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Lifestory Showcase - Chappell
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When the Millennium 2000 began, I wondered just what was in store for me my 71st year. The first seven months flew by with all my usual daily, weekly and monthly events happening with a few changes along the way. I had a new private carer, which had not work out very well.
My first experience of hiring and firing, a bit unpleasant and at the time of writing I have not replaced her yet. By the end of the year, I had found the right person Marion, who keeps me and my house sparkling clean as well as bringing me in lovely hot meals, an extra special one on Christmas Day with turkey and ham sandwiches for later. But now Christmas is over as far as I am concerned, I was on my own most of the time, but had been out to celebrate twice the week before with friends.
I had been trying to arrange a holiday all the year, but was not able to find anyone suitable to accompany and care for me. So instead, I decided that it was time to have my bungalow decorated throughout. I eventually found the right man Tony, husband of one of our Home Carers; he began the task mid July and made a very good job of it.
He had just completed it except for a freeze of wallpaper to separate the two colours of paint in my long corridor. I said that I would go and get it while he finished off other jobs that day, Saturday August 5th. I arrived at Homebase and found a very good match. But I never arrived home that day. It was to be seven weeks later!
As on the way back, probably singing to myself and sailing along the redway, our very wide and safe cycle tracks throughout Milton Keynes on my sturdy Scooter. I somehow hit a bank along the way, finding myself up on two wheels instead of four, tipping over - which all happened in a very few moments.
I was shouting ‘my independence’ as I knew that I was going over, before banging my head on the hard ground and seeing a stream of blood flowing from my head. Shouted, Help! Help! A gang of young people were with me in no time at all as they were travelling along the main road above me. My head was soon being cradled in a young mans arms while someone else using a mobile phone was phoning an ambulance.
The ambulancemen seemed to be there immediately, lifting me on to a stretcher and one ambulance man saying, ‘This is the fourth scooter rider we have picked up recently’ so I knew that I wasn’t the first fool. I asked them in my pain to put me back on my scooter not knowing then what I had done. They said, ‘You are not going nowhere only to accidents and emergency with us.’
I was soon, in the ambulance not knowing quite what had hit me, wearing an oxygen mask. The next thing I remember is seeing the clock in Accident and Emergency was 6 o’clock exactly. I asked someone to phone my good friend Brian, who firstly kindly went out to rescue the scooter. They must have described exactly where it happened.
I had realised it was at a very low part of the redway, where no one may past for hours, but almost under a road bridge. Brian found the pool of blood first, and was deciding as to whether this was spilled paint or spilled blood! While he was stood there, a young man appeared, asking if he was looking for the ladies scooter. He had very sensibly taken it above, to the edge of the road where it could be seen by anyone looking for it in a car.
As soon as Brian was there, the young man disappeared before being thanked, saying he thought the lady had broken her legs as well as hitting her head badly, not before Brian noticed his tee shirt was soaked in red blood. Brian was able to drive the scooter home, as it wasn’t damaged at all.
Only to find poor Tony the decorator, still here having blue fits about me, as the police had phoned him here, saying, there had been an accident and could someone rescue the scooter as they were not responsible for it. Tony regretted sending me off to buy ten metres of freeze for the wall.
We had decided that I should go and get what I liked, as I had nothing else to do at the time and it was a lovely day for a scooter ride. I had found and bought exactly the right match to the paint, which he found in my basket.
Brian came, and found me still in the A.& E just being sent off for an X-ray. But he assured me before I went, that this as bad as it seemed then, was going to be a good thing as my leg had been bent for many years, which no one wanted to do anything about 23 years ago.
Brian left me there, the next thing that I remember is being told by someone, that I had broken my hip just below or above the operation I had in 1977. At nine o’clock I was being admitted into one of the Orthopaedic Wards. I was to soon find out that my hip and leg was just flopping around like a dead leg of lamb, I screamed each time anyone had to turn me over in the bed.
As it happened, I had been to see another Consultant Mr Wetheral, who might be able to make me more comfortable a few weeks before my accident. It was my G.P. who suggested I have another check up after twenty odd years, as he said, medical things have changed a lot over all these years.
Mr Wetheral agreed that something could be done to make me more comfortable, but he asked how I managed and we both agreed to leave it for a while. He said this would be a big operation that would take a long time and we left it at this.
I no doubt would have had to wait many years for a bed if I had thought any more about having it done, but I had crashed into Ward Two in a big way.
It was the next morning, I was in hospital, and could do nothing about this situation. Worst was to come, as twelve days went by, I just laid there, not knowing what was happening or why nothing was being done.
Brian had found out more than I could, they were observing me closely and had sent off for a new hip joint to be made for me. Mr Wetheral the consultant I had seen a few weeks earlier was away on holiday, I thought we were waiting for him to return but I could not find out when this would be.
I began to feel very despondent with so much pain and the drugs including morphine injections were building up. After the twelve days I began to shout and query, as to what we were waiting for!
The next thing I knew was a very tall man was looking down at me, saying he was another consultant, Mr Floyd and would be ‘sorting me out’ the next day, Thursday 17th August. I do not remember much more after this until Friday morning, when I found myself on another special bed with my leg in traction with a five pound weight on the end of a piece of rope pulling my leg straight, a bit wearying at times but worth it in the end after just three weeks.
Mr Floyd came to me bedside early the next morning. To see how I was feeling, I told him that I was relieved and a more comfortable that I was now in traction and the operation over! Without the plaster-caste, which I had always dreaded if ever I were to have it operated on again.
My leg was encased in a soft piece of special pink material with a bandage to keep it in place with a loose bit under my foot where the rope attached to the weight, rather uncomfortable at first but I soon got used to it being there, but unlike the dreaded plaster-of-Paris body caste as before.
I knew then, I was to stay like this for several weeks. I was used to the ward routine by now and the all the nurses were so kind and friendly towards me throughout this gruelling time. As was all the other staff working on the ward, from the doctors to the cleaners, I have at least twenty new friends.
As they all helped me to cope to still be as independent as I could, which was greatly restricted to my usual self not able to feed myself, only their special feeding cups to manage my drinks which consisted of cold, weak tea or hot chocolate. The food was horrible from beginning to end.
Until now, I thought that I could eat anything, but nothing tasted at all of what I thought I was having and just could not find an appetite, I must have lost weight. Everything was back to normal as soon as I got home when I began enjoyed my food again.
Mr Floyd became my greatest fan, and looked forward to his visits to my bedside most mornings. The nurses laughed when I ‘hit him on his bum!’ as he would call me Mrs Chappell. He told me that he had removed everything that was in my hip and replaced it all with a proper ball and socket and has given me a new hip and much straighter leg than I have lived with all these years.
My mother would be so pleased that this has happened at last; it was always her dream. Mr Floyd asked me several times when I had this awful mess of an operation done at Poole. I had always known that it was wrong, as mother and I was told by three surgeons after it was done in 1977 and it took over three years to recovery from it.
They all described to operation as a ‘bloody mess’ and I was told that nothing could ever be done to put it right at I would have to live with it as long as I lived. One Surgeon said that it could not even be amputated at one time. February 1977 was over twenty-three years ago, said Mr Floyd. However I have lived with it, he did not know! He seemed really shocked and most upset about it, and I now have the feeling he will stand by me forever.
I travelled around the ward in my bed to different places, but at 71 I felt trapped with a lot of ‘old people! They didn’t want the television on, and some were deaf. And me being in bed, I could not talk to them or they could not understand me.
Then I was fortunate to be put into a side-room on my own for nine days while it was not needed for infections or very ill patients; after I had asked nicely! This helped my recovery a lot as I am used to being on my own and could have the T.V on quietly which helped the time on.
But as I say the nurses kept me going, but there were never more than four on duty to look after 24 beds with emergencies arriving all the time. My heart goes out to every one of them; they work like Trojans for eight hours at a time. They all certainly deserve more money and recognition for their caring work, nothing is too much trouble to help me if they could.
But had little time to give to anyone patient. The male nurses were just as good to me as the females. We all had a good laugh most of the time; they were caring for me, day and night. I was finally, released from traction by the big man, (or nurses) exactly three weeks after my operation, it was a relief and I could begin moving and exercising again and my leg is straighter than it has been for all those years.
The only plaster was a wide piece of elastoplast about a foot long to cover the old scar, which when it was removed looked like a scratch! I ask him how he had done it. Mr Floyd said, “he had made a little hole, put two fingers in and pulled the rubbish out” I’m still wondering how the big hip joint was put in place, I understand a form of cement is used.
That was why I was on a traction bed to keep my hip still and straight. The only warning I got, was, that I could ‘dislocate it’ at anytime, then I was assured that, if I did that it would be the first 48 hours of being released from traction. It is now almost six months later as I write, and it still doesn’t look like ‘my leg’.
I have no pain at all and the aching has stopped now. So it was a good accident and well-worth going through all this. The bang on my head I forgot about until a week later, I found dried blood and a male nurse had fun washing it. I showed bruises for some time afterwards but did not feel them.
As soon as I was helped out my bed the day after I was released. It was agreed that Brian would drive my indoor electric chair from here for me to use the next few days in the ward, which was lovely as I was living in the real world again, visiting other patients and getting in the way of the nurses as there was no where else to go, except to go outside for some beautiful fresh clean air once again.
I was on my way up and out. I just sat there in the sun, thinking how fortunate I was and how well I been cared for, with many friends coming to visit me, encouraging me, all doing what they could to help me get through this. All sure, this was the best thing that had happened to me and I would be soon back in my own home leading my own life again.
But I was in no hurry at all and settled down to see what would happen next. I did hear someone talk about going to a Convalescent Home for awhile, but did I dream that as in the end I came straight home and my own bed.
Before returning to my newly decorated bungalow where my new carpet had been put down while I was out of the way. The O.T. came home with me for an hour to see if I could manage etc. I knew I had all that I needed and no other adaptations needed.
She was very, very impressed at the arrangements I have here to live as independent as possible. She let me lie on my own comfy bed, I said, I’m staying here! But I had to go back to the ward for another week. before I came home alone by special wheelchair taxi and was alone once again.
Until then, nothing very exciting had happened all summer until that Saturday August 5th, I could not seem to arrange a holiday or anything so seven weeks in hospital certainly made an unplanned change. But it was all for the best, and after the initial shock everyone as well as myself are pleased it happened as it did. I certainly feel so much better and grateful it all went so well in the end, and I feel a new-women.
I finally came home on September 21st to carry on as before. (I had celebrated my eleventh anniversary of living-on-my-own on September 16th in hospital.) A party and house warming now the decorations are completed will come later. I have been home for over six months now, managing very well. My Home Carers call every morning,
At first, the Home Carers were popping in during the evenings for a while, as had been arranged.. Supposedly to help me to bed; but as I felt tired I was often in bed when they arrived, as I still wanted to do this as soon as I could. It was a bit of a struggle then, but a lot easier now, I was getting in and out of bed during the night anyhow.
So I didn’t see the point of anyone coming in at 7.30 pm. It is so nice to be back in my own bed again. The Olympics were in full swing so I enjoyed watching all that is happening there, as I watch most television in bed anyway.
I only wish Mum had been here to see her wish come true, but I felt that she was there and arranged it all to happen as it did. Mum seemed to be very close through all this. It was two years ago October 17th that she died. Derek and Elizabeth waited until I had, had my operation before they came to see me. They have been abroad all of October, they should be back now and are coming up soon; but this bad weather we are having, I would rather the wait awhile.
The other highlight of 2000 was, on July 5th my Trefoil friend Ginny took me to Althrope House to visit Diana’s resting place, it was a memorial occasion for me, as we had planned this for a long time. The sun did not shine but it was a quite gentle afternoon.
After a picnic in the car, we went up the drive to the house, with sheep browsing and new trees had been planted (one tree for every year of Diana’s live. Firstly, we walked around the lake, to the memorial archway that has been turned into a shrine her brother designed, where flowers can be laid as you visit, I left one of my poems here.
This overlooks the exact spot where Diana is buried, where she used to play and read in peace when she was a child. Something I will never forget. Just as Ginny, was pushing me on around the lake and estate. We met three young girls with bare feet, wearing after-school cloths, with a little dog. At first, we were taken aback to see them there like this.
Then we realised they were her brother Charles, children just come home from school. We visited the house and stable, which has been converted into a museum by her brother, from early childhood, school days to her wedding day, up to her tragic death.
We had bought the book written by Lord Spencer about the house and Diana. We were told he had been around signing books in the morning, so I did not expect to see him still there in the afternoon. But just before we had a cup of tea, we popped into the shop, and there he was!
Excitedly we joined the queue; abd when he saw me, Charles dropped everything and was by my wheelchair, signing my copy and chatting to me while Ginny took a very nice photograph of him for me. Which Ginny later, brought into the hospital for me.
I came home feeling very happy, glad that I had been to Althrope. It will be opened every year for two months, from July 1st Diana’s birthday until August 31st the day she tragically died. Since then I have read a very interesting book by Ann Edwards about Diana’s tragic and unhappy life as a member of the royal family, that should never have happened I am sure.
Derek and Elizabeth came up to see me in hospital after the operation, they are coming up again soon, having just returned from America last week, before going to Italy this week for five days, they were due home yesterday. He will be 65 at Christmas so I don’t blame them for getting around while they are able.
I have been out on my scooter since, as like a horse you should mount as soon as you fall off of it. I am feeling so much better in every way, a new women with a new leg, and am back doing all my usual things but have been feeling tired and going to bed early.
I have even traced the young people who picked me up and looked after the scooter since coming home. They were travelling across the bridge above me and saw me tip. They have been to see me here and brought me flowers, a nice ending to the story.
So it was an accident with a very happy ending, all I need to do is to be careful how I move my hip as no way do I want it to happen again in any way.
I won’t be sorry to see the end of this Millennium year now that Christmas is almost here already; the news is far from good and will not be any brighter next year either.
I intend staying just where I am for Christmas with my own comforts and bed as I was parted from it for too long. The nurses have invited me back to the Ward on Christmas Day, that will depend on the weather, I won’t know any of the patients in then, and the nurses will be kept far too busy I expect, so I will be better and warmer here.
The hospital is only around the corner from here, I can get there on my scooter is 20 minutes, I have been back twice to see them and wrote them a letter of thanks.
December 31st 2000
The end of the year and the end of this chapter. Start again tomorrow January 2001 with a new leg, new carer as Marion and I have settled down so well since we met on November 3rd and she started cleaning, cooking and washing for me.
At the moment Annie my Home Carer is still calling every morning to get me going, but her husband was made redundant on Christmas Eve and I have a feeling that there will be changes made at any moment.
Brian is still calling me as often as possible and helping me with odd jobs. Pam from Crossroads to take me shopping on Tuesday’s every week, I hope to begin swimming again in the Spring, have not been since my accident but am sure this will bring back more strength in my whole body possible with Jenny also from Crossroads taking me on Monday afternoons.
Steve my Gardener/handyman is planning making a nice patio in front of my kitchen window in the spring. My brother was 65 yesterday we keep in close touch even if we don’t see each other very often.
As we enter the New Year the country is white with snow, fog and ice with weather forecast of more to come so for the moment I intend staying in my lovely warm bungalow with enough food to keep me going, and my faithful computer always here waiting to be switch on and I feel happy and contented. Wondering what the future has in store for all my friends and myself both near and far. I have been in touch with most of them over Christmas.
Since mum died over two years ago, I have had to learn how to cope and to live a more normal life, dealing with its ups and downs. Looking back I would say she sheltered me and cared to much until nearly the end of her life which she gave up to me for almost 70 years of her 91.
With hindsight, I wish that I had been able to break away years before as the younger disabled people do today which just wasn’t allowed to happen when I was younger. The break when it did come was much more difficult for mother than me. I was happy with my carers who soon became my friends, which she just could not seem to accept or cope with.
She really disliked the sight of their uniforms let alone the women. She was never going to have them in her home! The last few days and nights she was never left alone. We had a night nurse while waiting for a bed at the Hospice where she spent her last four and a half days quite happy and contended.
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