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December 3rd 1997: Today was a bright sunny day, nothing unusual about it, just another day while I waited for my birthday and a chance to see my parents again. Geoff dropped around and suggested we went to the Cataract Gorge for a day of swimming. I left my grumpy fiance in bed and headed off for some fun.

As we decided where to swim, the sun grew warmer and more intense. So it was decided that a quick trip over some rocks was the best place. As the trip progressed I lost my footing and fell hard, I screamed out in agony, unable to move my left leg and barely able to move my now swollen feet. ‘My knee, I can’t feel it, my feet are so sore’ I thought to myself, ‘what have I done, it hurts like hell’. I cried and called to Geoff for help.

Geoff called for help and I tried to get comfortable. As I panicked he tried to keep me calm and safe, the sun glared down on my soft white skin, burning me in minutes. I was defenseless against the sun and unable to get under any shade, I ended up quite burnt. Geoff tried desperately to cover me by holding a towel above me, but it was too late. Rescuers soon arrived and it was decided that I was to be taken out by boat and into an awaiting ambulance. There were a few problems; the only pain relief they had I was allergic to and they had no air splint, they couldn’t find my pulse as I was in shock and this worried them. Eventually, after a lot of careful manoeuvring I was gently moved out onto the boat and shortly into the awaiting ambulance.

When I arrived at hospital, I found it to be an unusually quiet day. Soon after my arrival some very painful and delicate x-rays were taken. They were shown to me and an operation was suggested. "Operation!" I muttered, "great, my mum and dad will be pleased". I was taken up to a ward and settled in for the night. I warned them that morphine makes me sick, it was written down and I tried to sleep. My body was contracting from the pain every half an hour, but this grew shorter and shorter as time wore on.

X-ray of left knee from back, showing 5 fractures in tibial plateau.

Front view of knee showing 5 fractures in tibial plateau.

My right foot, a fracture in the 5th Metatarsal.

My left foot, the head had snapped off the 5th Metatarsal.

December 4th 1997: Before my operation they explained what they were going to do to me. The first thing they needed to do was to make a small incision in the knee and to access the damage that had been done. For this they used a micro telescope, before opening me up. They then cut open my leg and ground down past my tibial plateau getting rid of all the fractures except the largest one.

A piece of my left hip was then cut out and used to replace the plateau. A stainless steel plate was used to cap the knee joint and screws were added to support the plate and to tighten up the gap caused by the main fracture.

My right cartilage in my left knee was ruptured and it had to be repaired, but I didn’t find this out until after the operation. Although my feet were broken, they were left to heal naturally. Because the surgery took four hours, they believed that if I had been under for much longer it would have been dangerous.

I don’t remember many details after the operation, until I woke up wanting to be sick. I looked around and tried to find something to throw up in. ‘Shit’ I thought, ‘no bucket! I need to be sick’. I looked around panicking; I needed something to throw up in. Unable to move off the bed or roll over, I couldn’t see any garbage bins close by to be sick in. The rest of the ward hammered on their bells but it was too late, I threw up everywhere, covering part of the ward and myself in vomit.

December 6th 1997: A few days later my splint was removed. I looked down in horror; my leg was so mangled. I counted 26 staples in my main scar and two in a smaller wound. Dried blood lined the scars, and I had massive swelling all over my leg and both my feet. The swelling on my feet worried everyone, as it was not decreasing, it was getting worse. My toes were tingling and I was losing feeling in my feet rapidly.

December 8th 1997: My friends Helena and Peter visited and gave me some lovely presents for a miserable birthday. But the best present of all was something that would save my feet and my toes from being cut off. A massage, the most gentle and relaxing one I have ever received, it bought out my bruising and released and moved some of the swelling from my feet.

My leg and how it looked after the operation. I had 26 staples in main scar and 2 in the side scar.

Nights were the worst time, I felt so alone, and no one was there to help or comfort me. Of a day my fiance visited me but all he did was whine and sulk, eventually I would get sick of him and send him home. Friends visited on the occasions; most days Geoff dropped by to say ‘hello’. The nights were very quiet and when you are in a lot of pain they can be very long and lonely.

I was still on morphine and it was made me sick, I couldn’t eat or drink and this was worried the nurses. I told them it was the pain killers and could they give me something else but they refused, saying it was still the General Anaesthesia, even though it was days later.

9th December 1997: My parents arrived today with some friends, I have missed them so much. It was lovely for them to be there on my birthday. Mum gave me a massage for my feet which helped so much. It was good to have their company on an otherwise terrible day.

11th December 1997: Hooray, after several arguments with the night staff they put me on Digesic. The vomiting stopped within hours and I slowly started to eat and drink again.

12th December 1997: My staples were finally removed; the first nurse had a lot of trouble with them as it hurt a lot to remove them. Before she could get back to me she left as her shift was over. Half the staples were still in my leg so another nurse was sent along to finish them off. I didn’t mind the first nurse, she was kind and tried to be gentle, but this one was as rough as guts. I screamed and swore as she twisted and roughly turned the staples as she removed them from my leg.

13th December 1997: Physio started today and it is very painful, but at least I was allowed out of bed now, but my ability to move was very limited. I was allowed to hop on one leg, but I was not allowed to put any pressure on my left leg for 12 weeks! My feet ached and the swelling was still very bad, but at least I was allowed out of bed and I could move around with the assistance of a very large frame on wheels. Now that I had started to stand and move around the swelling started to go down.

15th December 1997: Once I started moving around on crutches life started to get a little easier, until I encountered stairs. I was terrified of them. After being told for weeks on end "Don’t put your foot down! You will end up back in surgery." I didn’t know what to do, or how to approach them. ‘How in the hell do I get my injured leg far enough off the ground?’ My hip still hurt from where they took my bone graft out so lifting my left off the ground seems impossible to me.

16th December 1997: I almost fell a few times today as I tried to manage stairs. It was decided to move me down to the rehabilitation ward today, as I was no longer considered an acute care patient. All I needed to do now is to learn how to move around on my crutches with confidence and then I could go home. Intense physiotherapy twice a day for an hour at a time was suggested to help me get used of ramps. This was decided as there was a large sloping ramp and a little stair at the back of my house and this looked like the easiest way for me to get in and out of it.

22nd December 1997: The minute I got out of hospital my fiancé dragged me up to Burnie for Christmas his mother got me a wheel chair so I could go Christmas shopping with him. Small children kept bumping into me at his mum’s house and the dog rammed into my leg on several occasions throughout my time there. They demanded that I go out side when I could barely use the crutches and toys littered the floor so I could have easily tripped at any moment while being there. I was in hell.

24th December 1997: ‘My goodness how can people be that rude!’ I went shopping today for Christmas presents with Adrian. He pushed me around and whined to me about pushing me, but refused to let me drive the chair myself. It was the most frightening thing I have ever been through. People rammed me with trolleys, they swore at me for getting in their way and worst of all, a young child stomped hard on my broken foot, laughed and ran off. His mother saw it all and did nothing; she just let him go. Here I was in a huge amount of pain and she didn’t even punish him. By the time I got home to Adrian mother’s place I was in pure agony. I wish I were at home so I could just be alone.

28th December 1997: I finally arrived home today this pleased my fiancé, as he didn’t have to come into hospital to visit me any more. At least I can move around with more freedom and not have to worry so. Oh the joys of inconsiderate flatmates, one of them hogged the only one (of two bathrooms I could get into). I had to bash on the door with one of my crutches, while using the other one to help support me. My whole body ached as I stood carefully on one foot and bashed the door.

I had my first fracture clinic appointment today. I was quite frightened because when I went to the fracture clinic in Hobart, for a different injury they were rude and hurt me quite badly. I caught a taxi in with Adrian and he whined all the way about having to get a taxi. ‘How did he expect me to catch a bus when I could hardly get up one little stair just boggled me? Busses had huge stairs; I would never make it’. The appointment itself was good; they were all very kind and gentle, so that helped a lot.

30th December 1997: I cried for a long time today, my so called fiance told me quite bluntly that he hated getting anything for me, no matter if it was important or not. I was stuck, with no one to help me, I was miserable. I hated relying on people but if someone were in the same situation as me I would have gladly helped.

Showers were the next hurdle I have to deal with alone. I needed to use a bath board, to do this I had to back up next to the side of the bath, reach down and hold the side as I slid onto the board. Then I had to gently ease my leg over the side of the bath and rest it carefully in a comfortable position. I then used a hand held shower to wash myself. Oh how I longed to stand up instead of having to sit all the time. Nights were very hot and I kept getting the urge to walk to the bathroom and have a long cold shower.

5th January 1998: Days went by without food or water, it was now the middle of summer and I was hot and exhausted. After a lot of effort I finally managed to get out to the kitchen and get myself something to eat and drink. I couldn’t stand my fiance; he didn’t help me at all. I almost fell many times from trying to have a shower and getting myself food; he refused to help most of the time unless I gave him something he wanted. I always refused.

10th January 1998: Visitors popped around occasionally, at least that gave me someone to talk to, I was just as lonely at home as I was in hospital, there was not much point in coming home. My fiance spent every night on the computer and slept all day, I only had visitors to talk to or if no one is around I played on the computer.

5th February 1998: My first physio appointment out of hospital was today. The physiotherapist was a bubbly blonde lady called Kate who made me laugh, she was very good and tried to be as gentle as possible, but it was still very painful. She tried to get the swelling in my feet down as quickly as possible and encouraged me to be more confident of myself.

15th February 1998: ‘School starts soon, I will be glad to see other people again and the chances of me walking assisted with crutches are good and could be very soon.’ The surgeon was impressed with my progress today. I went back for another appointment at the fracture clinic, with out Adrian. The surgeon said I was progressing quickly and I could be walking with crutches very soon.

25th February 1998: I started walking on my left foot today, I was only allowed to have a little bit of pressure on my left leg and I still had to use the crutches. My progress started to move more rapidly. I could be walking normally as early as the middle of May. My feet were still quite big, I measured them today and I was quite surprised to find I had trouble getting into my Dad’s size 12 shoes! ‘I hope the swelling goes down soon’. My physiotherapist said that once I start to walk properly the swelling should go down.

1st March 1998: Weeks have now passed and I have started to re-learn how to use my leg again, stairs became a new and interesting challenge. I couldn’t wait to get rid of my damn crutches ‘I hope the surgeon will give me permission to get rid of them soon’. My scar has started to get less obvious and my shoe size was getting smaller. I was now getting more confidence in walking and in myself. I went to my parents’ house in Hobart for my Dad’s birthday, they were so happy to see me. Although the trip was very painful, as there is not much legroom on the Red Line coaches, it was worth it. I had missed my family so much.

15th May 1998: It was now mid May and I could finally walk without assistance and the surgeon gave permission to walk without crutches. I felt so happy, as if I had been given a new freedom. It was great to walk anywhere without having to worry about falling over or putting my foot down when I shouldn’t.

July 1998: I have started to walk again quite well, although I have my days where my bones ache from the cold and I can’t bend my knee properly when going down stairs. But, as the radiologist said, "One person dies up there ever 2-3 years, so I was lucky". I was also fortunate not to incur spinal damage so that was good too. Now away from those who did not care for me, I have started to regain lost movement. Every day things are looking great and I improve more and more. But I think that this year, a quiet summer is what I need.

This is how I look now, I still do not have all the feeling back on the left side of my scar but, the doctors are hopeful I will regain full feeling. Cold days are fun as they make me ache. But as I was told, one person dies up there, where I fell every 2-3 years, so I can count myself as lucky.

Feel free to me and tell me what you think.

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