Blog 91 Remembering my horrific motorcycling accident
On the evening of 7 June 2010, I was being pursued on my 1100cc Moto Guzzi Breva around Suffolk
lanes by a RoSPA observer who would pass comment on my ride. However, events shifted because I blacked out whilst approaching a tight left-hand bend, hit a grass verge, and flew with serene motocross elegance into a potato field. Upon landing I was alert enough to mention to my observer that his debrief was perhaps not necessary! He smiled wryly, then kept me talking and organised a blue-light trip to West Suffolk Hospital at Bury St Edmunds.
No bones were broken, and the extensive soft tissue damage in my legs recovered satisfactorily. A stick replaced crutches, and morale soared until, a few weeks later, I started having problems with walking, talking and writing. Also, basic guitar chords became awkward. But when my usually neat handwriting became childish scrawl, and I took a whole morning to write a tender sentiment to my wife Anne for our Anniversary, it was clear that something was wrong.
By next morning Anne was hugely concerned about my decline through the night, so at 8.00 am on 19 July 2010, exactly 6 weeks after the accident, she telephoned our GP whilst I continued to drift in and around consciousness. He arrived about 15 minutes later and asked me a few simple questions which I was unable to answer. His clinical use of the phrase “Off The Boil” described my demeanour exactly and necessitated another blue-light journey. This time to Addenbrooke’s Hospital, Cambridge.
By now it was late morning and following triage I was taken for an MRI scan, then returned to a different holding area. After a while a white coat with a stethoscope told us that it was necessary to drill holes into my skull to remove collections of blood (subdural haematomas) that were pressing on my brain. The procedure was booked for early evening. But as it happened, there had been a nasty shooting in Norfolk and hospital schedules were abruptly changed. I was therefore monitored whilst slipping further into unconsciousness. Eventually going to theatre 48 hours later.
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I remember dreaming about one of the nurses as I came round post-op. I was explaining to her the fun I have on motorcycles and when I opened my eyes, she was there. She was delighted to see me awake.
Note blood in space between skull and brain on left.
Second image shows post op appearance with blood removed and 4 access points in skull
Alertness followed. I discovered four drain tubes poking out of my newly shaved head. They were
taking blood and fluid to pouches laying on the bed. Looking around at folks in the ward, I asked and tried to remember their names. This was the first stage in my plan to get my brain cells re-connecting. The next stage was to enquire the names of anyone who visited me, whether cleaner, nurse or any grade of doctor and introduce them to my new chums. Tedious for them, but I figured essential to my cerebral recovery. The notion of doing this just popped into my head as I surfaced from anaesthesia.
Speech was back immediately, and I was processing well enough to be able to embellish my answer to standard questions by a visiting white coat. Namely, that the Prime Minister was David Cameron, and he was managing a coalition Government with his new, if
unexpected, co-worker, Nick Clegg. Motor-coordination also returned. I made notes about my
progress, indeed I still have them, and the calligraphy is fairly neat. Apparently, as well as learning ward routines, I was getting used to my drains and the urinary catheter. But, unsurprisingly, I had a sore head. The drains were removed 24ish hours post-op, and I was discharged on 23 July 2010, followed by clinic visits which terminated in January 2011.
My guitar skills improved. But a step-change opportunity triggered when I noticed an advert pinned on my barber’s notice board. A rhythm guitarist was needed for a local country band. They were prepared to take someone without experience, which seemed a good reason to apply because I had never played in a band.
I made the call, got recruited and found some new friends. They didn’t know my history, or that the discipline of playing alongside them would assist my ongoing cerebral therapy. It is perhaps the case that performing for folks who have paid to listen to your music galvanises concentration! Anyway - Music has been my salvation. It continues to challenge, and I relish every moment of the journey it provides.
This
story was submitted by Ian Garmston from Newmarket.
Medical Note
Subdural haematoma is an important diagnosis to remember. It is completely curable yet easily overlooked as the trauma causing it can be far less memorable than in this case and the symptoms of confusion easily mistaken for other conditions.
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