The Event

Noooo, not Channel 4's new 'thriller', which I've successfully avoided so far, due to a) forgetting to watch the first ep, b) not having time to catch-up with the first ep and c), being so disappointed with Flash Forward's 'finale' that I just didn't wanna put myself through such trauma again.  So, by The Event, I mean something far more personal; something that I've already alluded to a couple times in this blog; and something that, hopefully, will give you an even greater insight into the scary realms of ME.


On 11 October 2004, at approximately 10:10am, I was thrown out of my wheelchair onto the floor of a taxi, breaking both arms and legs. 


Up until this point, I was a pretty average student, I stayed in education until I was 18, got my A-levels, and intended to go to university.  I had applied to two, to study either Journalism or Film; with the latter being my preferred choice.  However, I guess I didn't work as hard as I should have done at college, and didn't take it seriously enough - does anyone at that age? - so ended up not achieving good enough grades to get onto the Film degree.  Therefore, I had to settle for my second choice of Journalism, which was further away from my home, and it was arranged that I would travel by County Council-provided taxi, in order to give me some more independence (ha ha).  Normally, I would travel in my mother's car, sitting in a child's car seat, and then be transferred by her into my wheelchair at the other end , but because I was doing this journey on my own, transferring would not have been possible, so I had to actually make the journey in my wheelchair.


Survived the first trip to and from Uni on October 4th relatively unscathed though, looking back, I didn't feel 100% safe even then, but thought this was just me being a 'fraidy cat' (dog?), and was determined to carry on; hoping I'd just get used to it.  This bravado was dramatically short-lived, and one week later, about 20 minutes away from my first lecture The Event, which still affects my life even now, occurred.


I still don't know what happened exactly, all I know for sure is that the driver braked suddenly, and I was thrown forward, landing on the taxi floor.  The first thing I remember (vividly) is hearing someone screaming, and then realising it was me.  I never believed that phenomenon, often clichéd in books and films, was possible; not being aware of a sound that your own body is making.  But trust me, it's possible.  It's kinda like your mind is frozen in time for a split-second, while the rest of you, and the rest of the world, goes on.


I don't think I ever lost consciousness, though I really wish I had as, when I 'came to', I was aware of the worst pain imaginable.  They say that, for a woman, childbirth is the worst pain you can feel, but I'd beg to differ.  Have never been in labour, but would've quite happily given vaginal birth to octuplets (if that was humanly possible), than be in the agony I was in then.  Even thinking about it now, 6 years later, I stil feel realy sick and tense - like when you're in the same room as a bunch of balloons and you KNOW one of them's gonna burst - only 10 billion times worse, so I do try not to think about it too much; it's hard though.  I also try not to get too close to balloons...


I wouldn't wish the above experience on my worst enemy, not even Jude Law, though sometimes I could just slap him...  Anyway, I digress.  Was taken to hospital by air ambulance - now get really freaked out by low-flying helicopters; seriously, I'm a frigging nutter - and promptly (well, several hours later) got sent home.  There wasn't a lot that could be done for me, as putting me into plaster would only do more damage, due to the weight.  So to bed I went, which is where I remained for pretty much the rest of the year.  During my recovery I continued studying, using voice recognition software to dictate my coursework, and somehow managed to get a 2:1 for my first year.  But, while I was pretty much fully recovered (physically at least) by January 2005, my confidence was completely trashed, and I gave up the course.


For a good few months I was at a complete loss as to what to do with my life; had no future plans; no aspirations and, most significantly, no confidence.  But then I met a man called The Doctor...


As I've said before, Doctor Who gave me something to look forward too, and acted as a form of escapism; anything, quite frankly, would have been an improvement on my current situation, but a life in the TARDIS, travelling endlessly through time and space with a handsome stranger?  Errr, yes please.  That's why I can so emphasise with Rose Tyler, and Billie Piper (albeit a younger model); me and Rose were the same age, both stuck in a rut, bored with life, no real future etc etc.  We trusted the Doctor, and fell in love with him, in our own way, and I can't help feeling that having Doctor Who to look forward to every week kept me going.  Billie, on the other hand, inspired me in a totally different to Rose, as she's also come pretty darn close to pegging it; in her case as a result of a serious eating disorder - which I'm very unlikely to suffer from; too darn greedy, too many little pigs and children in red coats etc.


Seriously though, I'd grown up listening to Billie-Because-We-Want-To-Piper's music (still do fyi, shut up you), and having a shared experience (sort of) with somebody, particularly someone so close in age, really helped me.  Ok maybe I sound like BP's official stalker, but the fact that she so brilliantly put her life back together inspired me to do the same, and I did.


In October 2005, one year after the Universe collapsed around me, I got a place at my local college, where I stayed for two years, gradually re-building my confidence (and my academic skills), before finally starting the Film degree that I'd failed to get onto all those years ago.  I graduated with a 2:1 this July just gone - perhaps one of the best days of my life - and the rest, as they say, is history.  Kinda...


October 11, 2004 was definately the worst day of my life, but it became the best thing that ever happend to me.  Yes, I'm a more nervous passenger than I was before - though, I have improved; no more panic attacks - bonus.  Yes, I am a bit freaked out by helicopters, and no, sometimes I'm not as confident in myself as I could be.  But, as a result of th accident I've made some amazing friends, have a degree in Film at one of the top Unis, and am pursuing a Masters.  I can also now, quite happily, travel in a car in my wheelchair (not The Chair, that got sent to the knacker's yard).  Ok so the car is generally driven by my mother, but I have also pulled myself together enough now to allow my enabler, and very good friend VW, to take me out and about.  Though, frankly, if I'd made her sit at home with me any longer, I think she woulda dragged me out by my tail anyway.  That's why I love her!


Everything happens for a reason.  Any regets?  Sing it Piaf.


BW xxx