My latest (mis)adventure

I don't recall much of the accident.

My last recollections are those of jumping my horse Daffyd over a course in preparation for the next day's show jumping competition followed by Leli, the stable owner, cradling my head and telling me not to worry as the ambulance was on its way.

Ambulance I think? Why? Then I recall that there was a fall somewhere in between. But how fast were they to call an ambulance, it is only a fall, not my first. Then the realisation, that this might be more serious than I'd like to think, sinks in.

The pain in my head and the nausea are unbearable. My first reaction is to see what degree of mobility I have. I have heard of too many accidents not to be aware of the potential hazards. Thankfully I can move although Tommy, my instructor, and Leli are begging me to stay still.

I ask if my horse is fine and when I am told he is I am relieved. One less thing to worry about but I can't help thinking that this will be a huge setback on my riding experience since potentially I could lose my nerve and give up riding altogether.

I can hear the ambulance from a distance, well perhaps not such a distance after all as soon after I can hear a doctor asking me what happened, my name etc. My rescue training skills come back to mind when the doctor starts explaining the procedure, what kind of treatment they are giving – just as though a spinal injury has taken place. I know its procedure but still I get a bit worried.

All this has made me tired and want to sleep. Jenny, a fellow rider at the stables has taken the trip on the ambulance with me, tries to keep me awake by constantly calling my name.

I hear a siren, is there another ambulance in the vicinity I wonder? It isn't the case. It is the ambulance I am in being transported in. I feel very disoriented and confused. I try remembering Conrad's number but no luck, I have to ask the guys to take my phone, which I left in my tack room, to call him and advise him. I would have preferred speaking to him myself but I had no choice.

Arriving at the Emergency department, I feel very relieved when I see Herta, Conrad's sister, waiting for me. Such a friendly and familiar face is very reassuring. A doctor comes in to assess the situation, I know him slightly. He asks me how I am feeling ....to which I dryly reply that I have seen better days. He asks me what happened but I don't remember much. Jenny fills him in following the account that Tommy gave her prior to leaving for hospital.

Conrad arrives, I guess he is relieved to see me alive following Tommy's call. I hear his voice, muffled but very concerned. He patiently waits next to me, holding my hand till it is time for an X-Ray and CT scan. Apparently it took quite some time till it was my turn but I don't realise this. I am lucky the CT scan shows a slight brain haemorrhage but no fractures. The doctor says I am very blessed as it could have been worse....much worse.

As is normal procedure I have to stay in hospital under observation for at least 24 hours. Since there has been a head injury, I cannot eat or drink as it might induce vomiting and that could be dangerous to the brain. I am given an intravenous drip which is very uncomfortable but at least the straps and the spinal board are finally removed. They were very uncomfortable, making me feel very claustrophobic....a feeling that I am normally oblivious to!

The next couple of hours are hazy. I only start to focus a bit when friends start coming to see me during the hospital's strict visiting hours routine. Although I try to set their mind at rest by trying to look wide awake and smiling, in reality I am very tired and feel like a zombie. The pain in my head won't go away and finally I fall asleep even before some of them leave.

Thankfully I manage to sleep at night and if it was the case that I was being woken up at regular intervals, this procedure did not affect me. What affected me was the wake up call at 5am – what a rude awakening. Hospital staff start shouting orders and moving objects around as if it were midday. The cherry on the cake was the religious chanting of an old lady, two beds away from me....the double portion was the nurse joining her chants at the top of her voice I felt like chanting a chain of expletives but where would have that taken me? Nowhere!

To my joy I am discharged a few hours later, with strict instructions to rest and take things easy for the next couple of weeks.

I am now resting at home. A slow steady progress towards getting back to my hectic lifestyle. This (mis)adventure has taught me, if anything, that it is during these times you will (1) realise what is really important and (2) who your real friends are.

Having 600 friends on Facebook or on your contacts list doesn't really mean anything if they are just there to add up the numbers.....it is those few friends, who regularly check on you, whether by means of a phone call, SMS, email, message or visit, to make sure that you are still alive, to see if you need anything, to make you smile if you are sad and need cheering up, are those that really matter.

This blog post is dedicated to all those friends who cared.

You don't know how much you mean to me!