So, during the lock down I envisaged that I would be able to spend more time concentrating on developing the lookmumonehand concept to see if an alternative employment / source of income can be driven. That focus on blogs, social media outreach and such like did slowly trickle along but not at the pace needed and thus not much transpired because of a multitude of aspects with one particular activity consuming the most time, cycling training itself.

 

 

April & May turned out to be a stunning cycling vocation and whilst June & July brought the familiar inconsistencies in the weather, I was able to mix road and turbo work to very good effect. The weekly schedule being a deliberate stepped path to the ‘Legro Zoom sessions’ on a Sat morning @10:00am where I would accept the challenge of pain and threshold development spikes needed to progress. Coupled with my additions of the Theragun & extensive use of the AMP Human lotion meaning that I was reaching levels of performance and fitness not seen, by my body, on a bike before.

 

 

 

Fast forward to Sun 9th Aug 2020 and that accumulation of guidance, road miles, extensive turbo work, effective active recovery, assisted intervention from nutrition, AMP lotion and extensive Theragun would come to an abrupt and painful pause.

Whilst out on a Sunday morning Victoria Cycling Club social ride to Hanningfield and back I managed to acquaint myself with a very extensive series of potholes in Maldon Road under a rural railway bridge. Not content with hitting one I unfortunately collected two and I detached myself from my bike as my front wheel went from underneath me and crashed with some force onto my left side… Left hip, leg & arm taking the brunt of the uneven and gravel laden road. As I hit the tarmac, I felt a searing burning pain dart across my pelvic region and then the sensation that parts of my arm & leg were donating skin in the name of friction. For those of you who have had crashes on bikes there does seem to be just two, very distinct, categories of awareness… 1) What the hell happened there…?… 2) The slow-motion effect where every aspect is remembered… This fall fell right into the lap of #2.

As my dynamic friction impacted motion came to a halt I knew immediately that I had managed to do something significant. How did I know that…? I was on the tarmac, under a rural railway bridge that has a condensed single lane going under it. It is on a blind bend and with me sprawled across was an open target for any vehicle coming through this way. My other VCC riders all detached from bikes and running to assist. The two guys behind me were lucky with full locks on brakes and one darting off towards established bushes. My immediate instinct is to get out of the road… problem…! My mind has requested my left leg to move and it is not responding. I shuffle, the best I can, on my back with me dragging my leg with my hand and with help manage to get onto the kerbside out of motor vehicle harm.

Time to compose myself… I was thinking to myself ‘come on, we’ve been through this type of uncertainty before, lets just run through a few checks’… Slowly I was able to assess, head, neck, arm function… tick. Sore, blood coming from a few places but function. Toes, ankles and feeling in lower limbs… tick. Then the not so good… Hip, leg movement… right side… tick. Left side nothing, plus add in awful searing heat feeling pain and I knew then that all my efforts over the previous couple of years are just about to go up in smoke. A few colleagues are asking, can you move…? Can you get back on the bike…? It could just be a heavy bruise…? I knew… a couple of the guys are Police Officers and they asked my thoughts and my immediate response is ‘ambulance’. After they made the call the information coming back is worse case a two-hour delay… ok, so I must manage this pain, stuck in a position that may or may not be impacting my condition.

My Victoria Cycling Club team mates just stepped up to the plate… outstanding. A couple of them attended to me. Sat with me, tried to make me as comfortable as possible. Another arranged for my bike to be picked up, others were taking pictures and photos of the scene and with others notifying traffic to go slowly.

I can only guess that we were about 20mins before my adrenalin started to subside and my body started to spasm in the left leg and cramp started to set into my left calf. The guys were massaging where they could. Luckily, the paramedics arrived… two wonderful female paramedics, I was administered morphine intravenously quite quickly, I was given gas and air when being moved off the kerb side onto boards and then onto the trolley. Being assessed in the ambulance my beloved and expensive Assos bib-shorts become a fashion consequence of this crash… scissors down the left £255 down the flush. Funnily one of the guys says don’t worry we’ll sponsor the purchase of a new pair…!!!! I was unaware of the condition of my bike, assuming cosmetic damage, it is a tough bike and been through my few crashes and escaped in better shape than me usually. Is this one too many crashes for its ageing frame…?

I am taken to Broomfield Hospital in Chelmsford and I manage to catch hold of my daughter saying that I am being taken there after a small crash. I did not want to over alarm her but the fact I was going to hospital probably not something you can sugar coat too much.

At Broomfield, the staff there were super quick, straight into X-Ray and then in for a CT scan, the Assos shorts this time completely cut to pieces… Lola was not allowed to visit nor see me at all. The only interaction is a swap of my cycling gear and fresh clothes and toiletries. I was on my own, in a side ward which was stifling hot… In bed I was being moved every 2 hours to avoid bed sores. I was put on an air mattress that very subtly changes the pressure points, had an operating gown only and such a lovely couple of nurses that looked after me. High doses of morphine making drifting between the sleep zone and consciousness easy to traverse.

Mon 10th Aug – As made comfortable as possible and the surgeon / doctors are advising that they have agreed that my injuries are significant, and that Addenbrooke Hospital in Cambridge has the appropriate specialisation and support to deal with my surgery needs. I have a fractured hip, the fracture the whole length of the hip, top to bottom, with the bottom piece entering my hip socket joint. The fracture itself is simple and clean, the length and placing the obvious issues. I have not a real clue what that all really meant, the consequences and surgery needed, but they were advising that a transfer could take a few days to arrange and my daughter was keeping everyone updated. Doctors advise that Cambridge can take me tomorrow… super quick considering.

Tues 11th Aug – Bed bath, pain management and just a waiting game. Late lunch time the paramedics arrive and the couple of female paramedics were super lovely. We were chatting away as they transferred me from ward to ambulance. Heavily morphine doses and we are on our way. Estimated 40mins journey and with the siren and lights flashing something that felt quicker and went through traffic easily.

Arrive at Cambridge late afternoon and we are in a queue to be transferred into A&E, it probably takes a few hours to go through this heavily COVID influenced process, but we were fine. Morphine on tap, chatting away. In A&E was visited by a couple of the Consultant Orthopaedic trauma team, the X-Ray & CT scans from Broomfield were conclusive so we run through the options, the risks, the likely outcomes. Arthritis as I aged is going to be a consequence of the life I have lived but my immediate focus is the here and now and the ability to walk properly, not to be dependent upon walking aids and general wellness. These guys know their stuff, I understand the legal needs to share the explicit risks and to firmly place the decision making onto the patient, but I have absolute blind trust in these guys. This is their speciality this is what they love to do and happy to sign a disclaimer that I let these skilled professionals rectify the mess I have caused to myself.

It was emphasised to me the complexity of the surgery required and that this meant possible delays in aligning the right surgeon and an appropriate theatre slot. Why would I not wait for the best…? I was comfortable with that decision, had got me head around being unusually patient for me and hoping to be completed by the end of the week. Well, I did not have to wait too long, a few hours later and they are advising Weds morning, first on the list, nil by mouth from there on in.

Weds 12th Aug– Stomach empty, mouth dry, on an intravenous drip to avoid dehydration, wheeled down to Operating theatre and that is where I was introduced to the whole operating team, all under the top guy Peter Hull. ‘We’ll have you back on the bike in no time’ was the reassuring conversation snippets, ‘be patient and understand that the process does take some time’.

I was down in theatre world for some 6 hours and coming out of the anaesthetic I was busting for a wee. These guys would not let me move until I passed something. For the love of life, I could not pass a drop into the bottle. Was it stage fright…? I tried to engage my muscles but nothing… Thereafter a further 20mins of total concentration, holding, pushing I managed to off load a ridiculously small amount. Enough to satisfy these guys and enough to supress the urge to go that I was feeling. Back onto the ward but that immediate need to pee returned. They performed an ultrasound on my bladder which registered that I needed to relieve 880ml of fluid and the restrictions on my muscle engagement stopping my functions from working. Known and expected consequences of the surgery, they had the solution… a catheter…! I thought these things we inserted during general anaesthetic, not on a conscious patient. OMG, do not let anyone tell you that this is not unpleasant… I pressed the self-hit driver morphine button beside me multiple times, I need morphine, morphine, morphine, a squirt of a numbing spray on your hole and bang this tube is being passed through my urine tract network final destination my bladder. I can still feel it now… The female nurses were great, but I have to say I did not care who was doing what and who was seeing what, this is just an awful procedure. As I lay there the connections did their jobs and I managed to fill bags at my pleasure. Wrong word, it was stinging, every move was tugging, I genuinely felt sorry for myself at this point. Cannot move, drips everywhere, dressings on left side, morphine on tap, a tube coming out a part of my body that is uncomfortable to say the least. Is Cycling worth it…? I guess the next 6 weeks of no weight bearing / walking is going to pop this question into my mind all too often and will test my mental resolve.

Happy 20th birthday to my amazing daughter Lola… her present from me..? The opportunity to be my primary carer for the next 6 weeks..! I will certainly owe her a huge hug & gift after all this. I am certainly putting her through the mill but as she says, “it wouldn’t be you otherwise”. 

Thurs 13th Aug– Many visits from consultants and much advice over the day. The sentiment was that surgery was a successful procedure. The fracture starting to heal, and the worse case of a series of plates avoided instead satisfied with screws and pins. My day is very morphine centric as you would expect and my first meeting with my physiotherapist, who was driving me to start thinking about movement and what is needed to be performed by me to allow my release. COVID 19 certainly impacting rehabilitation times in hospital. Unfortunately, at that time I was hooked up to a catheter (nasty thing), two cannular feeds, one hydration the other morphine driver. After I can ditch all these things then I have half a chance. I am moved wards to coincide with my COVID test returning a negative, so I have aligned to a ‘green’ ward instead of remaining on a ‘amber’ ward. The hospital is split and caters for the ‘red’ COVID infected cases. Eventually by the evening I am slowly released from my connection shackles and have some degree of freedom in movement.

I managed to eat a meal and two-hour blocks of sleep in between blood pressure, heart rate, oxygenation levels, blood supply checks and blood clot injections into the stomach. Oh yes, more blood tests to go along the way.

Fri 14th Aug– When I was moved ward the nurses were advised that the plan was for me to be discharged on Fri. I half knew this was the case but was not sure of what was needed, who would authorise and whether I could call Lola to come up and pick me up. The day started with two pieces of rubbery toast. Who makes toast rubbery…? If must be a skilled homed in these places, it is something I have known about since I was young and seems to have been passed down through the ages.

To this point I have been allowed to shuffle from my bed, allowed to transfer onto a commode, moved over the top of the on-ward bay toilet and allowed some dignity and returning my functions to some normality. Gravity helping, I can perform my #1 function, albeit having to concentrate hard and genuinely feeling the left side of my groin not wanting to participate in engagement. #2 activity has been very shy. I say this as I am usually a twice a day merchant and no issues at all. I envisage that I as I have eaten extraordinarily little that my body would not have processed wastage so not overly surprised at no surprise. I test a squeeze I get a sharp pain and there is no way I’ll be assuming crash positions and enjoying an easy evacuation ride… The nurses are managing my expectations… dehydration, conscious of so much opioid action and blockages are going to occur. So, hold these thoughts, there is a more horrific tale to share later but multiple laxatives are being administrated.

My senior physio arrives and is a very fair, dynamic, no-nonsense woman. If I am to be allowed home, I need to use crutches. The problem I have is the UK predominately are using elbow stabilisation crutches, which with my disability are about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit. The under-arm crutches are not readily available and a good look around for a pair that can cater for my height is needed.

Eventually a pair is found… well, they are 4 inches short but near enough. We sit and discuss I share my previous experiences and she is crystal clear that I must pass her test for her to sign the consent for discharge form. She grabs a wheelchair and wheels me off to the staircase… am left in the stair well whilst she returns for the crutches. She demonstrates what she wants to see, and I follow suite. Slow, deliberate, this is really testing my pain threshold, my ability to prove that my upper body can cope. I grit this one out with a false smile, I perform the up & down the stairs test and get a pass. Grateful for the pain suppressant in morphine, am not that steady sitting up / standing but I do know from experience things are the worst times now so soon after surgery and I will steadily improve day to day. If I can struggle through at this point, then I am more than capable to get through each day as it comes. I count my blessings that I am fit. That is not being arrogant, but a fact validated by the blood pressure and heart rating figures. I am complimented by the nurses, the surgeon and the physio on my fitness and muscle strength and that has genuinely impacted a) the decision to operate … b) the speed to which I am adapting… c) to this point that I am 36 hours post a complex pelvic operation and able to get up and down stairs on under arm crutches that don’t fit and with an arm that is being tested to the absolute limited.

The rest of the day is a long wait… Lola has been allowed onto the ward, the physio has passed my movement test, Surgeon has given the go ahead, I have the occupational therapist to agree and then the clinical / medication to be sorted. The occupational therapist has more tests for me… in & out of bed, moving to the toilet, ability to reach items around me.

Eventually we are passed to go, medication from pharmacy, enough morphine sulfate tablets for 14 days, plus a bottle of oral morphine (2.5ml shots) for that extra hit when struggling, 69 tablets of rivaroxaban 10mg that will thin the blood and ease the problematic possibility of blood clots after going from training every day to sitting / asleep the majority of the day. Lola wheelchairs me out to the Hospital wing entrance. She bolts off to get the car from the car park whilst I sit in the wheelchair watching the snapshot of the Cambridge hospital world go by. 50mins later we are home… recovery & rehab starts.

 

 

I am truly indebted to the NHS teams in Broomfield & Cambridge… everyone of of the team I encountered are driven to help people and it showed. Always smiling, positive, helpful, knowledgeable and you cannot do anything more than just admire who they are… I have stress tested the NHS from a very early age, I’ve probably incurred costs of well over a £million during those times, I have acquired many scars and now the fashionable titanium artefacts and each time these guys have supported me & my family… I cannot say much more than an emotional ‘I thank you… you are amazing’.