Death is only the beginning

I first set up this blog in the weeks following Lauren’s accident so that she could share her story and the highs & lows that comes as a result of being told you can no longer walk at the age of 24. I never thought in a million years that I would be writing another blog entry (unless of course Lauren got too lazy to write herself & asked me to on her behalf) but sadly I am. I am sure many of you who will be reading this all know that Lauren passed away in the early hours of the morning on Saturday 31^st January 2015 aged just 26.

Every night since she died I have sat at the laptop trying to think what to write and almost two weeks on I still don’t know so I’m going to keep it short and sweet. For me it doesn’t feel like it has actually happened. Its all just been such a blur and every morning I wake up and go to text her to tell her how Harry had kept me awake most of the night and to ask how her night had been and then I remember I cant. Well I mean I could text her but then I would be waiting for a reply which I would never receive. If it wasn’t for Harry reminding me that for me at least life goes on & I still need to be ‘Mum’ I don’t know how I would be coping or even if I would be coping.

I made reference in my first blog entry that the worst phone call I ever received was from my dad telling me Lauren was in hospital but we didn’t know anymore. That call seemed like a lifetime ago now and the one I had Saturday morning was even worse. Who wants to be told their sister has died? All I remember is saying I don’t want to hear it as I knew as soon as I got woken what the call was going to be about. These past two weeks have been the hardest of my life- we had to bury my granddad which should have been us Staveley’s putting the ‘fun’ back in funeral but there was no fun about it as although we remembered my grandad; Lauren was in our minds and all I kept thinking about it that’s going to be her soon.

I am so proud of everything Lauren achieved these past two years. I don’t think there are many people that would have been able to overcome what she did, get back to work within 6 months of the accident and adapt to living independently. But she suffered and all the time she had a smile on her face there was pain behind her eyes. She never got back her smile. The big beaming smile that defined Lauren. She was always so brave. The worst thing for me,my family and I expect anyone that knew her well was seeing her at her worst, when the pain was so bad that she couldn’t talk or move yet knowing there was nothing we could do to help her. Harry was the only one that could put a smile on her face in those dark times and it breaks my heart that she won’t be here to see him grow up.  

For months after the accident I tortured myself thinking that if only I had been out with her on that night then this would never have happened and Lauren would still be the girl who loved to party, the girl who had the biggest brightest smile on her face which was so cruelly taken from her. I kept thinking then that it was a mistake and one day she was just going to wake up and be able to walk again but really I knew that it wasn’t going to happen. The simple fact is that if she hadn’t have been left on her own that night, she would never had have the accident and she would be alive today and I have to live with the fact that I wasn’t there when she really did need me the most and I never got to say goodbye to my sister and best friend.

Lauren was always a bit of a drama queen in life and could never do anything quietly and the same goes for her death. We are still unable to plan her funeral due to the coroners still trying to determine what caused her to die but once they are able to release her back to us and we can bring her home I am going to ensure that she has the brightest, biggest and best party she ever had.

I’m not going to say rest in peace Lauren, I want you to go on and make sure you party to make up for the past two years.

xxx

'You have to fight through the tough days, in order to earn the best days'.

Its been a good 7 months since I publicly shared my life on here, that doesn't mean its been an easy 7 months.

I have been fighting a pressure sore which very quickly turned ugly. I cant even remember when the sore first appeared, must of been around May/June 2014. I had a routine where I would go to work, finish work, go to the doctors, changed the dressing and redressed the wound. I had various course of antibiotics to help fight the infections after infection. This was life, every day for a good few months. Luckily I have lost my sense of smell so I never had the pleasure of smelling the wound. I could tell it was disgusting because of the faces the nurses would pull when they dressed the wound. I had to inform work, because the last thing I wanted was for someone to walk behind me and smell me. That would be even more humiliating than admitting I had a hole in my back.

 I thought I had done my stint in hospital already, how wrong I was after being admitted  on the 30/09/2014 to William Harvey Hospital due to an out of control pressure sore. It was just another ordinary day. I went to my doctors appointment, the wounds got dressed but I was told they wanted to admit me to hospital as they did not know what else they could do and it needed specialist to view and treatment. They issued me with a letter which was an emergency admission to hospital. We headed up to William Harvey like a whirlwind and arrived in A&E at 6pm. I had a run in almost straight away with a nurse who wanted to take blood. Tears and tantrums started and she learnt not to ask again. I left and went back to the waiting room. Hours past, finally called in and another man ( some surgeon on duty) again wanted to take blood. Tears started, I tried to explain that I had been told a blood test could be done whilst under. I was given a relaxation drug and eventually made it to the ward at gone 1 in the morning.

This hole on my back is exactly how it sounds, a hole. At its worst it was 9 cm deep, you could fit a fist and a half in the hole and it was black, dead rotting tissue. The operation I would be having was called a debridement operation, where the aim is to cut out all of the dead skin.

After the first operation I was given better and stronger antibiotics as the infection had now spread to my tailbone which would mean cutting it out in the next operation. These tablets where huge and looked like something you would give a horse. I had the second operation days later where they were able to cut out the infection and cut out all the dead skin. When I saw the wound next, I could have cried. It was pink, fleshy and healthy, not a piece of black sin in sight. Yes it was still a huge hole, but now at least the recovery could really begin.

I had to get rid of my kingsize bed, to make place for what I can only describe as a hospital bed. I needed a special mattress which was made with air pockets. It vibrated constantly. This was to help the wound heal. I had to change the cushion on my wheelchair as well to help. I am very particularly when it comes to my wheelchair, I do not like for the chair to be visible and like people to see me before they see the chair. This cushion is higher than my originally therefore I sit higher. I hated this, especially getting rid of the bed. I worked so hard to get where I had got, that I didn't want to bring a hospital bed into my home.
I have the district nurses come every other day to change the wound and I have a special dressing called a Vac Dressing. It basically is a machine that constantly sucks out all the bad stuff out of the wound, so it keeps the wound a healthy fleshy colour. The hole is now 4cm deep, which is pretty amazing as it was 9cm only a few weeks ago. Makes me wonder why my nurse did not refer me to hospital sooner as all they were doing was changing my dressing everyday but nothing was happening.

One particularly bad night I sent an email to Buckinghamshire hospital for it to be sent to my Spinal Consultant Mr Derry. The next day I had a phone call from his sectary offering me an appointment early December. During the appointment I showed Mr Derry the photo diary I have been keeping and he could not believe that it had got so bad and asked why I never came to him before. Truth was I didn't know I could go to him with something that wasn't directly related to spinal cord injury. He explained of procedure he could perform which would mean getting rid of the hole for good. He explained that during the procedure he would move some of the muscle from the buttox up to fill the cavity and then stretch the skin up to cover over.

Strangely the recovery sounds harder than the operation itself, spending the initial few weeks on another special bed, which is heated and loud and am not allowed to sit up at all during this time. I am not sure how I am going to cope not being allowed to sit up at all. I am worried how I am going to cope with my pain, especially with even more limited movement

Before this, the day before the operation I have to have a blood test to check everything is ok and because I will be having blood transfusions during the operation. This is a huge thing for me as I have made it perfectly clear I hate needles and have a huge phobia of injections/bloodtest of any sort. Mr Derry knows only too well what a difficult patient I am and he has warned me, he is concerned how I will find the recovery as he knows I can get very agitated. He has offered to give me the numbing cream they use and has also offered me to have gas and air during the procedure to help me get through the bloodtest. I go into Stoke on the 14th January and I am hoping and praying that this is the last of this hole and I can get my life back.