A Nasty Knock on the Head (by Keith Wigham)

I awoke with with the sun shining straight through the window and on to my face. The warm massaging effect felt nice and somehow comforting to me. I opened my eyes and tried to focus on my surrounds I looked onto and through a window adjacent to my bed, it was a bright sunny day with a clear blue sky. Being mid September,  I knew it would be chilly outside but at least it was dry, it mattered not a jot of difference to me as I was snug and warm as a bug in a rug indoors. I knew it was September as I had a memory of Angela and myself getting ready for a busy time at our guesthouse in Blackpool due to the illuminations being switched  on, the kids half term school holidays, in fact our busiest time of the year. I blinked my eyes ensuring I had a clear view of my nearby surroundings indoors and slowly a hospital ward came into focus. Looking around I could see  all that was around me and much more to the point I was and fully aware of the fact that I was that laid down in a hospital bed in a relatively small but extremely comfortable and clean hospital ward. Quite a cosy home from home really, not a clinical environment that one would expect, It gets a 10 from Len. (Well Keith wouldn’t rhyme). The fact I was in hospital came as no surprise to me, subliminally I must have heard the nurses, doctors and other patients chatting, the ward consisted of 10 beds, 5 against the wall on the opposite side to me, 4 others plus the one I occupied on the same wall as me. All the beds were taken so business must have been good! Putting my hand to my face, I noted a good growth of hair on my chin, my designer stubble, not bad for a day I thought. I was in a hospital ward in Royal Preston Hospital, next to the nurses station in order they could keep an eye on me and much more to my liking next to the window allowing me such a lovely view of the hospital car park. What did surprise me though was the cot like structure around my bed keeping me imprisoned, for what reason, I knew not why. How did I end up here? I could not tell you, I had a recollection or a dream, I didn’t know which at that time, of being at a train station and falling on to the rail tracks, a very clean train station so I must have been dreaming all along . The truth was, my wife had been away at a family funeral, I was the subject of a rather nasty fall down the hall stairs at home. I had been helping someone up the stairs and we had tumbled, this led to me falling down the whole flight knocking my head, causing multiple skull fractures and some damage to my brain. Or as I like to put it, I had a nasty knock on the head!

       Back to my awakening in my hospital bed. I noticed that I had a raging thirst in fact I was as dry as a nuns gusset, then, as if in answer to my prayers, along came a lady pushing a drinks trolley. She was happily chatting with my fellow inmates and, much more importantly, was serving them cups of tea and coffee and even biscuits. Happy days are here again, or so I thought. She came to the foot of my bed and kept going right past me! I tried to call after her but nothing came out. I had lost my voice, for the first time in my life I was speechless and my salvation in the form of this lady, was quickly evading me by walking away from me, without so much as a glance in my direction. Not to worry though, I was in bed so I slept some more. I learnt that things we’re getting worse for me, I could not eat, drink or take any sustenance normally. Or as they say in hospital “nil by mouth”.  I had many tubes and drips doing the job of keeping me nourished, alive even, but due to my frustration and anger, or was it need for attention? I took to pulling these out mainly when my guests were on their way out after visiting me. I was very confused as to what was happening to me as far as my health and well being where concerned. I was also on a cocktail of drugs, I felt so alone and so vunerable, I didn’t like the fact that my wellbeing was in other people’s hands. I became somewhat paranoid and had no kind thoughts for my fellow inmates. I was unaware as to the extent of my injuries or the battle that lay ahead for my loved ones and myself. If I was to improve from my  present condition there would be a lot of hard work and trying times ahead of us. To be honest, it was just as well I knew nothing of my present condition, but I did know that I had my family and friends to see me through my heartaches. I must admit that I didn’t quite know the extent of my injuries or the life changing magnitude of the healing process that lay ahead for all of us.

I had been in an induced coma for some time, what I thought was one day since my nasty knock on the head had in fact been more like six weeks. Six whole weeks of being asleep and unaware of what was going on around me. I had lost quite a bit of weight as well and there are many who would say every cloud has a silver lining. I admit that being unaware of what was happening to me was the best thing I could have wished for. Had I been conscious and aware of the sorry state I was in I don’t think I would have battled so hard for my life. I must admit that I thought of all the trouble I would be causing and that the world would be easier for my loved ones without me.

          I had, in the first instance, been taken by ambulance to Preston Hospital and then after some improvement been moved to Blackpool Hospital, where I now found myself. I was slowly, very slowly recovering.

          I will tell you a little bit of my life as I lay in bed contemplating what has led up to this moment in time and also. it seems a good juncture in my tale. I was born in 1964  in Edinburgh already having an older sister Jaqueline, older by some 18 months and was to have a younger sibling some 2 years later, a brother Gavin. We lived with our mother and to say she didn’t take to well to motherhood would be no exaggeration. We where left alone to fend for ourselves, even at such a young age, whilst she enjoyed a full and varied social social Calendar. In fact, I myself being only 3 year old and my younger brother Gavin still a babe in arms relied on our 4 year old sister to look after us. The only real contact with a caring adult was or gran on our mothers side, who was constantly worried about our wellbeing. She knew her daughter was mistreating us, but to what extent, she knew not. I especially remember her coming to visit us one day, but our mother would not let her in. The next thing we knew there were packs of toffos dropping through the letterbox. We ate well that day. I also remember one morning my brother, sister and myself sitting round the dining table. I reached for a milk bottle, took a big mouthful only to find the milk was sour, I gagged and threw up all over the floor. Our sister cleaned it up fearing the reprisal should our mum discover the mess I had made. Up to that moment we had no good childhood memories.  All came to a head one evening, when she was out pubbing it, leaving her 3 children to fend for themselves as usual. Jackie my big sister and I had found our way to the cupboard housing the storage heater. A large tank with an insulating jacket on. The insulation looked like a very snug sleeping bag. We also had a box of matches and thought it was good fun to first strike the match and then put it into the insulation. Then the obvious happened, it caught alight. The next thing I remember was the 3 of us (thank god) sitting outside whilst the fire brigade put out a large house fire. Our mother, upon returned from the pub, could see all the commotion and promptly legged it on seeing what had happened whilst she had been at the pub. The best thing that ever happened to my big sister, little brother and myself.

          Now what was to happen to us? My gran had a long chat with my grandad and two aunties, telling them, the decision was theirs. We could go into care or we could all live with them. They made a choice which we will be eternally grateful for. Yes we got to stay with them! Our big sister mothered us, making sure we had all we needed, this is what she had done all our young lives. We soon settled happily and our grandmother became our mum, grandad was dad and our aunties our sisters. Not only by name but in the way we alł became one big happy family. We had a happy childhood and cannot thank mum, dad and our new big sisters for the sacrifices they made for us. We will be eternally grateful. I went to Parsons Green Primary school and had great time learning and making friends. I then moved on to Portobello High School.                                                    I think that I was quite bright but in my second year at Portobello decided school was more a social gathering than a learning one hence my grades took a tumble. But I enjoyed school, meeting all my friends and generally having a good time. I made many good friends at school and still see many of them when visiting Edinburgh I have maintained many great friendships with them throughout my life. I was best friends with a guy named Stu and he kind of looked after me during school, not through some kind of pity, but because we were really good friends. I remember during our house assemblies at school, the house master would stand before us perched on a wooden box in order to see right to the back of the room, we all said it would be so funny if he fell off his box. Some 3 years into our schooling, our wish was granted, he kicked the box to the front as he always did, stepped up on to his box and to howls of laughter from all the boys slipped and stumbled. How the simplest of things can make so many lads happy! I also remember during my early teens sneaking out at night to see my then girlfriend, climbing out of my bedroom window, shimmying along the roof guttering and climbing down the drainpipe. I would stuff pillows under the bed clothing to make it look as if it was inhabited. I got found out one night though. My mum had gone into my bedroom with some ironing, had dropped it and upon checking she had not disturbed me noted my empty bed. I was caught and my mum and dad were pretty upset with me. I left school aged 16 and decided that I would be a fireman. I was told that I was too young and that I lacked life experience. I decided that I would join the RAF in order to gain some life experience and joined up as as a fireman,  passed the medical and entrance exams. I had to wait for some time until vacancies became available  for my chosen trade.  Meantime I decided to get a job whilst I waited. Jobs were hard to come by in the late seventies early eighties, (Thatchers era). My first job, after lots of searching was in an Hotel as a hall porter (bell boy). I did this for a few enjoyable months working with people around my age. I used to make myself available for overtime and more often than not worked my extra hours in the kitchen. One Saturday I was doing some overtime working in the kitchen helping make ready a buffet for a wedding function, slicing some ham on the bacon slicer which I had taken the safety guard off. The obvious happened I sliced the top of my fingers off. There was a lot of blood but not much pain, I was taken to hospital by one of the hotel owners, my hand wrapped in a towel and raised above my head. I still remember smiling during my journey to A&E. There I was being driven in a bright yellow Rolls Royce and people not quite believing what they were seeing. I worked there for a few months and was then sacked during the quieter period. No guests spelt no work. I must admit to having a fun time working there with all of us socialising as well as working together. Unperturbed I went in search of another job. This came the following week in the way of sales assistant in a Scottish attire shop. I worked in the kilt sales and hire department, there was Alan my manager and myself. I used to tell people that I was the assistant manager, how grand! I especially remember one day, a ruckus was happening towards the front of the shop. In walked Jonny Cash, who wanted to wear a kilt during the encore at his concert in the Edinburgh playhouse. I didn’t know him from Adam, not quite my genre of music. I measured him for his kilt which he took with him from our hire department. Alas he returned it the next day unworn, known as the Man In Black it would not have gone with his image.

          I had a happy existence living life to the full working hard and playing even harder. I hung out with my friends who I had met at school, we would go to the pubs and discos and generally have a good time.

          Another of my loves was football and I followed Heart Of Midlothian with my friend Grant. As time passed we started going to the away games as well as the home ones. We would go by supporters bus and this is how I befriended Grants older brother Scott. He and his friends looked after us younger lads at the various away matches. As I got older my friendship with Scott grew stronger and to this day we still visit each other and our families have become friends. We where a close knit group with lots in common, our love of music was something that we all had in common and I still carry this love with me today. I frequented many concerts and enjoyed live music watching the likes of Gary Numan, Kraftwerk, Depeche Mode to name a few. Many, many more though.

          I will now tell you a little of my time as a bloke in the RAF both single and married, or as we put it a singly and a scaly. I joined the RAF as a fireman (my affinity with fire continues) in December 1981. I still remember that day on the 1st of December 1981 I went to Edinburgh Waverley with my mum and dad to get the train which would take take me to RAF Swinderby in Lincolnshire to carry out my basic training. Dad had given me 4 cans of Lager for the journey. I met up with two other lads who had also joined up, companions for my journey ( with no bloody beer). We settled onto the train, I said my goodbyes to my mum and dad and off we went. Being a gent I offered my companions a beer but they declined. I realised quite quickly they were not my kind of guys. I enjoyed my basic training, though it was hard being away from my family for the first time. I made good friends whilst training and discovered a cammeradery like no other. This was to stay with me for my whole career and is still, in fact with me today. We were all guys thrown together from different  walks of life, but we where in this together. There was I, a 17 year old boy pretending to be a man. I made good friends whilst training but we parted company at the end of our basic training in order we all went on our trade training. I was to go to the fire training school at RAF Catterick. It’s official name was Fire And Rescue Training School or FARTS as we knew it. I endured 8 weeks of training to become an RAF Firefighter, making yet more great friends as we helped each other through the course work as well as the military aspects of our Service lives. It was difficult at times but I never really enjoyed the morning PT lessons, having to endure cross country runs, carrying telegraph poles around the airfield and such bloody stupid things. I passed this course and then progressed to my first posting as a Leading Aircraftsman. I was posted to a flying training school, RAF Church Fenton. This was were I was to learn about being a fireman and more to the point being a member of the Royal Air Force, the crew life and most important of all. How to support and look after each other. Also how to enjoy the social aspects of being amongst not just workmates, but friends. I of course, was handed the kettle as I became official tea boy for the crew. I enjoyed my time becoming acquainted with my new role in life and was looked after by the older lads on the Fire Section. The hours we worked where easy, Monday to Friday mornings or afternoons. The mornings being 8 till 12, afternoons 12 till 5 with every weekend off. The lads gave me no respite though, making sure that time away from work meant drinking time in the NAAFI and local hostiliries. I do admit I rather enjoyed those worldly wise guys taking me under their wing. I spent about 2 years there and gained a good grounding as a Fireman and also all other aspects of RAF life. I thank all the guys for making my time there a fond memory. I was then posted to RAF Finningley in South Yorkshire were I was looked upon as one of the more senior guys. I must admit I did not get on with alł the guys there, but those I did where very good friends. My new boss was a stickler for cleanliness so we found ourselves spending a lot of the time cleaning either the Station or the vehicles. I do remember I would go into our bosses office on the pretence of making him a cup of tea, he would sometimes have the AP 957 (the fireman so bible) open. I would glance at which chapter he was reading and upon my return to my crew mates would let them know. We would all read up on that subject and when the boss invariably entered the crew room he would start asking us questions on the said subject. We, of course, always had the answers. There is a saying bullshit baffles brains, certainly his, not ours!. He was what is commonly known as a bull shit merchant. As I said I made some good friends there and we enjoyed our social life in good old Donny. I was to spend a further 2 years there, enjoying the splendours of Doncaster and what it had to offer. I met a great friend called Kiki there and we palled about during our time off. We very much had similar tastes in music and both loved football. We have maintained our friendship even today. I was then posted to RAF Barkston Heath, a missile site in Lincoln. I had earned a bit of a name for myself as a troublesome lad and my new boss relished the idea my turning up at his Station. I got on really well with him as well as my new workmates. I must admit to having a few good times in Lincoln.My circle of friends was growing all the time and was not solely firemen but guys from many different trades. I was detached to the Falkland Isles but this was cancelled when I received the devastating news one night that my dad had died. I was given 2 weeks compassionate leave in order that I could be with my family at this very trying time. We got through the loss becoming an even tighter family if that was possible. We were there for each other and on the run up to the funeral had a good laugh reminiscing about dad and how genuinely nice and funny he was. I must admit that my sisters took care of what needed doing concerning the funeral arrangements as well as making sure we were all coping, especially mum, and did all the organising of the many things that are needed at such a time. I was now 21 years old and upon my return to Barkston Heath was told to ready myself for a detachment to Ascension Island, an Island situated halfway between the UK and the Falklands. Plum on the equator in the Atlantic Ocean. I spent 6 months there in glorious sunshine on the beach, at the pool in fact work seemed to get in the way. I had a lovely time there and worked as well as played hard with a great bunch of guys. We had many great parties and barbecues, enjoying all this tropical paradise had to offer.

Upon my return to Barkston Heath I was told of my impending posting to RAF Belize in Central America. It was 1986 and I was aware that Scotland had qualified for the World Cup being held in Mexico. I met my new boss off the plane and the first thing I asked him was if anyone had booked time off for the World Cup. To my great joy, he replied no. I again had a wonderful time in Belize meeting friends old and new. While in Belize I was entitled to 2 weeks leave, of course I took advantage of this and travelled to Mexico City to see Scotland in the World Cup. On my way I befriended 3 Army guys at the airport in Mexico who were also going to watch Scotland. We became friends and I spent the 2 weeks with them. I also met some of my friends from Edinburgh over for the football. A good time was certainly had. Of course 2 weeks was enough as Scotland failed to get past the group stages and flew home. I flew back to Belize and work, but with another a great experience under my belt. Whilst in Belize the mosquitos were a constant pest and of course with mosquitos comes the risk of malaria. To combat this we had ant malaria tablet which we took daily. They were on the table in the mess like a condiment. The tablets worked for 99 % of the population, but lucky old me, I was in the 1%. I remember lying on top of my bed feeling flu like symptoms. The lads in the dorm took me to the medical centre and I was diagnosed with Malaria. I spent about a week in hospital and vividly remember receiving an injection. The doctor came along one day and revealed a syringe with the longest needle I had ever seen. It smarted like hell when it found its target, namely my arse. I was home on leave from Belize and my friend Stu and I decided a wintery Scotland was not for us during Hogmany. We decided on a holiday to sunnier climes. We booked a holiday to Spain’ a place called Zaragosa. We had to fly from Luton airport so we got the train down on the day of the flight. Upon arriving at the airport we decided to change into summer attire, so joining the queue at the departure gate now attired in our summer clothing, shorts, t shirt and sun glasses and where puzzled to see our fellow passengers dressed in quilted jackets and woollen hats carrying long bags. Upon enquiring we found out that Zaragoza was a ski resort and all our fellow passengers were ready for it with their skis. Unperturbed we hatched a new plan to hire a car at Zaragosa and head to Benidorm. This meant one of us not drinking on the flight, guess who that was? On arrival late at night it was not possible to hire a car straight away so we decided to spend the night in Zaragoza, we found a lovely hotel and decided on a night of drinking and partying. Well I had had a dry flight and we were on holiday. We found the hotel bar and met some Spanish drinking partners, of course we bought the drinks as it was put on our bill. Christ we spent some money that night! They invited us to another bar with them and whilst there reciprocated by buying alł the drinks. We had a great night as any 18 year old would, partying the night away.

The next day we hired a car and drove down to Benidorm, by our reckoning it would take about 10 hours. Of we went unperturbed by the journey which lay ahead. We were on our holiday and the marathon was another part of our adventure. Whilst I drove Stu slept and when it was his turn to drive I stayed awake. I was shit scared of his driving, he sped like a madman and that is not the thing to do when driving up and down mountain roads with bends and sheer drops. We finally arrived at Benidorm and thoroughly enjoyed our stay. We didn’t see much sun though as our holiday lives where pretty nocturnal, drinking all night and sleeping all day. We drove back to Zaragoza quickly realising we where now penniless, also very hungry. After a while driving along the motorways we noticed that along the roadside there where orange groves. We quickly hatched a plan to alleviate the trees of their burden. We pulled the car over ran amongst the trees picking oranges and lemons and filling the car. We ate well on the way back but when we returned the hire car it must have been very fragrant. On the way home we enjoyed aircraft meals for the first time in our lives. I was posted to RAF Buchan, a radar station near Peterhead. I enjoyed it there and had some great times working and playing hard. Testing the finer hostelries Peterhead had to offer. I again made some great friendships with my workmates. It was whilst at RAF Buchan I received news I had been selected for a promotion course to the rank of corporal. I worked hard on the course and after a gruelling 6 weeks passed. I then attended a course to ready my for life as a Junior NCO which again I passed. I was posted to RAF Catterick working on the fire ground support. Servicing Breathing Apparatus for the fire training school, well over 100 sets. Who would have thought, the proverbial bad boy promoted!

          Whilst at RAF Catterrick I was home for the weekend and on the Sunday night had to get the train back. Some of my friends came to the station with me and Stu was there. He not only saw me to the station but got on the train. As it started moving I told Stu he had better get off at the next stop but he only smiled and said he would find his gran’s  house in Durham. The trouble was, I had a ticket, Stu didn’t. Then to make matters worse, the ticket inspector came into the carriage. Stu looked across at me and whispered he would pretend to be asleep winking at me. The inspector came up to me and inspected the ticked. He then asked Stu for his ticket, no answer. He then asked me if I knew him and if so could I wake him in order he could inspect his ticket. I shouted across at him and listening to our conversation stirred and awoke. The inspector asked him for his ticket. Sitting across from him I nudged him under the table and passed him my ticket unseen by the anyone, he took it and handed it to the inspector who clipped it  and went on his way. 1 – 0 to Stu and Keith v British Rail. I think we laughed all the way to Durham.

           Throughout our time after leaving school and gaining employment, we as friends, still stuck together. Moving from smoking behind the bike shed to drinking in various hostelries. Even to this day I still meet up with many childhood friends. We may have gotten older but by no means have we become any wiser.

 The fire service within the RAF was quite a small trade group which invariably led to meeting up with old friends and comrades from time to time.

There I was in charge of servicing all the breathing apparatus sets, quite a strenuous task given there was over 100 BA sets. I enjoyed being there amongst some good friends but found that logistics had changed slightly. I was viewed as a Corporal now as opposed to one of the lads, which was something I found hard to get my head round. I hadn’t really changed but people’s perception of me had. I was in charge of my friends, some of them found that a bit difficult, I know I did as well. I looked forward to weekends and spent much of them back in Edinburgh with family and friends. Throughout my life I had always been friends with the same guys I had been to school with them and every leave period I had was spent socialising with them, we where a tight group and looked out for each other.

          Some years after quite an eventful single life I met my wife when I was on a fire prevention course at RAF Manston on a night out in Margate, I met her whist I was out night clubbing, in those days it was called going to the disco. She gave me her phone number and I wrote it on the back of my fag packet. I went on to the classroom the next day and when I returned to my room that evening I realised I had thrown my empty cigarette packet in the bin. To my utter dismay, the cleaner had been in my room and during the tidying of my room had emptied my bin. I went over to the skip outside and searched amongst the rubbish for my empty fag packet. About half on hour later, hey presto I found it. I phoned her and some 29 years we are still married. I remember our wedding day with fondness. My family and friends travelled from Edinburgh to Margate for the occasion. I remember both my sisters weddings as a young lad and they were big party weddings, I wanted ours to be memorable and it truly was that. We held our wedding reception in McDonalds, that was the last happy meal I ever had! No our wedding was a memorable affair with lots of family and friends travelling down from Edinburgh to celebrate our union.

          We lived in Margate with Daniel and Luke, Angela’s sons from her previous marriage. I was an instructor at the RAF Fire School now moved to Manston. We were so happy there with Angela’s mum and dad living a few miles away and I was introduced to all Angela’s friends. They soon became my friends as well and we had plenty great social occasions both service and civilian. We combined both really well, living in Margate but ensuring we combined out service lives with our day to day living. We became parents of a daughter, Lucy in 1991, a momentous occasion for all. Angela had two sons from a previous marriage Luke and Daniel who were nice lads and made me very welcome in becoming part of the family.

          After 2 years of marriage we where blessed with a daughter, Lucy. I must admit to really enjoying my role as a father and a fire instructor, training basic fire courses, Breathing Apparatus courses, Fire Refresher Courses. The friendships there were great. Then after a further 5 years in Margate working as an Instructor we were posted to Germany. Angela, Luke, Lucy and I travelled to RAF Bruggen. Daniel was settled in the UK working for the London Met in their offices and did not move to Germany. We enjoyed it in Germany and Luke seemed to enjoy his new school. The first thing the recruiting desk did for me was to send me on a 6 month detachment to the Falklands. I must admit I had a great time there and a bunch of better lads I could not have wished for. Upon our return to the UK we were posted to RAF Saxa Vord in the Shetland Isles. Luke, by this time had joined the RAF as a  ground electrician and had got married. Whilst at Saxa Vord I was selected for promotion to become a Sergeant. On my subsequent promotion I was posted to RAF Buchan as fire safety, a job I disliked. I volunteered as a recruitment officer and spent my time in Portsmouth recruiting office where I spent a further 3 years. During this time, the local authority firemen in the UK went on strike so the RAF Fire School had the task of training the Army, Navy and RAF personnel for the job of replacing the striking firemen. They put a call out for ex instructors to assist with the training. This I gladly did and whilst the strikes went ahead was part of a crew in Morpeth. After 3 years as a recruiter I handed my notice in with the RAF. My priorities had somewhat changed and it was time to give my family some stability. My final year in the RAF was at RAF Odiham which I enjoyed immensely. There you have it, a quick summary of Keith the singly and then Keith the married guy with responsibilities. After 23 in the RAF at the age of 40 I was a civilian once more. The RAF and those I had the privilege to work with shaped me, I thank everyone of you for that.

        Back to our tale. My first visitor of the day arrived, my wife Angela. She was both surprised and delighted to see me awake and sitting up in a chair next to my bed. The doctors had stopped the medication that was keeping me in a coma  after her long bedside vigil she finally, at long last could see a change in me and it was the change she had been waiting for a change for the better. Angela had been visiting me on a daily basis for some 6 weeks. My wife thanked me for waking up. As I was on the critical care list she was able to visit me outside of the normal visiting times. My daughter Lucy was with her each time she visited. Luke my son was also there, he had been visiting me as well. Both Luke our son and Lucy our daughter had been a great support to my wife Angela. Upon seeing her one of the first things I asked Angela was where my mum was. She told me that my mum had died some months ago, it must have been heartbreaking for her. I asked the same question 3 times, I kept forgetting that my mum had died some months earlier. In the end she showed me the eulogy we had all composed for my mums funeral. I must admit that knowing the battles my mum went through, I was so glad she could not see me and my present circumstances. It would have broken her heart, such was her love for all of us. I think one of the greatest things for my family was the fact that I recognised them all, she just didn’t deserve the heartache. I knew who I was and was and more importantly, who everyone around was. I was still, more importantly, a Heart of Midlothian supporter. No, joking aside, it was still the Keith they knew and loved (well hopefully loved). My nasty knock on the head had not been so damaging as to render me a different person in the respect of not knowing anyone. I always had a good memory and my memory was still intact and as keen as ever.

          The visits went really well, I would wait at the ward door from 8am until Angela was there. I enjoyed seeing them and it was something I looked forward to, my daughter Lucy, who sings solo and also with a band sang an impromptu song for everyone. It was lovely and well received by all, staff and inmates alike. It certainly made my day more enjoyable and I was proud as punch of my little girl. I was now writing on a piece of paper as a means of communication and one of the first thing I wrote putting pen to paper was, Can I have a glass of water please? Well it looked like that to me, but to describe it as a scribble would be closer to the mark, no it would have been downright kind. Angela asked a nurse if a glass of water was possible, but the reply was a resounding no.  It seemed that my swallow reflex had deserted me and the nursing staff where worried that I might drown myself with any intake of liquid. I got too suck on a moist cloth to quench my ravaging thirst, I hungrily took whatever moisture was offered. I was so pleased to see the people I recognised and loved, here giving me love and support.

          One morning I received a package through the post, inside was a Get Well Soon card from The Hearts Team and a CD in which they all sent me messages of good wishes. My friends who worked at Tynecastle had arranged this lovely surprise for me.

            I was working hard at recovering and the battle for my life was hotting up. I must admit the love I felt, along with the many nice surprises, saw me through some of the darkest days of my life.

          As the days passed by, one morning as breakfast was being served I decided to try out my legs. I was improving all the time and decided it was time to walk to the loo. I got out of bed with a bit of trouble, scaling the bars like an animal escaping its cage at the zoo. I managed to climb out of my bed, took a few tentative steps, then to my utter amazement and horror, I fell to the floor as unknown to me, I had lost my sense of balance due to my nasty knock on the head. Not only that, I also banged my hand as I fell, there was blood all around me (well around my finger anyway) and it hurt like hell. The bone of my index finger was protruding through my skin and my finger was bent at an impossible angle. The staff came running to assist me, asking were else I hurt. I told the nurse at my side that I had hurt my hand. Upon raising it to show her I saw that my finger was broken. I had a complicated dislocation of my pointy finger on my right hand and could see the bone  protruding through my skin and it hurt like hell. It seemed that some weeks earlier when I fell down the stairs, I had sustained some damage to the balance part of my brain which resulted in my latest fall. I was being housed on the stroke unit of the hospital as my injuries could most be likened to that of someone who had suffered a stroke and survived the devastation such an event brings. Due my loss of balance combined with the fact I had taken to thrashing about in my sleep I was given a mattress on the floor to sleep on at night . So my safety was paramount not only to me and my loved ones, but also the staff. Day by day I began regain my powers of speech, I could put words together and began to speak again, not as I used too, but slow, deliberate, slurred and lacking in intonation. I was working bloody hard to do the simplest of things, things that I took for granted. Talking and,  importantly being understood was a great victory to me.

            Angela came visiting me and brought my sisters, brother and son, they all visited me often and did a lot of work making Angela’s priority ME! I was so happy to see them all albeit difficult circumstances. I would wait in my wheelchair every morning by the ward reception area for their arrival. I got to know all the staff as they would greet me at the beginning  or end of their day  knowing that I was waiting for my wives visit. I would wait for hours on end to see my wife and my visitors, not that I didn’t have time on my hands. In fact I am sure I became like one of the fixtures and fittings. Family and friends came to visit me and I was having to work hard speaking with them all. I also began to have physiotherapy on my legs and balance. Unbeknown to me I also had problems with swallowing, so much so that the surgeon was to perform an operation which would mean that I would get my nutrition through a tube directly into my stomach. It doesn’t rain but it pours!  But I always say ” never look back with regret, look forward having learnt a valuable lesson”.

          On the  day of the operation the surgeon discovered a bleed in my stomach so operation had to be postponed. Every day a nurse to try to get me to drink from a spoon with no luck. Hey presto some 3 days after the postponement of the operation I managed my first drink, just three tea spoonfuls of water, but it was monumental and would save me from the surgeons knife once again. The operation was therefor cancelled. I was on a lucky streak.

            The lady with the tea trolley had an extra stop to make whilst doing her rounds. I only ever drank coffee and liked it black. After a few days of her asking me black or white sugar or not, I got used to it white, it seemed easier than trying to explain in my slow, slurred speech for the umpteOenth time. To this day I still take my coffee with a touch of milk, though I do sometimes have it black. I was receiving physiotherapy to aid my balance issues and was working hard to recover my speech which was slurred and slow, quite inaudible which some would say was a blessing, because when I could be understood, I usually spoke a load of shit!  The work I put into my recovery was hard, slow but rewarding. I suffered terribly from fatigue which made every effort so much more difficult. I would say to anyone unlucky enough to be aiding anyone through a brain injury, is be patient and realise how trying every little effort is for them. The key word through this is PATIENCE I know because all my family and friends were so patient and supportive to me. No matter how long I live, I can never thank them enough. I feel so lucky to have them.

          After a few long hard weeks of recuperation, hard for me, my family and my loved ones, I was moved from Preston Hospital to Blackpool Hospital. A ward for recovering stroke patients as my mentioned, my injuries closely resembled those of someone recovering from a stroke. The bonus for me was the fact that iI was now much closer to home, which meant an easier journey for my family when visiting me. Though I had been moved, the regime I was enduring to assist my recovery  got no easier. I was constantly fighting my fatigue in order to carry out my various therapy sessions. I didn’t think I was getting any better, as every improvement in me led to the discovery of something else wrong with me. I could not see very well and had double vision rendering me unable to read very well. My writing was terrible due to my eyesight, vision and ataxia. I don’t mean to gripe but the list gets longer.

          The days went slowly by with me on the mend and getting stronger each day and visitors there where many, Gerry and Vivian, friends from The George Formby Society, which I had joined some years earlier, Gerrys ‘ enthusiasm had drawn me towards the society and kindled an interest in George Formby, visited me and he entertained the staff and inmates with a great rendition from his ukulele, singing a Formby song, Frank in his Tank, my favourite. singing for all of us. My friend Scott visited me, all the way from Edinburgh . I will appreciate those who visited me more than they will ever know. Their visits  really meant a lot and I needed my friends around me. During my stay in hospital I would lie in bed watching all that happened around me. On one day in particular a gentleman opposite me caught my eye for no real reason,  but I was somehow drawn to him and kept looking at him. When my wife arrived to visit me, I told her that I thought the poor guy was going to die. She told me not to be so silly. But during the night the poor man passed away. A couple of days later I again said the same thing about another guy in the next bed to me. Sure enough the poor guy passed away that evening. Funny old thing, nobody on the ward would speak to me after that and they kept averting their eyes from me when I looked at them.

          I carried on improving day by day, well some days I was good, others I was low. I think that anyone in my situation deserves on off day. Unbeknown to me, my wife had been told upon her arrival at the Royal Preston Hospital when I was first admitted,  that the doctors didn’t hold out much hope for me. She was told to prepare herself for my demise and that should I survive, any improvement would be minimal. But being me, with a fighting spirit I defied the odds and was recovering so much so that I could speak, eat and even foretell the future. I was soon able too leave the ward albeit in my wheelchair and only as far as the coffee shop at the hospital entrance but I especially enjoyed our daily trips to the hospital coffee shop drinking cups of coffee eating slices of carrot cake, my favourite. Mum used to bake and her carrot cake was the best ever. Im sure the profit margin in the coffee shop slumped dramatically when I stopped using it. The food in the hospital was quite good with lots of choices as well, I used to chose cottage pie, shepherds pie or mince and tatties. I found that minced meat was easy for me to eat as my swallowing reflex was still a little bit dodgy and with my bad hand I couldn’t cut my food very well. I also suffered from ataxia which is an involuntary movement (jerking) of a limb. I had ataxia in my right arm so was pretty dangerous with sharp objects. This never stopped my wife bringing me a McDonalds or KFC for my tea. In fact I quite remember a few of the staff on the ward, upon catching a whiff of my take away, saying they were going to McDonalds or KFC on their way home for their tea.

          Then one day I was allowed to enjoy the great outdoors for the first time in many weeks, there was a park opposite the hospital and Angela pushed there in my wheelchair, my family had a wonderful outing. It was a sunny but very cold day, not that never bothered me, I was just so happy to be outside. The icing on the cake was when my dog Alfie came running towards me wagging his tail with happiness. We were both so excited at being together again. I must admit to shedding a tear, we had been such a long time apart. To say  we were pleased to see  each other would be putting it mildly. He has never left my side since, we are true buddies. I bought him a couple of years back for Angela in order she could alleviate her sore leg by walking with him. But he is my dog, our love for each other is strong and we trust each other emphaticlly. Angela and I have always been great animal lovers and we use to have an English Bull Terrier a while ago. We once bought a Sausage dog but had to return it. Though it was cute and cuddly, his sausages tasted a bit odd! Seriously though I cannot thank the staff enough for taking care of me with understanding, professionalism and a keen sense of humour, The NHS would not survive but for the dedication and hard work the people put in. They are the NHS. I will always be indebted to them, they certainly make the difference, no, they are the NHS. They are so compassionate and handle all manner of problems on a daily basis. I might have been a fireman but I know they cope with a lot more than I ever did.

          I have seen the NHS from a patients perspective, spending a long time in hospital. The nurses, doctors, cleaning staff and trolley dollies are so professional and extremely friendly people. They made my stay with them so much more bearable.

         My wife visited me every day (I think she was missing me) and I remember one day waking up at 10 o clock, thinking I must have missed breakfast. I asked the nurse for the use of the phone. She looked a little puzzled but granted me my wish. I called my wife at home and said I needed to see her. When she arrived I asked her where she had been and why she hadn’t visited me. Because I never visit you at 10 in the evening was her reply. I felt kinda silly, and that is why I had missed breakfast. I also told my little brother to stop rifling through my bedside cabinet and asked him why he had an Irish accent. The drugs were doing odd things to me. I would pull the various tubes out of my nose, I was a bit of a nuisance I think! All my family came to see me, my three sisters from Edinburgh and my brother in law as well. It is so nice to know, that in times of adversity you can always rely on your family.

We where was quite well travelled and where ready as a family to settle from our nomadic lifestyle. At the grand old age of 40 I retired from the RAF. My family and I bought a small Guesthouse in Blackpool and settled down. We quickly realised that we needed a better income to support our lifestyle so I went to work, my first job was servicing fire extinguishers around the UK. This meant being away from home during the week and to cap it all I was more like a travelling salesman having to sell extinguishers. I  had retired from the Air Force owing to my family and stability being our priority and I had soon had enough of the selling and travelling during the week. Travelling home one Friday I was mulling all of this over and decided that having a shitty job that I didn’t enjoy was not worth it. I pulled over went the pub were I bought a bottle of Budweiser, phoned my boss and handed in my notice. I must admit he was a true gent about it and didn’t make me work my notice. Then I went on to work for the prison service for a further 8 years. I think he was glad to be rid of me. Not so much as a scratch befell me in the RAF as a fireman or as a prison officer but then as a hotelier this happened, this goes to show that being an hotelier is the most dangerous job of all and none of us know what is round the next corner. Back to our story.

          Being in hospital recovering from my nasty knock on the head was hard work alt times as well as downright tedious, but I knew that it was for my own good and my recovery was going better than expected. I kept thinking this hard work and effort is not for me but for the people I love. I do think that the specialists at the hospital have to give the most dire of prognosis just in case the worst should happen, that is my theory anyway. I used to get quite bored at times, a man can only sleep so many hours in each day. To alleviate my boredom I would make up jokes and tricks to play one such trick was as follows.

          After breakfast one morning the doctor came into the ward and did his usual rounds, chatting with everyone and answering any queries they might have. He then came to me and spoke. He informed me about the incident that had culminated in our meeting, how he envisaged my progress and the battle that lay ahead. It all sounded hunky dory if it went to plan, that was a big IF! After our chat I sat on the end of my bed looking sorry for myself. One of the ward nurses came to me and enquired why I was looking so sad. I’ve had some bad news I have been diagnosed with terrets syndrome. Don’t be so silly, who diagnosed this she asked. That fucking shit over there in the white coat and stethoscope I replied pointing over to the doctor. She shook her head and laughed with me. We spent a lot of time laughing, chatting and joking, it was just the tonic I needed. It was good to know my sense of humour, warped though it may be, was still intact. It has seen me through a great many scrapes in my past, but I now needed it to see me through the mother of all scrapes. I knew that with the help of my family and friends, this was a battle we could win. Just how big the battle was , none of us knew.  Probably just as well too.

          I have no memory of the incident which befell me but I did however have a recurring dream of falling down and down. I would wake with a start feeling panicky and covered in a cold sweat. This happened on a nightly basis leaving me tired and cranky the next day. I endeavoured to ask my therapist about this problem and was told that I was suffering from  PTSD Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This is not uncommon in people who have been involved in traumatic incidents. I was told that this was an old age problem and that things should ease with the passing of time. But if the problem persisted there would be someone to help me. I’m glad to that as time passed, these dreams became less and less frequent and no assistance was required, in fact, they have now completely gone. One thing less for me to worry about. I still have no memory of the incident that befell me, maybe it is just as well.

         Some months after suffering my nasty knock on the head and with a lot of hard work from my family, friends and the hospital staff and a long and hard recovery period I was allowed to go home. I had been nagging everyone to allow me to go home and at last my wish was to be granted. I had a nice stay in the hospital and the staff were so attentive but sometimes you just need to be home in your own surroundings. But alas, I couldn’t leave all the staff behind without one final episode, waiting for the arrival of the ambulance to take me home was fraught with another of my episodes. I was sick and tired of waiting and decided that my wife could take me home. This, of course, was not a good idea. I started to have a screaming fit and was uncontrollable., hanging on to railing in the corridors and generally being a child. I am impatient at the best of times but since the incident my patience is non existent, what little I had has deserted me. Angela had to get assistance from hospital security, she and they fortunately managed to calm me down. Off to the coffee shop I went, happy to be going home. The ambulance finally arrived and ferried me home. It was so nice to be back home surrounded by recognisable things and Alfie our dog. The hard work was only just beginning, not just for me, but also for my loved ones. My wife and daughter had to put up with my terrible mood swings and temper which were borne out of my terrible feeling of frustration.

          My journey, no our journey was really starting now. I was a selfish man, thinking the world revolved around planet Keith.  I was the one who had been through it all, I had been short changed in life, the world owed me. Why me was a question I asked myself time and time again. Before my nasty knock on the head I played both the guitar and the ukulele pretty poorly. So the time had come to try playing them again? I firstly picked up my guitar, played a few chords and then played a tune. To my utter amazement I sounded no better. I then tried my ukulele with the same results. There was another theory of mine out the window. Angela noted that if I had things to look forward too or  be getting on with I was quite happy, no time to feel sorry for myself. I must admit that, though we all had each other, we did feel quite alone. We were all getting use to my being unable to do all the things I used too but didn’t feel we where getting the support we needed. Yes we had a speech therapist, a physiotherapist and a occupational therapist, but we felt that we needed support as a family in our day to day living and how best to cope with our changed circumstances. I would wake up in the mornings and the first thing I would see was my walking frame. This would bring our situation back to my thoughts and remind me of my nasty knock on the head and my reliance on others. A bad start to my day. Being as we are, we asked nobody for help, the frustrations that we all felt where simmering and ready to boil over and this was playing on the minds of the whole family.

          We visited family and friends in Edinburgh. The very same family and friends who had supported us through this rather trying time. I remember my friend Scott, his wife Linda, their son Jamie and daughter Fiona visit me at my sisters house in Edinburgh. I was filled with trepidation as to how Jamie would react to me, we were pals and I think he looked up to me, he was was 11 year old and I, like many others, am a great believer that children say what is ver truthful. Believe me when I say Jamie can certainly speak up for himself. Upon greeting them all Jamie was a little standoffish for about the first minute. Then to my great relief and joy everything went back to as they were before the incident. I will be eternally grateful for the way our first encounter went. It made me so happy to see that nothing had changed in his young eyes,

          I did find however, that I tired easily, not of people but physically. My brain was having to work much harder than usual. I was having to think of everything I said and did. My mind was literally running a marathon every day just to see me through without hurting too many feelings. This left me fatigued all the time, which was very frustrating. I took to going to bed in the afternoon just for the rest but soon realised this did not leave me any more refreshed in the evenings. One of the first things to decline when I was tired would be my speech. I would talk with slurred speech and become pretty unintelligible. I would find that if I was doing something late on a particular evening that was when a little nap in the afternoon would help. It was about management and how best to conserve energy. This was something that became very hit and miss and still is today. We never stop learning, in fact life is one big lesson for all of us. Look back and never regret what you have done, regret the things you have never gotten round to doing. My dislocated finger and my arm were hurting me and Angela decided I needed to Dee a doctor. We made our appointment to se our local GP who said I would need a quartizone injection and booked me in for the dreaded injection. Now I had heard that cortizone injections can be painful, who am I kidding, they are bloody painful. I dutifully turned up for the appointment with Angela pushing me in my wheelchair. We went into the doctors office and he asked me to remove my shirt, I was to receive the injection in my back. He then went behind me and I felt a sensation on my back that was not at all painful. He then came around to face me. Is that it I exclaimed feeling what was all the fuss over. Oh no he said putting his pen back in his pocket, I was just marking the spot the injection would be going. Then in came a student doctor to administer the dreaded injection and it hurt like hell.

          I applied for a blue badge in order that we could park our car in the designated parking areas. It was during our visit to the local council offices that I had a rude awakening. Our blue parking badge was being processed by a lovely lady and she asked “how long have you been disabled?” I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as she said this. There was a realisation that I was disabled and this was what people would see when I was in their company. I knew this lady did not mean anything by what she said but it did bring realisation of my own inabilities to me and it came to me with a harsh reality. Though I knew the fact of the matter, I was still unwilling to accept my present situation.

          It was coming up to my 50th birthday and we had planned a grand affair, inviting my family and friends to celebrate with us. I woke up on my birthday, my wife kissed me and wished me a happy birthday. I excitedly, like a small child, began opening my presents. I opened a small package which contained wire staples. I looked at my wife not knowing why she had given me such a strange gift. She just smiled and told me to carry on. I did and once I had opened all my wonderful gifts she took me to our back yard. There where rolls of wire and pieces of wood, I was going to have an aviary in the back yard! Some time ago I had kept and bred lovebirds, a pastime I had enjoyed immensely, but being in the RAF led to a nomadic lifestyle so I ended up giving them away. Now my favourite pastime was about to begin all over again, I was thrilled. I was even give 2 lovebirds to start me on my way. The evening went really well, loads of family and friends gathered, I even did a small speech which I had worked on for quite some time ensuring that I was speaking clearly and legibly giving my thanks to everyone for making the effort to celebrate with me. I was also very aware that I was meeting people who had not seen me since the incident, that in itself was very daunting. I felt so lucky to be alive and amongst such loving family and friends who were still willing to  be part of my life. My birthday was a great success and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. I know I certainly did, seeing family and friends once more was joyous for me. There where friends from my past who I hadn’t seen for years as well as friends from my recent past. But it was great to be in their company celebrating. Stu who had since married as well as JP, James and quite a few other were in attendance.

          After a few days my aviary was soon built and it didn’t take me long to acquire more lovebirds to join my pair already received. I now have 27 birds and they are breeding so the the population is forever increasing. I feed and water them every day but my wife cleans them out for me as I find that unmanageable due to my balance issues.  It is a hobby that I truly love and I enjoy just sitting and watching there antics. I also have an African Grey Parrot called Monty. He speaks and sings, I especially like him singing The Hearts Song, an old football song. He also sings George Formby songs and he is quite a character.

          It had been six months since my nasty knock on the head and we decided that a holiday would be nice. We travelled to Lanzarote and had a lovely time in the sun. I spent a lot of time in the swimming pool. There I was an equal, my balance was sustained by the water and I would pass my time just walking around in the pool with no walking aid. Something I used to take for granted, I know that there are many things we all take for granted until we lose those abilities. It was nice to be home along side my wife, daughter and my animals. Back to my comfortable and relaxing surrounds. We had a pretty good season as far as the Hotel was concerned but my wife was beginning to tire due to all the hard work she had undertaken, having to do everything on her own as well as looking after me. The first year of me being home was exceptionally busy for those around me. I was quite unrelenting with my demands and found that I became fixated with things. I was still receiving my weekly physio, speech and occupational therapy on a weekly basis but that ended  as my time was up. The NHS had stopped my therapy as there where other people who required the time of the dedicated experts. I don’t hold any ill feeling or grudges as to this. Quite simply things had run their course and I thank those who helped me, it was now time to help myself a bit more.

          I was regaining the use of my left hand and to further the healing process, I was told to try and use it a little more. One day my mobile phone rang so I picked up using my left hand. I put it to my ear but it was not working. I changed hands, put it to my right ear and it worked. I chatted for a while then said my goodbyes. I got to thinking about the phone and how it worked intermittently. I asked my wife to phone me. I put the phone to my left ear, nothing. I put the phone to my right ear, it was working again. Shit! I was deaf in my left ear. On top of everything I was deaf in one ear. This worried me so, because my wife had bought me a record player for Christmas and it was stereo. What a waste of money!

          I attended a speech therapy group with seven other people. We used to meet on a weekly basis and I found this to stimulating and good fun as well. My speech and more importantly my confidence talking in company was improving. To quickly the course was over, but as we all got on so well I suggested we should all meet up for a coffee and a chat every Tuesday. I arrived at the cafe the following week, full of trepidation about who, if anyone, would turn up. Soon three more guys turned up and we all had a good chat and a coffee. We still maintain the weekly coffee mornings and there are now five of us attending, some with their wives.

          I was lucky to be alive, lucky to have received the therapy and treatment and most all lucky to have received the love and support from my family and friends. But beneath my jovial exterior lay a dormant darkness. I slowly began to realise what a hindrance I was to others. I felt I was a real nuisance to all of my family and friends. These thoughts stayed with me and manifested into thoughts that my loved ones and that they would be would be better off without me. I was seriously contemplating suicide. The thought of them having to tend to me was unbearable. I would have to alleviate them of the burden that was me. Yes they would mourn me for a few days, maybe even weeks, then they could get on with there lives. I would lie awake at night thinking of the best way in which to end it alł.  This was not just a passing thought, I was seriously contemplating taking my own life and decided on taking an overdose of pills. I hadn’t thought about being found dead by those people I truly loved. I was hell bent on seeing my quest through. I had even chosen my funeral songs. Caterpillar by the Cure ( my thought behind this song is that we are all moving on to another stage of our life, a bit like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly). The Hearts Song of course and Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley and Goodbye Goodbye by Billy Bragg, it is a really lovely but very sad song (I can’t have anyone having a nice time at my funeral can I) I would also have Hello my friend by Neil Diamond and when he sang Hello I would sit up in my coffin and wave at all my mourners. Everyone who attended my funeral would have to wear colourful clothing to signify my very colourful life. So I had put a lot of thought into it. My ethos is that it’s not the years on your life that matters but the life in your years and I have certainly fitted a lot into my years. Then in a moment of weakness I told my wife what I was planning. I am not sure to this day wether it was a moment of weakness or was it a cry for help. I don’t think I will ever know. She quickly got in touch with the brain injury team and explained our predicament. I was then put in touch with a psychotherapist (shrink) to help us. She was a lovely woman who made me reevaluate my life and accept what had happened. I also learned, we are not living on planet Keith and to think of others which I must admit I wasn’t. More importantly she gave me belief In myself, a different perspective on problems encountered and the confidence to move forward with what had happened. I saw her every week along with my wife and indeed still see her now but more on an ad-hoc basis. But she has said to us, that should we ever need her assistance or advice, just call. I have been known to slip up now and again. It is also good for my wife to have a sounding block and someone to share her problems with just be able to share her worries is a godsend.

          Things were going well for us, at least I thought so, but my wife had worked herself to the bone. I wasn’t being much help, my selfish attitude was wearing her down. My wife had run out of fuel having looked after me  for two years now and I think that she was running on empty, this may have been the straw that broke the camels back. She finally succumbed and reached out for help. Something everyone had told her to do on numerous occasions, but she is a very proud woman and dislikes having to ask for help. Maybe it was an accumulation of everything but she did ask for help. Not therapy or exercise for me but genuine assistancel with our day to day living.

          The help came by way of social services, who assisted my wife and myself  giving me clubs to go to in order that. I could meet other people, I was already attending a local brain injury organisation, Headway, on a bi monthly basis. A meeting were I met some good friends, received some helpful advice and met people who had been through a very similar experience to myself and my wife. I was also allocated a listener. Someone to come round to our house and chat with me. This lady was lovely, her dad had been in the RAF, hence she had grown up in a Service environment. Her husband was also in the RAF, so we has plenty to talk about. In fact, she dedicated a lot of her life for the good of others. We meet on a weekly basis and chat about families, life, in fact anything and everything. I really enjoy our meetings. It also gave my wife some respite in order that she could relax a little. This lady has been a lot of help to me, through her volunteering, she also works for the Royal Air Force Association and has arranged assistance from them. Again somebody I will be eternally grateful to. I don’t mean for this story of mine to be a thanks to everyone but there a lots of people who I am grateful to, without them I would not be here. I really mean that, I realise how close I have come to ending this all. The hard work was only just beginning, not just for me, but also for my loved ones. I played the guitar and ukulele badly before my accident.So being home, I wondered,I picked up my guitar and played it. To my utter amazement, I sounded terrible. Then to my ukulele, the same results. My wife and daughter had to put up with my terrible mood swings and bad temper at times. I was so wrapped up in feeling sorry for myself that I thought of no one else except me.

          My journey, no, our journey was really starting now. I was a selfish man, thinking the world revolved around me. I was the one who had been through it all, I had been short changed in life, the world owed me a living. Why me was a question I asked myself time and time again. When I had things to be getting on with I was quite happy, no time to feel sorry for myself. I must admit that, though we all had each other, we did feel quite alone. We were all getting use to my being incapacitated but didn’t feel we where getting the support we needed. Yes we had a speech therapist, a physiotherapist and a occupational therapist, but we felt that we needed support as a family. I kept waking up in the mornings and the first thing I would see was my walking frame. This would remind me of my nasty knock on the head that I had sustained. Being as we are, we asked nobody for help, which was much to the detriment of my family. I couldn’t get about my house to well, having to hang on to the tables and chairs. I called this furniture surfing. Angela installed some bars and handles to make my moving about a little easier. I also had trouble using the shower and bathroom, in order to alleviate this problem Angela contacted the local council who said they would install a user friendly shower and loo. The only problem with this was the 2 year waiting list.

          I was out in my wheelchair with Angela shopping and had a resounding realisation in the way my brain now worked. We were in a shop queuing at the till, a family, who happened to be of Asian descent were in front of us being served. As this was happening they kept adding to the pile of clothes in front of them. I was getting annoyed and impatient at their antics. In a voice loud enough to be heard I said. Oh a different rule for Packies in this shop! I was mortified that I had said such a thing. It was embarrassing for all concerned and utterly shocking for me. This was me at a new low, but the realisation that I was saying things out of character was truly horrifying. I have had to retrain myself in the art of conversation and not speaking out of turn. Not only for myself but also those around me.

          Some time had passed since my nasty knock on the head and our trip to Lanzarote we, Angela and I noticed that if I had something to look forward too it occupied my mind and I would be less likely to be in a grumpy mood or indeed have any dark thoughts She decided that a holiday was needed and asked me where I would like to go, in fact it would be a nice experience for us both to get away and recuperate. When Angela asked me where I would like to go. Without hesitation I told her Auschwitz. Angela and I along with my brother Gavin and sisters Johnetta and Jackie travelled to Kraków and had an inspiring stay. We visited The Concentration Camps, which was truly horrific, moving and very infomative. I truly believe everyone should visit Auchwitz at least once in their lives to see how cruel man can be to their own kind. I had an inspiring week with my family, we also visited Shindlers factory and the local Salt mines. The break we had was truly inspiring in so many ways. It made me realise that I am so very lucky.

We had a taste for travelling and this time it was Angela’s choice as to our destination. She decided on warmer climes and we all ended up travelling to Lanzarote again. I loved it with my family round me, sun shining and a glorious outdoor swimming pool. I once more especially enjoyed going into the swimming pool where I could walk normally as the water would take my weight and assist my balance. It didn’t matter if I fell. The sun shone and I must admit to having a couple of Gin and Tonics lying sunbathing. We had a lovely week, but like most holidays it was over much to soon. It was nice to return home though beside my daughter and my animals. We had a pretty good season as far as the Hotel was concerned but my wife was beginning to tire, having to do everything on her own as well as looking after me. The first year of me being home was exceptionally busy for those around me. I was quite unrelenting with my demands and found that I became fixated with things. I was still receiving my weekly physio, speech and occupational therapy on a weekly basis but that ended  as my time was up. The NHS had stopped my therapy as there where other people who required the time of the dedicated experts. I don’t hold any ill feeling or grudges as to this. Quite simply things had run their course and I thank those who helped me, it was a pleasure to know them it was now time to help myself a bit more.

          I was regaining the use of my left hand and to further the healing process, I was told to try and use it a little more. One day my mobile phone rang so I picked up using my left hand. I put it to my ear but it was not working. I changed hands, put it to my right ear and it worked. I chatted for a while then said my goodbyes. I got to thinking about the phone and how it worked intermittently. I asked my wife to phone me. I put the phone to my left ear, nothing. I put the phone to my right ear, it was working again. Shit! I was deaf in my left ear. On top of everything I was deaf in one ear. This worried me so, because my wife had bought me a record player for Christmas and it was stereo. What a waste of money!

          I attended a brain injury group with seven other people. We used to meet on a weekly basis and I found this to stimulating and good fun as well. My speech and more importantly my confidence talking in company was improving. To quickly the course was over, but as we all got on so well I suggested we should all meet up for a coffee and a chat every Tuesday. I arrived at the cafe the following week, full of trepidation about who, if anyone, would turn up. Soon three more guys turned up and we all had a good chat and a coffee. We still maintain the weekly coffee mornings and there are now five of us attending, some with their wives. We still meet up with my shrink but more on an ad hoc basis. Angela and I still gain a lot from these sessions and it gives us an opportunity to work through any ongoing problems.

          Throughout my short period of being not able, I am not disabled but just not able at the moment. I have met a good many people and made many new friends. One of the most talked about subjects is. Disability benefits. Or I should say, lack of disability benefit and the difficulty in gaining access to these benefits. I realise that in obtaining the benefit you should have to go through a vigorous vetting procedure as we don’t want fraudsters taking advantage. But, the procedure, as it stands, is truly strenuous on those people who are entitled. This country, which I worked for, paying my taxes, all my working life, took it gladly. Now that people like myself, who have been contributing to the pot need something back, we are being told NO! I realise two wrongs do not make a right but the way in which invalid benefit is reported, you would not be alone in thinking it rife. In fact the present fraudulent claims are running at around 0.3%. The people who are interviewed by the ” medical practitioner” and have their benefit stopped are numerous but upon appeal some 80% regain their benefits. Money well spent employing these “medical practitioners”  It all goes to show how warped the reporting of these instances are. Right soap box removed.

      I attended the local Headway meeting a  group for people who, like myself, have sustained head injuries, were I met some good friends, received some helpful advice and met people who had been through a very similar experience to myself and my wife. In order to raise money for the group they were staging a triathlon. The plan was to get as many members as possible to take part and run, cycle and swim the triathlon distance on gym apparatus We trained at a local gym for many weeks and collected sponsorship for the event. I raised ,no my family and friends raised £1500 for this event. I swam 6 lengths of the pool, drinking about 20 litres of the water, I remembered during my time in the Falkland Islands swimming a mile in the pool every second day, I ran 1/4 of a mile holding on to the running machine, well walked anyway with support of the gym staff. The I cycled 8 miles on the cycle machine. I must admit it was good fun and gave me a sense of purpose.

 I was allocated a listener. Someone to come round to our house and chat with me. This lady was a volunteer and is a lovely person, her dad had been in the RAF, hence she had grown up in a Service environment. Her husband was also in the RAF, so we has plenty to talk about. In fact, she dedicated a lot of her life for the good of others. We meet on a weekly basis and chat about families, life, in fact anything and everything. Her sense of humour is in tune with mine and we have a great laugh I really enjoy our meetings. It also gives Angela some respite in order that she could relax a little. This lady has been a lot of help to me, through her volunteering, she also works for the Royal Air Force Association and has arranged assistance from them. Again somebody I will be eternally grateful to. I don’t mean for this story of mine to be a homage to everyone but there are so many people who have helped us and we are so grateful to, without them I would not be here nor would we be in such a good position, I really mean that, I realise how close I have come to ending all of this. I am pleased to say that at more than one time throughout this journey I wasn’t bothered if I lived or died. But those moments are well and truly behind me, I am glad to be alive and more to the point glad to be bloody annoying.

          When I left the RAF it was our idea to run our guesthouse and make our living that way but soon realised that we needed a better income in order to live life as we were accustomed. I decided that I would seek employment. The first job I got was servicing fire extinguishers all over the UK. This meant me being away from my family during the week. This did not sit very well with me as the main reason for leaving the RAF was to spend more time with my family and to be honest the job was more about selling extinguishers than servicing them. Travelling home one Friday I was mulling all of this over and decided that having a shitty job that I didn’t enjoy was not worth it. I pulled over went the pub were I bought a bottle of Budweiser, phoned my boss and handed in my notice. I must admit he was a true gent about it and didn’t make me work my notice. Then I went on to work for the prison service for a further 8 years. Not even so much as a scratch befell me in my places of work, then as a hotelier this happened, all I can say is none of us know what is round the next corner. Back to our story.

          We, as a family unit were happy, our daughter Lucy was attending University in Carlisle and was completing her degree in Theatre and dance. She was due to graduate which Angela and I would attend. On the day we travelled up to be there and we proudly watched our daughter graduate. It was such a great moment for us all,  especially after all that had happened, and the disruptions to her studies.

We all had a lovely time as well as an enjoyable stay in Carlisle. I was bursting with pride at her (my daughters) achievement. We enjoyed our few days celebrating her achievement through her own hard work and dedication. I will always remember her being presented with her diploma, everyone stood up and applauded the students as they graduated. I’m so pleased to say that I managed to stand with pride for all my daughter had achieved as well( OK, with a bit of help from Angela).

          Lucy was home again after her 3 years at University, it as so nice to have her home on a permanent basis. I know that Angela was pleased to have some female company, I was now being nagged by two women! Happy days are here again. Lucy found a local job and was still singing with a band, plus staying here rent free. She was an industrious young lady, working hard with her job and with her singing. Angela and I went to watch her as often as we could, we would and will carry on giving her all the support she may need.

          Daniel Angela’s eldest son was living in Manchester with his daughter and his girlfriend. His daughter, Mollie was 14 and had lost her mum due to a bleed on the brain some years ago. Daniel was 15 when I met and married his mum, so quite rightly, he does not look upon me as his father. But I am so proud of him in the way he has taken care of Mollie since the passing of her mum. We love seeing Mollie and her new little sister Harriet, again Angela enjoys a chinwag with Daniels partner Gemma, and especially likes seeing her grandchildren. I think she enjoys the company of family and friends as well as the escapism from looking after me. I like it that Angela sees other friends and that she doesn’t have to concentrate on taking care of me. It has taken her a long time to realise that she doesn’t have to be there for me all the time. It makes me feel so much better knowing she has a life outside of looking after my needs.

          Anyway I diversify again, those who know me, will know that I never give my mouth a rest. I have always got something to say on any subject. Though that may be, I am not self opinionated, well that’s my opinion anyway!

           I spend many a day listening to my records, I don’t watch tv much as my sight is a bit dodgy and I find it hard work trying to focus on the screen. Unless Hearts are playing football, I always manage to watch my glorious team. I tend to listen to a lot of music though and now have a collection of over 300 records, most from the 80 s which was my growing worldly wise period. I love listening to music and find it gives me some escapism from being unable to do as much as I used too.

I was happy to be home amongst the people I loved and find I have settled in to my new life. The thought that makes me feel happiest is, if this had to happen, I was glad that it was me that it happened to. It would have been so much worse had this happened to any of my loved ones. I kept myself busy attending different clubs, therapy sessions and indeed having people visit me. I am a great believer that a busy mind is a contented mind. No not contented but happy, I must admit, I felt happy. It’s not the years you put on your life, but the life you put in your years that counts. I found that I was still becoming annoyed somewhat easily. This was down to many factors including the fact that though I could not operate as I once did upset me as my injury had left my mentality intact. I was very much aware of my poor motor skills. Shit, I even found difficulty in doing up my own buttons. I am not a patient man at the best of times and had no patience with myself in this present predicament. This led to a high level of frustration on my part. I also suffered with a condition called ataxia. This causes my hand to shake uncontrollably and means I cannot carry our simple tasks such as shaving or chopping foodstuff. Keep all sharp objects away, should be a sign positioned above my head. As you can imagine, I find this infuriating and very frustrating, not being able to carry out simple every day tasks.

          One of the upsides to not shaving, is the fact that I now visit the barbers for a wet shave. It has been many years since I last needed the use of a barber. Gaz uses a cut throat razor and I feel so refreshed afterwards. He sometimes takes his dog to the shop, Max is very friendly and whilst I was waiting, he allowed Max to climb on to my lap. Gaz was chatting to a customer who was having a haircut. He pointed at Max, who was happily sat on my lap, and told the bloke having his haircut. He is having the hair around his arse trimmed. Quick as a flash, I said, No I’m only here for a shave. The bloke moved quickly once his hair had been cut remarking he was moving quickly in case Gaz had any ideas about giving him a trim.

        I get by day to day using my sense of humour a bit too much at times. I need a queue from Ange when is and isn’t a joking time. I think joking is my inbuilt coping mechanism. Sometimes I am unaware of the seriousness of a given situation and not to joke. My sense of humour has changed somewhat, I find the strangest things funny and am known to laugh at the wrong moment. Only sometimes and those moments are fortunately few and far between. Well I think so anyway.

         Another of my traits is becoming fixated on things, I am forever asking Angela the same thing over and over again. For instance if I need something doing, I tend to need it done now if not sooner. I also have an obsession with colour changing lights. Our TV now has a backlight, the mirror in our lounge has a colour changing strip light behind it, the lamp has a colour changing light bulb which is also a Bluetooth speaker. My loo has a motion sensor colour changing light. You get what I mean! I also love anything with the Union flag on it. I know my fixations but cannot stop them or indeed do anything about them. They are harmless enough but believe me when I say they are bloody annoying to those around me.

          My memory is all there as well. I am good a recollecting moments in our lives and still remember to forget Angela and I wedding anniversary! I remember things in the long term but sometimes forget things that have just happened. I will come out of the shower in the morning and think, did I brush my teeth this morning? I will only know by the minty taste in my mouth. But I guess we all suffer from forgetfulness to some degree. It is that I tend to put my every failing of mine under the microscope.

          Now I’ve always been quite an emotional fellow but since this incident I have become ever so much more unable to control my emotions. I dread saying goodbye to anyone because my crying becomes unstoppable. In some ways I think that I have reverted to a child. But as time has passed I have slowly began to keep a check on my emotions. I realise that this makes things easier for everyone, myself included.

         We believed that keeping me occupied was helpful to my recovery, sometimes I lay in bed in the morning telłing Angela I can’t be bothered today. But she, like a true Trojan, tells me to get up and makes sure I keep myself busy. I attend a centre every Friday that gives Angela some small small respite (not that she needs it). I enjoy going along, meeting new people and keeping busy. I play dominoes in the morning with friends and after lunch I do soapstone carving which I enjoy immensely. I am getting to know the others who attend and I do enjoy meeting up with them. By the way soapstone is what the statue of Jesus on Sugar Loaf Mountain is made from. It is a mandible stone that is easy to work with using files to shape it.

         I try to keep myself busy and meet up with many friends throughout the week. My friend Raymond and I are season ticket holders at Fleetwood Town FC and we enjoy watching the football every second Saturday. Raymond and his wife Angela live  a few doors down from us and are invaluable friends to both of us.

They have been so supportive to us both and Angela enjoys a good chinwag with Raymond’s wife Angela. Raymond enjoys Brandy which I have no time for but Angela likes a wee whisky which is much more to my palate. My week is quite structured and I have things happening most days of the week, in fact I am quite happy of a day off now and again. My first year of being home after my nasty knock on the head was fraught with challenges. I thought I could do more than I really could. I would furniture surf trying to walk. This led to many a fall, none as serious as the one that got me into this predicament thankfully. But frightening all the same, and bloody sore as well, but I’ve always said you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette. I received a walking frame from the NHS along with a perching stool for use in the kitchen and a wheelchair. I found them all extremely helpful and the walking frame was a godsend. It ensured I could move around the house relatively safely, giving me back some much needed independence. One of the most hurtful things since my accident, is not being able to do things I once could. Having to watch Angela do tasks such as retiring a plug really hurts me. I’m so lucky to have such a handy wife. No task seems to much for her.

          I know that should this incident have befallen any of my family or loved ones I would have been inconsolable. So fortunately for me, I was the recipient of this nasty knock on the head, I like so many others will always look for a positive in every given situation. I guess it is what keeps us all going. Around five years ago Angela was diagnosed with cancer and throughout her stay in hospital I visited her every day. Fortunately the operation was a success and she was rid of the dreaded cancer. Last year we received devastating news that the cancer had returned. She had to go in for an operation, the difference this time was my not being in the position to visit her whilst she recovered. This really hurt me, but her sister came up from London and drove me to the hospital each day. Angela has now recovered from a successful operation and will now be monitored regularly by the doctor. Life certainly throws you a few curve balls but we all struggle through diversity. The first year after my incident I don’t think that I had accepted that this was my life now. I said to many family members and friends that I had accepted what had happened. But truth be known, I hadn’t. I now know from experience that acceptance is the first part of the healing process. Once I accepted what had happened I began the healing process properly, taking thing one day at a time. Well not really taking things slowly because I have always been impetuous. My impetuousness seemed to be magnified now. I was trying to walk before I could crawl. Fortunately for me I had all the support one could want, both professionally and through my family and friends and they all worked hard to my benefit. I was not the most accepting of the help coming my way, I sometimes felt patronised and picked on. Again those feelings came from non acceptance of my injuries. I have always gotten on so well with our daughter Lucy. In fact we are very close and have always been so. I could not handle her taking over the role of being more adult than me, her dad. I know that our relationship has suffered through my not being able to accept the new me. I love her dearly and know that feeling is reciprocated but I also realise I am not the most likeable of people, that hurts because I had gone through life being extremely likeable.

          My relationship with Angela was changing as well, I am a great believer in being the breadwinner for the family. This of course has all changed since the incident. It hurts so much when she does things that I traditionally did. I am not nor have ever been a lazy man but when Angela carries out the tasks I traditionally did I tend to stay out of the way due to the hurt it inflicts on me. Angela is not afraid of dirtying her hands, she is a true grafter and she has been and forever will be my rock.

          I was repairing all the time and my speech, though slurred and slow was eligible. I have always said that the one thing I would love to have back is my powers of speech. I was always one to voice my opinions and be heard. In fact I was an instructor at the RAF Fire school for five years so was use to being heard in the classroom and the fireground. I then went on to become a recruiter for the RAF spending my time in the Portsmouth recruiting office. My voice was important to me and the world would be much the poorer without my cracking sense of humour.

          My first year was experimental in trying out what I could and couldn’t do, unfortunately this led to many an accident on my part. I would try, try, try if I failed at anything, not accepting failure. But much to my disgust I would have to retire defeated, bruised and hurting. I soon found out that I suffered terribly with fatigue which would manifest into slurred speech and a quick temper. My dog Alfie never left my side throughout that year, I think he was afraid I might go away for a while again, either that or he was just happy to lay on the settee next to me getting little treats now and then. I also found him to be a snitch, anytime I tried to get to my feet or do anything he would bark incessantly until Angela came to see what I was up to. I couldn’t get away with anything with him around.

         We have quite a menagerie at home there is Monty our African Grey Parrott, Alfie our Yorkshire Terrier, Chelsea The pug, Rudie the Pomeranian, umpteen tropical fish, Pickle the cat and of course all my Lovebirds. They all keep Angela busy with her feeding, watering and cleaning them, I find them good company, apart from the fish. I like to watch them as I listen to my records. Fish being good company is pushing things a bit far, my name is Sam Dilly not Dam Silly.

          I came a long way physically in my first year quickly learning my abilities as well as my inabilities, painful though it was, I had to learn. It was not until two years after the incident that I coped mentally with what had happened. That was a real turning point, it had taken a while but I know that my shrink had a lot to do with my realisation and more importantly acceptance of the situation in which I found us in.

          I enjoy going out for meals with friends and realised that I had not been doing this very often. The main reason was the fact that I could not walk without aid meant I used Angela as a human crutch when walking in or out of restaurants. This afforded us some strange looks and mutterings of I think that guy has had a few too many. People where looking upon me as a drunk and even worse passing judgment. Through my acceptance of who I was now, I decided that anyone passing judgement on me had plenty more problems than me. Plenty more and a whole lot greater than mine. Our social life was getting a whole lot better and our group of friends growing all the time. I must admit to enjoying a shandy or two every now and again but realised that after my life threatening incident, in order to allow my brain repair, that alcohol was counter productive. I now allow myself a pint of lager when we go out for a meal. I enjoyed cooking before my nasty fall and resumed this hobby, but the difference this time being no sharp instruments. I still suffered from a lack of hand eye coordination. I once again enjoyed making Indian cuisine from scratch. Years ago whilst in Germany, Angela worked in a bar for NAAFI and we decided to have a dining experience for the customers. I made Indian food for them and it was a resounding success.

          I still did not do as much as I wanted to but I was at least doing something which did a lot for my self esteem and indeed my confidence. For instance, I would ask Angela to make me a cup of coffee whenever I wanted one and she would always oblige. Then I got to thinking, something as simple as a cup of coffee should be within my capabilities. So I asked Angela that in future, should I ask her for a cups, tell me to get it myself. She happily obliged. I make my own coffee but we deemed it too dangerous for me to carry a boiling beverage to my seat due to my ataxia and lack of balance. I had lost around three stone since the nasty fall and was now regaining lost weight. I never really liked chocolate before the incident but now loved it. I can always remember, as a kid, my dad eating his dinner and then telling my mum that he would forgo dessert. I used to cringe and think your missing out on the best part of the meal. I then became like him, never having dessert, enjoying spice over sweet any day. This all changed, I now enjoy my desserts and have a desire for sweet things. I especially love chocolate hobnobs, not dark chocolate, it’s got to be milk chocolate. I think it is really weird how much your taste and preferences change after a nasty knock on the head. Angela, Lucy and I were adjusting alł the time and trying to lead as normal a life as we could. The differences in me really took their toll on Lucy, she was used to me being able to turn my hand to most things and we shared an interest in lots of things, music being our main commonality. Being wrapped up with myself I totally missed the fact she was having a hard time coming to terms with what had happened. We still had our music and other things but I was not communicating as I should have with her. II must admit that the most painful thing about my nasty knock is the fact my relationship with my daughter has suffered. I think I was finding out as much as her that our relationship was changing and it hurt. I was no longer her invincible dad, just plain old dad and that made me feel inadequate. I knew she deserved better and I was no longer in the position to do that for her. Our relationship was strained at times but that was down to me not coping with my problems. I found it so hard that my daughter was telling me what to do. I knew she was doing this for my own good but it was a complete change and I was going to endure a lot of difficulty in accepting this.

          The second year after the incident saw my acceptance of the situation. Though I told everybody I had accepted what had happened to me I still felt a bit of a fraud. I likened myself to Jack Nicholson in One Few Over The Cuckoos Nest. Now it was time to get on with my life accept what had happened and I was certainly going to do that. I was a lucky man with a loving wife, family and friends. I needed to remember this and embrace these facts. I am not one for anniversaries but will always remember the anniversary of the incident. Not through some morbid yearning but because it was a life changing moment for me and those around me. We started to socialise a lot more, not just for my good but also Angela’s. We went to see a Morrissey concert in Manchester which was quite amazing, we really enjoyed ourselves and it was like taking my wife on a date. I did think things were moving too fast when she took me to the loo though.

          I remember thinking at the concert that the last band I had seen were Madness along with Lucy and Luke. That was just a couple of days before the incident that was to shape our life’s. My love of music has been unwavering and as a family we have surrounded ourselves with music from lots of different genres. Our guesthouse was still open for business and a busy period for us is during Rebellion Punk festival. This year was no different and we had guests as far away from America stay during this festival. We also had members of a punk band stop with us and they happily entertained, singing and playing guitar for me. Knowing I was a collector of records they also gave me a couple of vinyl records they had cut themselves.

          We have owned the guesthouse for 13 years and some of the first guests we had staying with us where from The George Formby Society. They attend Blackpool for times a year and boast hundreds of members. Some of them stay with us and instead of being guests are now true friends. This is how I first met Gerry and his wife Vivienne. Gerry is now the president of the society’s do Vivienne the secretary. When they all come to Blackpool, they pass the ukulele round in the bar and we have a great sing song together. This is enjoyable and I’m glad to say helps make their weekend. I enjoy our get together soon and visit the society meetings at the Imperial Hotel.  Because of the nasty knock on the head I received nothing changed. This suited me and it was refreshing to be treated normally.

          Angela went on holiday to Lanzarote with her big sister whilst I stayed at home. My sister Johnetta came to watch the house and I looked after her whilst Angela was on holiday. The week went well with Johnetta putting up with my mood swings. The main thing was the fact that Angela was enjoying herself in Lanzarote and a rest from me. She returned refreshed and more importantly ready to put up with me.  We visited my family in Edinburgh, Angela’s mum and dad in Margate. I think we were pretty busy enjoying ourselves and I was busy annoying people with my presence, nothing changes! We did notice however, that visits from some friends were becoming less frequent. This didn’t bother us too much though as we had good friends who we spent a lot of time with.

          My record collection was growing all the time and Angela took my to Sunday morning boot fairs where we would seek for the stalls selling records. I often returned home with a good selection of records. I also frequented a shop in Blackpool which dealt in vinyl records and the lady there would keep back any records she thought I might like. I invariably bought these from her, my collection was taking over! Much to Angela’s annoyance I had also taken to buying things online. I used to toll eBay looking for bargains and one day bought a jukebox for £70. Alas this was not a jukebox but the glass lid for a jukebox. Angela had fun explaining my error. Fortunately eBay saw the error that had been made and rescinded my winning bid. Phew!  Angela has since closed my PayPal account, should I be tempted again. We where attending our local gym and I was joining in with circuit training with the assistance of Angela, we met many people there and forged some lovely friendships. Unfortunately we could not always make it there due to guests arriving at the guesthouse. We had many customers who had stayed with us before and I had not suffered from my nasty knock on the head when I last saw them. They were shocked to see the effects of my trauma but soon realised that it was the same old Keith. Always ready with a joke and making sure their stay with us was enjoyable.  Accepting that I could not do all the tasks I used too, though hard to accept, was the making of me. I had to become a patient man which was something new to me but being thus led to my not becoming so frustrated with myself or those around me. Well not as much as frustration is always with us but I could at long last control my frustrations. This second year after the incident was to be full of me relearning everyday procedures and how best to enjoy life once again. Yes that was so important to me, that I and my loved ones get back to enjoying life. We had been to long fo using on me and more to the point I was focusing on what I couldn’t now do as opposed to what I could do. Angela and Lucy endured my warped sense of humour very well, I would laugh at the most inappropriate things and my timing left a lot to be desired, but they quickly realised that this was down to my head injury. I myself, worked hard at being more appropriate in everything I did and Angela and I had a code worked out to keep me more or less on track. I find that being appropriate and timing my reactions is becoming something I control through self monitoring. It has been hard work on my part and taken a lot of perseverance from my loved ones, they would probably claim some of the hard work as well. I’m not saying I was by any means perfect but damn, I was close.

          Year two since my nasty knock saw my return to Tynecastle to watch my beloved team Heart of Midlothian. My friends JP and James got the announcer at the stadium to welcome me through his PA system at half time. This was really good of them and helped in making my visit so enjoyable. My stay in Edinburgh was once again a lovely occasion seeing all my family and friends once more. During our visit Angela bumped a car up the rear. We sat in our car surveying a small crack on the rear bumper of the car in front of us. The door opened and out jumped a dwarf. He tapped on my window which I wound down. He pointed at the crack in his rear bumper and said I’m not happy! Which one are you then? Was my reply.

          Remember I’m not quite perfect, only close! Bloody close. My collection of Lovebirds was growing all the time. There where many different colours of plumage. I had peach faced and masked lovebirds and they where a great joy to me. One day I was watching them flying around in the aviary. I knew that there where young chicks in a nest box and low and behold they chose that moment to try out their wings. Two you chicks flying about was lovely to watch but to my dismay the other birds in the aviary started to pick on one of the youngsters. It couldn’t find its way back to the nest box and was being pecked by the other adult birds. I decided to step in and put it in a cage indoors. I named him Hector, he was green with a peach coloured face. As he could not feed himself, we used a syringe to feed him a soft food called egg food, which he took to well. Angela would feed him about every two hours and he would hungrily hog the lot. Hector soon became very tame and would jump on to you if you proffered an arm. He would spend most of the day out of the cage and on someone’s shoulder. He loved being next to anybody, but Lucy had a little Pomeranian dog who would jump up at him whenever he could. We where due to visit my family in Edinburgh and asked Ray and Angela’s daughter and her partner if they would look after Hector for us. They had just lost their dog and where deeply upset. They said they would happily take care of Hector for the week, so he was delivered to them in his cage. We had a lovely time in Edinburgh whilst Marie and Bev had a lovely time looking after Hector and judging by the Facebook pictures Hector was having a lovely time making himself at home with them. Upon our return from Edinburgh, we collected Hector but every time we let him out of his cage the dog would jump up at him. Deciding that Hector needed his freedom and not to be shut in his cage all the time we asked Marie and Bev if they would like Hector as a pet. They, fortunately, for all concerned jumped at the chance. Hector is still happily with them and just a few days ago laid an egg. (Hectorina). I visited a bird auction near Wigan with Angela and they had a few lovebirds. I spotted some white ones which were not heard of years ago. I told Ange that I would have to buy one, there where three in all. Angela was sitting in front of me when the action began. When the first white lovebird came up for sale I was the highest bidder and bought it. The second bird came up for sale, unbeknown to Angela I also bought that one. Then the third came up far sale. I remember us travelling home after the auction with all three of them and four Chinese Painted Quail or CPQ to us bird lovers and breeders. Well  at least I was happy, I usually am when I get my own way. We only went to the auction once more though, I I think Ange was afraid of what I might end up buying. We travelled down to the Norfolk Broads for a break with Angela’s mum and dad. We had a lovely time travelling the Broads in our boat and watching the wildlife was lovely. We even had time to visit a pet shop in Norwich where I bought a pair of lovebirds.

I was keeping myself busy at home, attending courses and groups which aided Angela and I in making the transition to our new lives. We were still meeting up with or friends for a coffee, seeing my shrink, visiting Headway and being visited by Leslie my listener. We where finding our way to building a new routine for me, which was doing us all the world of good. Our daughter Lucy, had put up with a lot and had become interested in the therapy I was receiving, so much so that she has decided to go back to university to become an Occupational Therapist and help people who find themselves in situations similar to mine and hers. We participated in helping Headway raise funds and quite importantly giving me a sense of worth. This was of major importance to me because it showed me I could once again contribute meaningfully.

          During the second year since my nasty knock I was not always the happy go lucky guy that I usually am. I still succumbed to some pretty low moods some deep depressions and my wife took the brunt of these. I would verbally attack her at times, but she was so understanding and forgiving of my mood swings that I realise how blessed I am. I was always really happy or low but since this incident everything is magnified and my moods seem to be at the front when it comes to magnification. As you can imagine, this is not a good thing when my mood is low. I realise now that year two was the year of my dawning. I became comfortable with my lack of ability to do some of the things I took for granted and was continually relearning. I was once again at peace with myself which might sound a bit blaze but it was another enormous step on my road to recovery. I know that you must be happy and comfortable with yourself in order too mend. It is all about mind over matter, lots of hard work and determination.  I was also now thinking of others which was certainly something new to me, well the new me anyway. I was still visiting my family and friends as well as them visiting us in Blackpool. We went to the Norfolk Broads with Angela’s family, where we had two boats. It was a lovely week and we enjoyed going up the river and visiting various pubs and restaurants. There is an unwritten rule whist boating along on the broads. You must always wave and acknowledge other boat users. We always did so, then one day Angela noticed she was getting some strange looks from fellow boat users. She turned to me in order to say as much. It was then that she caught me sticking two fingers up to passing boats. Caught again! We did manage to buy a couple of Lovebirds in Norwich which delighted me. That Christmas we visited Angela’s mum and dad in Margate and had a lovely family Christmas. We enjoyed being with Daniel, Mollie, Gemma and Harriet as well as everyone else. That New Year was spent with my side of the family in Edinburgh. We again had a wonderful time in celebration. Christmas and New Year over I didn’t go into depression but looked forward to what life had in store for me. I might have been slightly depressed as to how badly Hearts were doing at times. I felt good though and was looking to the future for all of us, not with trepidation as I was by now used to, but with a feeling of well being and contentment. I will tell you that feeling content was something I had not felt in a long long time. We were beginning to understand the routine by now. Everyone kept my mind happily occupied and I kept myself busy enjoying my daily routine, that’s all it took. I will say that one thing on a day to day basis that really annoys me is when people talk to me but address my wife. I think Angela must have gotten use to it during my RAF career as she was always ” the wife of”. I would say to everyone, when talking with someone who has a disability. Address them, not their partner, Carer or person they happen to be with. I, as you can probably guess, enjoy a good rant at times.

Year 3 and for once I did not really notice the anniversary of the incident, yes I was aware of the date but had recovered sufficiently to put it way behind me now. I know it was life changing but I was in a good place now and what had happened in the past was of no real significance to me. I realised that I had my life to live and that those people I loved had their lives to live as well. I sure was not going to spoil it for them. I was going to Headway on Tuesday and my brain injury group. On a Thursday I would meet up with my friends for a coffee. I would spend Friday’s at Warren Manor, Saturday’s at Fleetwood Town FC watching the football or watching the scores as they happen on Soccer Saturday. I was busy most days and my routine was working well for us all. Lucy was working locally as a sales assistant waiting to go back to University where she had been accepted for an Occupational Therapist course. She takes after her dad as far as her work ethos goes, I was never afraid of hard work.

          I was now living my life to the fullest extent now and we were enjoying life again after our struggles. I of course had my moments, as we all do. But we managed these as well as we could. Three years after my nasty knock on the head we had our new bathroom fitted. There were handles and a stool in the shower which enabled me to sit down whilst showering and to get around safely, a shower with a seat so I could once again wash my own feet (they were ponging a bit) and a bi-fold door importantly allowing me privacy. It was amazing how much something as simple as a user friendly bathroom could enhance my life. I certainly appreciated what may seem like a small thing structurally. As far as my day to day living was concerned, this was a monumental change for the better.  It was well worth waiting for and i wish that we have afforded to have it done years ago.

          I was attending Fleetwood Town home games with my friend Ray, we were season ticket holders and had many an enjoyable Saturday attending the games. I love going to the football and it gives me a feeling of independence. It also has the added bonus of giving Angela a break from me and believe me when I say she needed a break from my constant needs and wants. I am not painting myself kindly but believe me when I say that as nice as I am this journey is no picnic and takes a lot of hard work patience and understanding by everyone involved. As proud as we are, we have had to request help. If anything not asking for assistance was our downfall throughout this part of our lives. There are many people and agencies out there ready to offer assistance, it is just up to us in recognising when help is required.

Angela and Lucy went to Euro Disney and I stayed at home, my sister staying with me in Blackpool. They had a lovely time in Paris as I did in Blackpool. My sister loves browsing in charity shops and I do as well, so we did a lot of browsing. My other love is pound shops and we spent lots of time in those as well. It was nice that Angela and Lucy spent a few days together without having to worry about me.

Well our journey is coming to an end and but before I go I will summarise the injuries that remain with today. I have lost my balance which means I walk with a frame or use a wheelchair, my eyesight is bad, my speech slurred, I am deaf in one ear, no sense of smell, ataxia ( my left arm has spasms), fatigue I tire easily and constantly, weakness in my left hand. I do however think I am lucky, things could have been so much worse. Indeed things are a lot more difficult for many people. Life is for the living, it is our duty to make the most of it.

          I feel that I have told you my perspectives on these life changing turn of events. I may have gotten slightly mixed up as to when different event happened but it is as I remember our journey. This after all, my perspective on events and I will not change the sequence of events Angela will tell you if there is any difference. I will now hand over to Angela and Lucy in order for them to give you their perspectives and how this incident has shaped their lives. I have one thing to say that a good friend once told me. Throughout life you will have many regrets, but keep them in Check. Regret what you didn’t do in life, not what you have done. That is, unless you are reading this from a prison cell’. I will say that, though I have interspersed my tale with jokes,  this whole experience has been life changing, hard work and totally frustrating for myself and those who I care about. Through it all my wife and daughter have been strong and loving as have all my family and friends. I wish to thank everyone but to them I cannot begin to comprehend what they have been through and still going through. I have been called a lazy bastard, from a person who knows no better, but I will give them the benefit of the doubt, I know they do not understand what I and my close family have and are going through. Thoughtless and selfish, I may be at times, but lazy is something as anyone who really knows me that is totally alien to me. The fatigue I suffer at times makes it understandable that the persons and not my lack of knowledge leads to this wrong assumption, their lack of knowledge on the subject of brain injury is their ignorance and they are being judgemental through their lack of knowledge, understanding and dislike for me. I can’t be liked by everyone, though I am damn close. God knows I have gone through life picking up deserved labels but refuse to accept labels I don’t deserve.

We were woken up at 3.00 in the morning with a phone call nobody ever wants to receive. Preston hospital critical care unit informing us Keith had had an accident they couldn’t elaborate on that   “Just get here as quick as you can  but drive carefully”  was all I remember.  I don’t remember a thing about the drive from Margate to Preston , but we got there.

Luke was waiting for us at the hospital  he had driven down from Scotland, the doctor were waiting for myself and Lucy Before they could say what was happening. we were taken into a room where we were broken the news that Keith had somehow had a fall and had sustained a  traumatic brain injury. It was uncertain if he would recover his condition was critical. The exact diagnosis was a bi-frontal contusions,traumatic subarachnoid haemorrhage, occipital and left mastoid fracture or as Keith now puts it a nasty knock on the head.  Every image went through my mind, nothing made sense.. I was talking to him hours earlier and now we could loose him.

Nothing can prepare you for the sight of your loved one  wires and tubes everywhere laying motionless.

We sat for hours just watching, hoping and praying for  some improvement in his condition. You are in your own little world unaware of what’s going on around you, trying to make sense of how this could have happened. He had fallen down the stairs at home, we found this strange because we lived on the ground floor, so there was no need to be upstairs. 101 questions going round in my head why,how and what next.  All we wanted was Keith back with us.

Nearly a week went by and there was no change in his condition, then we got another early morning phone call Keith’s condition had deteriorated and they were taking him into surgery.

He required an external ventricular drain for hydrocephalus what next is life going to throw at us. All we could do was hope he pulled through. All the time Luke had been at the hospital daily he hadn’t been in to see Keith he couldn’t bear to see him in such a grave condition but after ‘this scare he changed his mind

Weeks went by and thanks to the family and friends we managed to cope, everyone was brilliant and I can’t thank them enough. It was our busiest time in the hotel and guests were arriving, I was trying to keep things going but all the time my priority was Keith. Thanks to Lucy,Luke,Daniel, Johnetta, Jackie, Gavin, and my sister Linda who all managed to rally round and kept the hotel running. Looking back I don’t know how we got through it.

Specialists tried several times to bring Keith out of the enduced comma but he wasn’t having it. Stubborn git that’s one thing about him that hadn’t changed. Every time we thought this is it, he will open his eyes and talk to us but unfortunately life is not like on tv.  Eventually he did respond he opened his eyes but there was nothing there my heart sank.

Lucy was very upset one particular day and one very tactless nurse said get a grip this may be as good as he gets. She had obviously had a good day, not. I was so angry but it made me think oh god she might be right.

Keith slowly started to respond to voices, squeezing hands and opening his eyes but as I said it was slow. But we remained hopeful.

I vividly remember one day I was singing Keith’s favourite George formby song Frank on his tank, we were trying anything to bring him back, and as I was singing he raised his arm and started to strum like he was playing a ukulele. I was so excited I rushed out and got Lucy, it was such an important moment.   Keith was in there and he did remember.  Another set back was Keith suffered from phenomena his lungs filled with fluid he was unable to swallow, days turned into weeks and travelling to Preston everyday became a way of life. The only thing that changed was the faces in the. Waiting room we got to know everyone and everyone seemed to be keen to share their loved ones stories, helping others through thief ups and downs.A lot not as lucky as we were .  about 6 weeks later they moved Keith out of the critical care unit into a high dependency ward. To us this was a big step in the right direction.

We found this hard to cope with though as there was a strict visiting time Just 2 hours in the afternoon and the same in the evening we were use to staying as long as we liked which was 8 in the morning till 10 at night.

Keith could now acknowledge things with thumbs up and down for yes and no, he was still unable to talk and slept most of the time.

He was only there for a few days and they said they were thinking of moving him to Blackpool which would be much better for us.

Every night I called the hospital to make sure he was ok on this particular evening I called and they said he wasn’t there he had been moved they thought to Blackpool. I was frantic where was he.

We eventually found out he was in the stroke unit at Blackpool  I called them straight away and the kind bloke on the end of the phone said yes he is here with us I am looking at him now.  I was relieved.

At Blackpool hospital we were allowed to visit whenever we liked as Keith needed all the familiar faces to help him recover.

As Keith hadn’t suffered a stroke his bed on the stroke unit had to be given up to someone who had, which I could understand but it wasn’t easy to accept. He was moved to another ward which wasn’t really equipped for someone with his needs. There was no low level bed so he had two mattresses on the floor, so he didn’t hurt himself, not really ideal  but we managed.

Life was certainly going to be different but we were uncertain and unprepared for how different.

Although Keith was unable to speak we could see his sense of humour was still there and he found ways of communicating.

One of the problems he had was his inability to swallow, the specialist decided that they would fit a peg, instead of the tube in his nose which he was constantly pulling out. On the day of the surgery they discovered he had a bleed in his stomach so they cancelled the procedure and would try again in a couple of weeks. Believe it or not this turned out to be a blessing as in the following days they continued to test to see if his swallow was returning and thankfully it did. For the first time in weeks he was moving in the right direction.

Keith was moved once again to the stroke unit as this was more suited to his needs.

Over the next few weeks Keith continued to improve, one day we arrived,and he wasn’t in his bed we thought oh no what now. But to our surprise he has sitting in a chair to us this was another move in the right direction.

But as usual it was one step forward and two back. Keith had a fall and dislocated his finger we arrived to blood everywhere.

To say he was a pain in the arse was an understatement and all he wanted was to go home, he begged the doctors on a daily basis and eventually, after assessing the facilities at home they agreed. This was when the reality of it all hit me. How was I going to cope looking after my husband who needed constant supervision and assistance to do literally everything. At the same time run the hotel. It didn’t matter he was coming home and to him that was all that mattered. Thankfully we had amazing family and friends who I will be eternally grateful too. They helped us through that very difficult time and still continue to do so after nearly 4 years.

There was one thing I promised Keith and that was to take him to our daughters graduation. It wasn’t going to be easy and it took a lot of planning but we got him there and the look of pride on his face when the name Lucy Whigham was called out was a picture. For the first time in ages we were a happy family.

Life was defiantly different for all of us but most of all for Keith I could tell he was finding the new way of life hard, in fact we all were. We were at that stage in our lives where we were enjoying life, socialising going on the holidays and planning for the future. Now that had all changed. Still playing on my mind was how and why did this happen, what was Keith doing upstairs on that night.nothing made sense. He didn’t like talking about it but it was eating away at me. Then one day Keith was asked by someone how did the accident happen and he replied. “I was helping someone up the stairs who had had too much to drink ” this was the first time he had remembered anything and did explain the nagging unsolved question in my head. He doesn’t remember what happened after that but this did explain a lot.

Life became very hard and Keith seemed to be getting depressed I didn’t realise how much until he told me one day he thought we would be better off without him and that he had planned to take tablets. This was devastating why hadn’t I seen this happening, how had I let him get so low. How could he be so selfish after all we had been through to get him this far. All my thought were irrational and I realised I couldn’t Handle this on my own I needed to tell someone of his suisidal thoughts if I didn’t and I couldn’t stop him I would never forgive myself. We needed help.

Talking to someone else gave us both the help we needed to continue our life together.  We were both very open with our thoughts and anxieties and learnt what was going on in each other’s head. Life was getting better.

Before Keith’s accident Money had never been a real problem, obviously we would have liked more but who wouldn’t. But now we only had Keith’s RAF pension I was unable to take care of Keith and earn enough running the Hotel. This wasn’t enough to pay all the bills. So I started the long and frustrating claim for PIP The forms were not easy and with no help we filled them in and sent them off. About 10 months later we were sent for an assessment, in Preston at 9.00. When we got there the appointment was on the 2nd floor and as Keith was in a wheel chair he couldn’t use the lift in case of a fire and so they had to give us another appointment. They weren’t making it easy, several months later we got the assessment done. It then took another month for the decision. He was awarded the high rate of PIP but the lower rate for mobility. Wtf. they claimed in their opinion he could plan a route and take a journey unaided. I asked for this to be reconsidered and it was turned down. When Keith was told this he tried to take a journey unaided. I found him on the ground at the front of the hotel he had fallen while trying, thankfully he wasn’t badly. hurt We eventually got the decision over turned on appeal. All stress that ididn’t need.

Life was ticking along nicely Keith was not so depressed but another hurdle to get over was thrown at me.  It was inevitable that the considerable change in his life was going to cause him to get angry and frustrated but with this came an aggressive side of him I had never seen before.

Lucy went back to uni and gained a second degree. After seeing Occupational Therapists work with me she decided that was the career for her. We were extremely proud that she is, helping on a daily basis, all types of people who need it.

My wife Angela, has sadly passed after fighting cancer for over 10 years. She was and in my mind, still is my rock.