited me at night a few times—she seems a bit manic and on another planet, even ‘drugged’ almost! I hate to have these thoughts, but then, she admitted my expected fears that she had been caught drinking a quarter bottle of vodka (probs half, cause we normally play down the amount we have) whilst waiting to pick up her daughter Kim from ballet lessons! Fuck! Al saw her in the toilets. and her reason she gave me for her drinking was because she heard gossip that Al was having an affair!! Personally it wouldn’t surprise me but I have to be non-judgemental beause too many people love a bit of gossip and make their minds up about things without the facts. Anyway, Jo had to tell someone, and for some reason she chose me and I hope to think that’s cause she knows I’m not gonna judge her, which I haven’t, (just that lying cheating son-of-a-bitch of a hubby of hers—actually, I suppose he was there for her through rehab and brought the kids to see her, so sorry, maybe not soo bad). Anyway, she had to offload and I assured her we all have ‘blips’—even though I think it is more than that. Al obviously denied everything, using the old convenient excuse, “I stuck with you through rehab, why would I leave for another woman now??” . . . . indeed?
Jo was here last Friday, back on Monday and last night (Thursday). When she arrived she was talking rather strangely and trying to force Adam (her 10yr old son) to give ‘auntie juls’ a kiss… he was so uncomfortable and to be honest, Jo was getting on my nerves. Jo, being a nurse herself, found the courage (no doubt from the drink she had sneaked before she had come to see me or even had in her bag), from somewhere, to challenge the nurse about my caffeta (catheter) not being emptied and asking about making sure I was being looked after properly. She went over the top, but luckily Barry phoned, saved by my hubby, at least he is good for summit, even though his impromptu calls are not normally that well timed—normally it’s when I am doing summit I don’t want him interrupting, but that’s another story and not one that’s likely to have me ever worrying about him interrupting ever again! Then she kept making comments about my phone call and I had to ask her to go outside of the room!! God give me strength, I’ve got one pain in the neck at the other end of the phone and another at the end of the bed! Aah!! Barry and kids great! I apologised to Jo about what had just happened but it seemed to go over her head. I then noticed a huge scab and bruise at the side of her left eye… I got bad vibes… at first she said it happened on the Friday, but she had been in to see me and I knew it wasn’t there, so she just made the excuse that she was muddled up. In the end she seemed quite clear that when she left the hospital on friday she was tired, sat on her patio, smoked a few ciggies, got up, felt dizzy and fell!!! I don’t believe it! She was either drinking or got hurt in an argument—I hate to sound so definite and cynical, but this is a lady I went through 6 months of treatment with, got to know as a good friend and I can see right through the facade! Sorry Jo babes! Unfortunately I know what it’s like to be at the receiving end of someone’s violent disposition and a certain Pete springs to mind—wonder what that bastards up to anyway, as if I care—wait till he hears about my accident and I know he will cause he hears everything about me… he can’t stay out of my bloody business, even when he followed me all the way from Berrytown to Plymund by asking for a transfer from his work, he still wouldn’t take the hint, a massive 500 mile hint and knowing I was in rehab!? I didn’t want to know a womanising, sleazy, lying, conniving, cheating, jealous, posssessive and violent creep! Actually, he seemed quite nice at first—don’t they all? So, back to Jo. She was very jittery and I really think she is drinking and driving. She isn’t eating at all and she seems to be making an issue of it at the moment, i.e., sending out ‘sublime’ signals for help.
I was expecting Jo in tonight and she hasn’t arrived yet. Very unusual, she has never let me down once when she’s said she will be coming in—I’m gettin quite used to Jo making a ‘nursey’ fuss, cutting up my salad and checking my caffeta which I bloody hate! Oh, she just arrived!!
Well she seemed ok tonight, so lets give the subject a miss. She is trying hopelessly and so unconvincingly to make me believe that she is happy (and I didnt even ask!)—the lady doth protest too much me thinks. She seems to enjoy doing things for me and having our chats—she has no friends! Also, now I’m doing my usual, I can sort out everyone else’s problems… and being in that mindset asked her to phone Joan, my best buddie in Plymund, to make sure she was ok? One thing I have realised is that the words ‘best buddies’ and ‘love’ get brandished about too easily, especially in which ever AA or NA crowd
you happen to get involved with, or at worst, with both! Saying that, they were usually only used by us girls to get out of Viewfield (rehab) for the night, any excuse… some of the girls even went just to spend some time in male company and you would have thought they were going clubbing instead of an AA or NA(alcohol/narcotics) meeting.
Anyway, Joan has been a great buddie to me, what I would call a best buddie and genuine people are hard to find, and now I know, I’m careful… I even try to `vet` the docs, nurses and even agency nurses if I don’t know them, crazy! Anyway, I hope Joan gets in touch soon. My accident hit (scuse the pun, and it hit me harder, boom boom), her really bad and then something happened with Tammy (her close friend from Viewfield, in for drug taking since getting involved with a violent partner). Tammy had taken an overdose and phoned Joan to tell her what she had done! No wonder she feels depressed and is now craving—dangerous!!!!
Well, as for today, I do feel strong but I don’t want to get used to this bloody pain in my back and chest. Since Saturday last week I have felt like I have a metal plate pulled as tight as it can go round my bare chest under my breasts, and when I move it rubs against me like a huge `chinese burn`. Though I did see the pain doctor and he has given me `something` to see if it works. They have tried an ECG and VQ scan—whatever is wrong with me, noboby seems to know—good eh? Even my injuries from the accident couldn’t be straight forward; not just a broken back and spine, I had to go the full hog for the `extras`!
So, Angela, one of my lovely sisters, phoned today and got pissed off cause she couldn’t get through without a struggle, to the switchboard—oh dear, that’s her year spoilt! We talked for quite a long time. Angela and me get on really well and always have done. She talked a lot of sense and insisted I spoke to the Head Matron or a doctor!
I also spoke to my geordie pal, Toni and explained that it’s crazy that we don’t have a phone for people to phone in, especially relatives, and that something should be done—risking my back every time I try to move to use a stupid bloody pay-phone, that doesn’t take incoming calls!!!! Scream! I was really pissed off but kept my cool—the phone belongs to the High Dependency Unit! Jesus—so what the hell are we then!! AND just whose running the shop in this bloody place? . . . a bunch of friggin half-wits, thats who! I beat them with every stupid reason they came up with for us not having our own, but eventually we compromised by them agreeing that they let me use the phone at night to phone Barry and the kids, and in the morning to phone Mum!? lets see if it happens—it’s 8pm now and I asked for it at 6.30. I can wait… (only cause I’m gaining more ammo—smiley cocky face)!
One Split Second Page 1