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Part 2... Chapter 8.... 2007

22/11/2016

Happy Dayzzz…. Rookwood has a bed with my name on it, so I shall be leaving the room that I’ve become a part of, and hopefully I’ve left positive vibes within its walls for the next patient.
I’ve been lying flat on my back for almost 9 weeks, (and I've not made a penny lol) taking out that one strange but positive day of sitting up in a chair. My bones have had plenty of time to heal and fuse together, but one of the wires holding the “Hartshill Rectangle”, in my lumbar region has come loose, but should be fine so they say.

I’ve been awake since early dawn watching my little winged friends outside the window flying off to begin their day. I’m feeling excitement and slight anxiety about Rookwood. I think it’s mainly because I’ll be on a ward and not in my own room. Plus, it’s the second transition of being a paraplegic I guess. There is nothing more they can do for me now here at Morriston. It’s time to move on to stage two. Rehabilitation.

A lot of praise has been given regarding Rookwood’s Spinal Cord Unit. It’s run like the Army, one nurse informed me. “No slacking or ya out. They are very strict with physio, you’ll either love it or hate it there Amanda”, her words, she continued, “so you should fit in well”. “Should”. What was that supposed to mean??? She doesn’t know Me, apart from being a paralysed patient with a working brain and a mouth to match. So, I answer. “I’ll fit in where ever they send me, I got no fuking choice. It sounds more like boot camp to me”. My tone with her when saying this was a bit off, granted, but it was better than telling her to fuk off. I was trying to be a bit more mindful, and I just wasn’t in the mood for her today.

I’ll be leaving here in two days, so it’s time to start packing up my belongings…. While we were doing so, out of the blue my daughter asked me if I missed smoking a joint, and you know what, I couldn’t even remember that I did smoke da herb. After that memory relapse, shock turned into laughter, as I remembered telling my partner to roll me a rollie when I came out of the coma. Anyway, I told her I didn’t miss it. I hadn’t given it a thought until then because she had mentioned it ;-).
Even memories of ritual joint making have been banished from the banks, all because of that bump on the head. I don’t know what I can’t remember until someone asks me if I remember, this or that, place or person, laughs, pranks, jokes and party’s…. I wonder if I’ll remember the people I don’t like. Ooo, now that is a memory I don’t want to have lost forever lol. Hmmm….

Good Morning Swansea.
The sun is shining because today is Rookwood day. Wednesday 19th September has finally arrived, and I’m outta here.
All my stuff has been shoved into suitcases, and they are piled up on the chair ready to go. The walls in my room now look bare after all the cards, photos, hanging mobiles and posters have been taken down and it feels cold, waiting for its next chapter of existence and use.
I’m not going to miss much here, apart from my birdy friends outside my window that have saved my sanity, without even knowing.
I will miss the porters to, they have been a great laugh when pushing me in my bed on rolling squeaky wheels in and out of the lift, to and from one x-ray room to another. Parking my bed in the corridors next to somebody else in the head to toe waiting que for the same procedure. Some telling me jokes and stories as a Crowley’s customer, and others just being good funny company rolling me along the corridors of the hospital.
It’s the afternoon now and I need to pack up my pen and diary. Two of the porters are here standing over me waiting to escort me to the ambulance, that’s awaiting in the bay at the main entrance. I’ll meet my daughter and partner at Rookwood. They are taking all my stuff.

“Good Bye Morriston Hospital, and Staff. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for everything you have done in saving my life. Putting up with me on my off days. Allowing me to play loud music and stink the ward out with Patchouli and incense, to mask the smell of you know what ;-). As much as I won’t miss being here, I’ll never forget you. 19th September 2007 ;-) x. Amanda”.
That is what I wrote on a piece of paper and left in the bed side cabinet.

Rookwood Hospital, Llandaff, Cardiff.
Hello thoughts, it hasn’t taken you long to instigate putting a pen in my hand. There were a lot of good bye wishes of luck for the future with hugs from the nurses at Morriston, the people that make the NHS, and now I’m here in Rookwood’s Spinal Cord Injury Unit, and it’s sooo noisy.
I am instantly not happy with this, but alas the wheels are set in motion and it’s time for stage two to commence.
I was lying almost flat on the bed when they rolled me out of the ambulance and onto the spinal ward, so it was hard for me to see which way was in. Not only that but I had all these new faces looking over and down at me as I'm looking up at them, saying hello while I was being checked in. God it’s so loud, it’s driving me mad. "you’ll either love it or hate it there Amanda”. Now I know why she said that...

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Part 2.... Chapter 7.... 2007

17/11/2016

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Ok, you got me. In a chair and have my full attention, so can I please have yours…. This is what I want to say to my main Consultant Mr Bad to the Bone. I don’t want everyone to be my friend, but I do want him and everyone at this hospital to know this about me. I will always try to say goodbye to pain and I will always try to find the strength within my will power to keep my identity and my awareness of all the new trials and tribulations that lay ahead.
Mr Bad to the Bone is a tall slim man with short hair, maybe in his late 50s, with a very up tight stern doctor manner about him. I can see how he could come across as very intimating to a lot of patience. He doesn’t explain to well and give you the time to understand what he’s telling you when talking about your condition.

He reminds me of the cartoon called The Road Runner, where the coyote tries to catch a very fast bird. In our case, Mr Bad to the Bone is the road runner and I’m the coyote with no success of ever catching up with his words. Until I swear and get his attention.
Apart from my body being weak my mind is altogether in full working order and when I want answers to medical questions I want them in layman’s terms. You know, to understand them in easy style then ask someone to do some research before I pick up the conversation where we had left it.

I do like him though. I like somebody with character, cheek and charm and he has all three. So, I had to rename him Mr Bad to the Bone after he commented on the song covered by ZZ Top that I had playing when he was on his rounds. He zoomed in and out of my room like a jack in the box, popping up when you least expect it.

He started to say something when without warning he just stood there franticly rubbing his nose then swiftly left the room. The head nurse looked as bemused as me as I raise my arms up in the air and said “See what I mean. What was that about”. See looked over her shoulder and noticed the oil burner and said that was the reason.
Well, fuking hell hahaa. His nose seems to prefer the aroma of shite on the ward than aromatherapy oils. Men!

I say my mind is in full working order and I thank the stars for that, because my daughter has told me that when Mr Bad to the Bone advised her and her dad it was time to reduce the medication of the induced coma. They were told I may wake up with permanent brain damage.
I have no recollection of what I was saying over the days of coming back into the world of reality. So here are a few sentences I "apparently" blurred out ;-).
I say "apparently" because my subconscious mind has no memory of it ever being said, hahaa.

After the tracheostomy tube was removed, my voice returned before my brain and visual faculties ;-). This is what I said, are you ready, here we go….

“My voice sounds like I’m Japanese. I don’t like it. It’s too expensive” ….

I often wonder what that was supposed to mean. Especially as her dad is Chinese and not Japanese ;-).

As soon as my daughter walked into the ICU I say….

“OMG! Your taking cocaine” ….
Why I would say that is very baffling.

“Where are my fuking joints. They are at the bottom of the bed (daughters name) I made two, so don’t tell me they’re not there” ….

Now that I can totally understand ;-)

“I don’t want coffee; I want champagne and chocolate, champagne, now” ….

Again, I can totally see me saying that ;-)

ICU nurses were saying “Come on Amanda, you want to watch (daughters name) grow up, get married and have kids” ….

My response:
“No. She’s not having kids”.
Why did I say that? How strange ;-(….

As my daughter walks in I say, “Close that window”. She answers, “It’s closed mum”.

I reply, “It fuking ain’t, do it, it’s going to fall on me. Do it or fuk off” ….
I find this outburst very strange. Was there something in my mind relating to my fall, regarding the window? which by the way the ICU didn’t have a window. I was later told.

“What’s that on your head? Can you see it? There’s a light on your forehead! Never mind it’s gone now”.

When my daughter told me this one it made me laugh so much it hurt. Everybody knew I was coming back to life, slowly but surely in my own special way ;-).

I said.
“OMG! What’s that? There’s a giant pint glass as tall as you (daughters name) right there, and there, and there. They are everywhere”.

Hallucinations, brain damage or both? That was the big question…. The brain, the thinking mind, the spirit and the soul’s sense of knowing and coming back to the surface of being, does it all by itself when the time is right.

I should be going to Rookwood Hospital in Cardiff soon, so they keep telling me. It’s all about bed availability at the Spinal Cord Rehabilitation Unit. All I know is that my body is asking me to start moving and I’m more ready now than I’ll ever be to try and put that in to practice ;-)

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Part 2.... Chapter 6.... 2007

2/11/2016

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It was time to reopen Crowley’s a few week ago. I’ve got my daughter running the place with the help of friends, and the support of loyal customers. She is having to phone me on occasion when some drunk on a mission to break the rules, is hoping to get away with it as I’m not there. Not listening to her but taking the piss. You know, looking down on her like she is too small and weak to give orders and keep order in a public house. So everyone is happy having a good time with no trouble.

After a few chosen words from me on what she needs to execute to gain submission of the cheeky fuk or fuks. Things settle down and it’s all put to right.
She soon learnt how to gain control of the situation and respect from the players. When the cat is away the mice will play, so the saying goes. But while this cat is away she has left a little kitten that quickly grew up into a bigger cat that took no prey to be kept alive. She learnt from the best, and it hasn't taken long for customers to notice how alike her mother she can be if the need arise.… I’m so proud of my little leader ;-)

I’m keeping up to date with both businesses. I’ve got a mobile with me now so I ring all the time, probably getting right on their nerves ;-).
I’m also doing the accounts, paying the bills and stock ordering from my hospital bed. I’m starting to feel alive again with a purpose to live and take control of what I haven’t lost. My determination, adaptability, but most importantly my livelihood.

Apart from running the club and pub from my bed. I’m also sanding down a handmade wooden statue of a Norse God that my Viking friend has made for me, and another the same but as a pendent. And of course, being the ward DJ I’m in high demand ;-).
I’ve filed my long nails and painted them red and black, super sexy. It goes well with my pirate eye patch, tattoos and shaved head. I’m liking my new look ;-)

I’m still hearing stories about the goings on within the outside world of reality. A certain bank has stopped people taking their money out and has closed its doors. It’s got itself into a bit of a financial mess, so decided to take the customers cash to bail themselves out. Cheeky fukers. You should never trust a bank with ya savings. The parents of a British child that was kidnapped in Portugal are being questioned, what’s going on there then, and the bad weather causing tornadoes across the country. This summer hasn’t been great and it looks like winter is going to be even worse this year.

But on a brighter note, DJ’s have been dedicating music to me. Played in support of my recovery at a student’s nightclub called Sin City. With a great vibe, all captured on video. When I saw it, I couldn’t believe it. I felt “special” hahaa ;-) to those who were pissed - I helped them many a time get to that stage - regular customers of Crowley’s and The Office remembering me. The same to all the other dancing head bangers who were also well pissed, didn’t have a clue who I was, but joined in anyway. Singing to the chorus of Crazy Bitch by Buck Cherry. It was great to watch.

Customer’s at Crowley’s sang Black Sabbaths Mr Crowley, which is the anthem to my little Amsterdam look alike club/bar. I remembered it being the last song played by the DJ on the opening night of July 1st 2005, hence why and how it became one of Crowley’s anthem.

It’s late now. It’s past 2 am. Silence on the ward has been broken with of the sounds of people snoring and sleep farting. So loud I can hear it even with my room door closed. I give a giggle because it sounds like a croaky chorus, hahaa.

There are a few voices I recognise without the face. Older folk with dementia, yelling out for the nurse or a name of some family member perhaps, I don’t know. All I know is that I hear them night after night. I can hear the confusion and emotion in their voices as they call out, continuously ringing the buzzer or they go for a wander in search of who knows what. I hear the nurse reassuring them of who and where they are as they pass my room and taken back to their bed. It’s so sad :-(

Nurses do have a hard and difficult job. Caring, assisting and collectively working together for every individual need each patient has. It’s all tightly squeezed into a 24/7-time frame. They then go home to their reality. As a patient we forget to think they have one.

I’ve been doing a little light Physical therapy. The physio’ have helped me sit up for the first time in months and sitting on the side of the bed trying to control balance, doesn’t work. We’ve had a few laughs and they keep encouraging me and saying I’m doing well so I have asked if I can sit up in a chair. My body is restless now and I want to move, somehow I need to be in a different position. The Physio’ are going to ask about a chair and get back to me on that one. I’m counting the hours, minutes and seconds rather than the days and still I'm waiting for an answer.
I’m getting impatient now and I want answers and action on a lot of questions and requests, but it’s all about the wait…. …. ….
I’m still waiting so I’ve refused to cooperate with any more physio until I get a chair…. …. …. Yes, I know... I'm in spoiled brat mode.

They brought in a chair today, a wheel chair on a strange angle and no big wheels to push myself around in but it’s a chair nonetheless…. I was so excited, the child within came out to play.
Wow, fucking wow…. What a strange feeling it was getting onto and sitting in a chair ;-) a strange thing to say I know, but I wasn’t paralysed the last time I sat in a chair.
I can only feel the chairs back rest on my back shoulders, my arse, back and legs haven’t got a fuking clue what they're sitting on ;-)….

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