…or so they say, but, in reality, it doesn’t.
4 years ago today, 18th October, this was me. In the Orthopedic ward at St George Hospital. My day had started pretty much as it usually does when I don’t get a call for school. Prepare breakfast, See Helena off to work and then get the chores done. About lunch time I had finished the urgent stuff and figured I would go up to the Pie Shop for a pie and a cuppa. I didn’t make it. At about 1/4 distance up Macquarie Pass I rounded a climbing right hand corner and ran into the bull bar of a cement-carrying trailer tanker which was heading down the Pass and was on my side of the road.
When I woke up I was conscious of the fact that I was lying down, but, being disoriented, it didn’t occur to me why this should be so. I sat up and tried to stand only to look down and see that my right leg was pointing 90 degrees away from where it should be and hearing a voice saying, “You’d better lie down, mate.” I stared upwards through the canopy of leaves and it gradually occurred to me that I must have had an accident and that I was actually lying on the road. From hereon in I drifted in and out of consciousness while being sort of conscious of all sorts of activity around me. I remember hearing someone saying, “The helicopter is waiting down the bottom.” but I don’t remember being put into the ambulance and being driven back down there. I remember being strapped onto a stretcher immediately below the rotor and the uncomfortable flight from Wollongong to Sydney. I recall wondering why they were bypassing Wollongong Hospital because it, too, has a heliport and I only found out much later that they took me to St George because that is where the serious orthopedic cases are taken.
At this stage, apart from knowing that I had obviously broken my leg, I had no idea of what any other injuries might be. I presume that I was bombed out of my brain with pain-killers by this stage because the pain was much less than what I presumed it should be. Not long after I arrived in A&E my concerned (frantic) wife arrived and tried to comfort me without looking like she was freaking out (which she was). I had my right leg encased in some sort of splint, likewise my right arm and a huge collar was around my neck.
As nurses and doctors hustled around, I began to experience what was to become a constant feature of being in hospital. The constant asking for your full name and date of birth (to ensure that they are treating the correct patient). For the next few hours I was prodded and questioned, mainly about did I have any back pain (no), did I have any neck pain (no), was I experiencing pins and needles in my feet and hands (no) and how come had I had such a massive accident and only sustained what appeared to be a large number of fractures (All The Gear, All The Time). To say that the attending staff was amazed that I had no internal injuries, no abrasion injuries (no bleeding of any kind except for the gash on my forehead where the paramedics had incorrectly removed my flip-front helmet), no head, spinal and neck injuries is an understatement.
I had been wearing Falco boots, Dragging jeans, Rjays textile jacket, separate back protector under the jacket, proper gloves, and my Nolan N102 helmet. However, while that sort of gear will protect you from most abrasion and falling-off type injuries, no amount of gear will protect you from impact injuries and my list was long. My femur was snapped off above the knee. It was also snapped off at the ball inside the pelvis. My kneecap was smashed into a multitude of pieces and the radius in my right arm was also snapped. Further xrays and tests also showed that my shoulder blade was broken in 5 places and that I had four broken ribs, all of these injuries being on the right side of my body.
Despite this, I was relatively comfortable a combination of drugs (of course) and the adrenaline helping to mask the pain. I was certainly chipper enough to enquire from my wife if the wild night of passion that I had promised her that night was off the menu, much to her embarrassment and the amusement of the nurses gathered around. 🙂
Next the specialist arrived and asked me the same questions (again) and then started dictating to one of his acolytes a spare parts list of bits that he was going to need when they operated the next morning. Eventually, I was taken to a ward where I spent an excruciating night with an air mattress that was constantly deflating and the “magic button” to self-administer morphine failing to operate properly.
Here I must state that my confusion and lack of knowledge probably stemmed from the fact that I had, to that stage, spent only one night in hospital (suspected kidney stone) in my whole 61 years. It also stemmed from the fact that, up to that day, I had had 37 1/2 years of road riding and had never failed to bring the bike home safely in that time, so the whole experience was completely new and confusing to me.
After an agonising night, I was operated on at 0600 on Tuesday morning and awoke sometime later that day trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. My right arm was splinted, my left leg likewise, I was attached to a maze of wires and tubes the purpose of which would become apparent to me as time went by. Mostly, though, I felt a complete loss of independence. Here I was, who had always done everything for himself, suddenly unable to carry out the simplest of tasks without a massive amount of assistance. It was this loss of independence that I found most difficult. I have always had a very high threshold of pain (probably from having a lot of dental work done during my teen age without the benefit of anaesthetic) and I soon found that I could cut back on the amount of pain-killers the staff thought that I should have. The nights, however, were the hardest, as anyone who has spent any time in hospital will agree.
My life was completely turned upside down. As the memory of the accident started coming back to me, I began to realise just how incredibly fortunate I was and a deep feeling of gratitude set in. Despite the pain, the discomfort, the difficulties and the thought of a very protracted period of recovery, I could bear that all with the knowledge that, even though I was beaten up, I was still alive. That aspect has not changed despite the passage of time.
Black Beauty II, my gorgeous VFR, was trash and I never saw it again. The best bike I have ever owned, I still get a bit misty when I see a black one pass by (rarely, as the colour wasn’t common).
My wonderful wife and my family were my rock and my constant encouragement. I can never repay them for what they went through after the accident and in the months and years that have transpired since then. Nor can I ever say how grateful I am to my motorcycling family who stuck with me, supported me, visited me and encouraged me throughout that time. I’ve said it many times before and will continue to do so, NO-ONE looks after their mates like motorcyclists do.
Fast forward to today. My life is as normal as it is going to be. I still experience nearly constant pain (sometimes worse than at others) and I have restrictions on what I can do now compared to what I could do before. I am a much more careful rider than what I was (though those who rode with me will attest that I always WAS a careful rider) and I ride less than what I used to as pain and discomfort restricts me considerably.
I have learned many lessons in the last 4 years, some of them I knew before theoretically but not in practice and some of them are brand new. But mostly I have learned to value life, even more than I did before.
Time doesn’t fly. The last four years seem to have taken forever, but I’ll take that, because the alternative doesn’t even bear thinking about.
dunc says
4 years ago wow
can remember reading /hearing when it happened
even if there are a few little problems now in the big picture they are trivial to the alternatives as stated
hows the travel going or are you back
Phil Hall says
Thanks, mate. I am now back from my travelling. Two trips to Queensland in two weeks, what was I THINKING?
jeffb says
Geez,Phil! Having not seen you write in your blog for a bit then open up and see you front and centre in a hospital bed gave me a bit of a ‘start’!Glad you were only reflecting.Stay well and will catch you soon. Jeff
Phil Hall says
Sorry, mate, hadn’t even considered that. Catch you soon.