A surgical saga, pt. 2

I will get to the joys of the rehabilitation centre soon enough, but I’m just going to open today’s entry with a quote from the diary that my mum wrote at the time of the accident:


The Glasgow Coma Scale (G.C.S)

Darling when a patient has suffered a major trauma (or poly trauma as they referred to it), on admittance they are assessed by the Trauma Consultant (or actually they already have been by the paramedic at the pick-up point ) at the hospital.

We are all a 15 when fit and healthy and the lowest you can register is 3. Below this, with no vital signs, you are no longer here.

You measured a 3.”


This is a wee snapshot into life this time last year for my parents and I. (I say my parents and I, but, as we have established, I wasn’t really there!)

To say that I have been lucky would be a crippling understatement;

At one stage they didn’t know if I would ever come around, and thought that if I did come around I could be severely brain damaged; at another stage they thought that I may never walk again; and finally – and probably worst of all – they even thought at one stage that I may have been blind – can you imagine any of these scenarios ??


When you consider all the possible eventualities I think that it’s quite clear that Lady Luck was smiling down on me. Either that or I have a guardian Angel or whatever you want to call it, but there is something going on here! We, as a family, like to think that it was my grandmother’s final act of love for us…

That’s a heartwarming thought wouldn’t you say?



Published by luckiestmanalive1

Internationally-minded English journalist.

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