My Biography Page
1985 had seen me leave school just before my 17th birthday, and luckily find a place on an YTS (Youth Training Scheme). While on the YTS
I had found that I had enjoyed all the messing around with print machines, and that my skills were not too ham-fisted to achieve passable results.
Towards the end of my YTS, Thorn EMI for whom I was working informed most of us that they were probably not going to find permanent positions for
all of us. They suggested that we checked out possible avenues in the local job centres, and taking this advice I spent a couple of afternoons
searching through the options. I started to think that print jobs were very scarce after searching for ages in the Feltham job centre, so I asked
one on the staff if there were any positions which had not been put out for display. After a while she returned and told me that there were indeed
a couple of jobs, but asked if I had any concerns about working for the government?
I applied for both jobs, one being with the Post Office, the other within the Civil Service. I ended up being called for interview with both, but the Post Office interview was first. Smartly dressed and scratching at the uncomfortable tie around my neck, I turned up for the interview very nervously. All the candidates were shown into a room where we were asked to complete a aptitude test. The adjudicator implied that this was a very simple test and would not stretch most of us. Whether due to nerves or not, I made a complete hash of the test, and was informed by the adjudicator in a snotty tone that I was ‘Below average intelligence’, and that I would not be required to go any further. Now I’m the first to admit that I’m not a genius, but the attitude of this guy made me angry. Anyway, after this demoralising blow I went a little while latter for the interview with the Civil Service. Thankfully the interview went very well and I joined in September 1985, although at the time I thought this would just be for about eighteen months until I joined the Royal Air Force (RAF).
1986 was a bittersweet year for me. But now it was 1986, and it started really well with me having the opportunity to see Queen live at Wembley Stadium, then an outrageous eighteenth birthday party, and a few days later I flew off to sunny Ibiza on an 18-30’s holiday for two weeks. This was my first holiday on my own, away from my parents, and able to drink alcohol legally. As you can imagine I had a great time, but had to ring my Gran half way through the second week for extra money (it’s always amazed me how much money you get through when on a drinking spree). I never want to see Spanish champagne ever again! I was also swatting up on my numeracy and English so that I could achieve my ambition of entering the RAF.
Then, after just completing my probationary period at work on the Friday, I travelled up to Chalfont Heights Scout Camp to join the service crew for the weekend. This is where I had a diving accident, which has left me paralysed from the neck down. This accident started a chain of events that have been hard to overcome, but ultimately they have made me a stronger person. It was a brilliant hot Saturday afternoon, September 6th, when some of my friends and I who were on service crew, decided to cool off with a dip in the pool. I tried to dive through a tractor tyre inner tube that we were using as sun loungers…
THUD!Biography - The Stay in Hospital
As soon as I’d hit my head on the bottom I knew that there was something seriously wrong. I had a splitting headache and my hands were floating just a few inches from my face, but I couldn’t move them (by the way, don’t try to swear or scream if this happens, no one hears when your underwater!). After what seemed like a few seconds I passed out, but my brother and friends realised what had happened and fished me out onto the side. Luckily for me, all those friends had been trained in first aid, some through St John’s Ambulance, and their care for me at that point has meant that I am a whole lot better off than I could have been.
The next few days were a blur. I remember vague images and snapshots, which seemed to be from a bizarre play or movie. Only problem was they were all happening to me! Initially I was taken to Wexham Park Hospital in Slough, but they transferred me very quickly, as they saw that I needed specialist care and could not deal with my severe injuries. So, to Stoke Mandeville National Spinal Injuries Centre (NSIC) I headed. This began 12 months of intensive rehabilitation. I had broken my neck between the fifth and sixth cervical vertebrae, which had crushed the spinal cord when the bones had moved out of alignment. This level of break has left me with no feeling below my nipples, and only limited use of my arms. I cannot use my hands and I can’t use my triceps (these are the muscles that run down the back of the upper arm, and help with straightening the arm outwards), and this has made moving a wheelchair a tiring business.
The first low point I hit was just a few days after I had regained consciousness, when I rounded on my father and told him he’d got his wish. Hurt, he asked what I meant and I replied that there was no way now that I’d get into the RAF (this is one of the only times in life I have truly regretted my actions). Another low point of my rehabilitation was within those first 14 weeks, I was not allowed to wash my hair. This was because I had traction pins drilled into the surface of my skull, to hold my neck still while the bones healed themselves. As you can imagine, this was highly uncomfortable in the extreme.
Rehabilitation was a constant round of physiotherapy, hydrotherapy and occupational therapy. I quickly learned a simple fact of life though. If you were a
tetraplegic like me and couldn’t or wouldn’t do sports, then being at the NSIC was just going to give you the basics. I know this sounds hard and ungrateful, but there are some good reasons for my attitude. When I entered the NSIC they had in my opinion only recently been able to give
tetraplegics a better quality of life (read life past fifth to tenth year, and bladder and chest infections used to kill quite a few people until drugs and awareness of the help available improved). Up until then the NSIC had been set up after the war for sports being the best therapy for
paraplegics'. This doctrine was changing, and I was I guess at the middle of this process, but it has taken years to implement fully. I don’t know if the food has improved, but I hated it. I dread to think the amount of money I spent on takeaways!
I did have high and low points while in the NSIC, the darkest being when I contemplated suicide. I sat at the stairs at the end of the ward and thought “Why not, what the hell do I have to live for…” and I came to two conclusions;
1. The stairs were not that long, and if I had pushed myself off, there were no guarantees that I’d accomplish killing myself. I would have probably just ended up in a worse condition, and things were bad enough already.
2. I was eighteen. I had still a long and possibly eventful life ahead of me, and anyway, who gave me the right to extinguish a life.
I have always over-analysed things, and I guess this one stopped me doing something really stupid. It’s strange now that I look back on it, but this was the turning point in my life, and not the accident itself. From that point on I decided I was going to live life to the full, and so far everything has worked well for me. I also believe that becoming that low was in a funny way part of the healing process, and that I had to go through it and come out the other side.
I refused to have the anniversary of the accident held within the hospital walls. My parents had built an extension onto the back of their house, which was going to be my new bedroom. Although the fabric of the building work was finished it still needed carpets and a bed just a week before I came home. We managed to have the bed in place on the day I was released, but no carpet, three days short of the year (I can’t help but think of leaving the NSIC as a release. Not like a prison release, but the first real step back to a normal life).
Two days after release my parents and I went camping. I was now in the frame of mind I’ve tried to keep ever since; life’s too short, so make the most of it. This camping trip was a yearly ritual for my parents, which allowed them to catch up with all the gossip, news and new techniques for leaders within Scouting. It is only open to those leaders who have gained the Wood Badge, which is the training award for Scout leaders, and both my parents hold the award. It was a great weekend, and the first normal thing I’d really done.
Biography - Beyond life in hospital
Once home it took me a surprising while to get my life back onto some form of a natural footing. I spent quite a long time looking for things that, as a wheelchair user I could achieve. This was also so I could now find something that I could do that would get me back to work. After living on benefits for even a short time I realised this was not for me, and although not the most industrious person in the world, the inactivity of sitting at home was driving me nuts.
I decided that after a few attempts at using a computer while in hospital, that this avenue seemed to hold the most promise. I started the long road back to full time work by buying an Amstrad 1512 personal computer to learn on. At the time this seemed like the best PC money could buy, but looking back it seems so dated now. After playing a few games, and trying to teach myself how to type, my Disability Resettlement Officer (DRO) suggested that I formerly get checked out on what I could and couldn't achieve using a computer. With this in mind he set me up with an assessment at Woodleigh, a specialist training centre for those with disabilities. Unfortunately this centre no longer exists, and in my opinion the disabled community in the general London/Surrey area has lost a great resource. The outcome of my assessment was that although still very weak, and with little stamina, my ability to learn computer technology was not in question.
Woodleigh's advice was two fold;
- Increase my general strength and stamina.
- Start back to work part time as soon as was possible.
This was exactly the impetuous I required. Since then I have carved out a career in the civil service and made sure that I have given as much as I can, and I have been lucky in that the civil service has helped me 100% of the way.
Over the 20 years since my accident I've lived life to the full. This has included getting married, divorced and many other highs and lows in between. Would I change my life and go back to where I was at 18? Tough question and the short answer is that I have learnt a lot about life since breaking my neck, and if I could have that knowledge and be able to walk again then yes, otherwise I'll continue on the road I took: for better or worse it is my journey and teaches me new things every several day.