Someone worse off than you

When I was in Intensive Care at Royal North Shore Hospital there were a couple of incidents I should put in the blog.  One was about a young guy from the North Coast who had been in ICU for a lot longer than me.  He was a national junior champion at motorcycle racing.  The word "was" is operative, because unfortunately, he had been flung from his bike and broken his neck.  I think he was seventeen, with the rest of his life in front of him, and now he was a quadriplegic.

He could not even move his hands, let alone the rest of his body.  Life was pretty depressing for him and it was evermore going to be.  His parents, and his younger sister were frequent visitors.  At ICU there are no restrictions on visiting hours, you can drop in to see relatives at three o'clock on the morning if you like, and these guys often did!  The only thing they did enforce was a two visitor per patient limit.  When my Aunty and Uncle dropped down from Brisbane with Mum & Dad, they were sort of tag-teaming it to get to see me two-at-a-time.

The young boy had a portable DVD player which they cranked up for him a lot of the time.  He was on nil-by-mouth for his own benefit, however his visitors seemed to have other ideas, and would smuggle him in food and water reasonably covertly, but I certainly managed to observe it.  A very common practice was to grab a disposable rubber glove (there were boxes of them everywhere), and fill it with water at the handwashing basin (all visitors were specifically requested to wash their hands), and bring it in for the young fellow.

They cared so much about him, there was nothing they wouldn't do - including bringing in takeaway food - which is really quite difficult to conceal given its pungency.  When I was finally about to be discharged and spent a few days actually outside near the main entrance foyer, I saw the young lad in a motorised wheelchair operated by his mouth with a joystick.  His Mum was with him as usual.  And he was propelling himself with determination to make the best of his lot.  His Mum was so proud of how far he'd come.  Mind you he still would have had many more months to spend in hospital, but the end was getting closer.

It all just goes to point out who an injury or illness effects the most.  Obviously the actual victim is affected, but it's possibly easier for them, as you know what you can and can't do, and eventually acceptance comes around.  But for the relatives, there's always the hope that maybe something CAN be done, and they should be doing it, or making sure it gets done, and worrying about it if they don't, and worrying about it if it doesn't work.  Plus they have to get from home to the hospital and back umpteen times - as the patient at least you're in residence.  The one good thing to you, the patient, however, is the feeling that it's your responsibility to get better.  If not for your own sake, at least for that of your visitors.  It certainly gave me something to hang on to.