Firstly, let me tell you abit about me: I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome (which is a mild form of Autism) when I was 10 years old. AS is basically a learning & social disorder, which (in a nut shell) makes me feel like an outsider and I'm slow at learning some things. I spend most of my time just messing around on the internet and playing videogames, which is all funded by the UK Government. Yep, they pay me to do nothing! I recieve incapacity benefits and disability living allowance (which is about £100 per week in total).
While not gaming and doing other geeky stuff, I enjoy experimenting with various drugs and research chemicals.
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Anyway, about a year ago, I broke my leg by jumping down a flight of stairs. For some reason it didn't hurt, and I was adamant that I was fine (I wanted to just walk that shit of) but some random guys thought it would be best to call an ambulance.
After about 10 minutes, the ambulance turned up and I was surrounded by guys dressed in green who were asking me questions. My leg still wasn't hurting, so I was kinda confused at what the big deal was. Then one of the green guys brought a stretcher over and they wanted me to roll onto it... "no problem" I said was I began to roll.
Then it hit. The paintrain of ultimate PAAIIINNN struck. This is where my memory of the events gets really fuzzy for some reason. I vague remember them picking me up on the stretcher and sliding me into the ambulance, then some woman leaning over and asking me more questions. I remember someone saying "This is going to sting a little" and then bliss Pure bliss. I assume they injected me with something, and I remember nothing more after that point.
I remember absolutely nothing of the next 4-5 weeks, apart from some distant/vague memories which don't make much sense, so the rest of this tale is based on information from my family:
Strange things I remember from the coma:
Anyways, 4 weeks passed, and the first thing I remember when waking up was a priest talking to me. He was asking if I 'just want to chat'. I declined.
Then I was in another ward.
Then another ward on the top floor of the hospital. My parents were there and my mum was showing me pictures in a book and trying to get me to write my name. I couldn't write my name, and I was getting annoyed because I knew how to write but when I tried to write, my hand would get all wobley and it looked like something a 2 year old would write...
I couldn't write because (unbeknownst to me) I had almost died and had had suffered from serious brain damage due to the ARDS restricting oxygen to my brain. The doctors didn't know if it would be permanent, or if I would recover.
It's never good when medical professionals say "I don't know" 8)
I spent another 5 weeks in hospital doing psyiotherapy and getting visited by various people who 'wanted to meet me in person'. Apparently I was somewhat of a medical marvel due to me surviving a fat embolism. I had one nurse come to me and say "in the 20 years that I've worked here, I've never seen anyone have a fat embolism" and one doctors said that "most patients with fat embolism tend to die." which freaked me out a little...
Oh, and almost every night I would wake up convinced that certain things were happening. (For example; one night I woke up *convinced* that there was some kind of virus spreading throughout the ward and it was only a matter of time before the virus got into our ward.). Also, sometimes I would wake up in the night and think I was in a boat. Now that I talk about it, it sounds weird, or like I'm making it up or something... but I swear to god, it was so real to me at the time, I was 100% convinced that shit was happening. I was so convinced about it at times, that I would call a nurse in to warn them about things. One night, I was obsessed with the word "Almanac" (the magazine) and I called my parents using my bedtime phone and pleaded for them to bring over a recent copy of Almanac... it was 4am at the time...
At the time, the nurses just thought I was acting like a fool to get attention, but later I was told by a doctor that it was something called 'ICU Psychosis' (Delirium). It is not fun.
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That was one year ago.
Since then I have 99.9% recovered, and the only minor problem I have left is that my eyesight is kinda blurry (but I can deal with that) and memory problems (although that might be partly due to the phenazepam overdose where I lost a good 2 weeks of my life)
Man... my life is pretty dramatic sometimes :O
While not gaming and doing other geeky stuff, I enjoy experimenting with various drugs and research chemicals.
---
Anyway, about a year ago, I broke my leg by jumping down a flight of stairs. For some reason it didn't hurt, and I was adamant that I was fine (I wanted to just walk that shit of) but some random guys thought it would be best to call an ambulance.
After about 10 minutes, the ambulance turned up and I was surrounded by guys dressed in green who were asking me questions. My leg still wasn't hurting, so I was kinda confused at what the big deal was. Then one of the green guys brought a stretcher over and they wanted me to roll onto it... "no problem" I said was I began to roll.
Then it hit. The paintrain of ultimate PAAIIINNN struck. This is where my memory of the events gets really fuzzy for some reason. I vague remember them picking me up on the stretcher and sliding me into the ambulance, then some woman leaning over and asking me more questions. I remember someone saying "This is going to sting a little" and then bliss Pure bliss. I assume they injected me with something, and I remember nothing more after that point.
I remember absolutely nothing of the next 4-5 weeks, apart from some distant/vague memories which don't make much sense, so the rest of this tale is based on information from my family:
Apparently, I arrived in hospital and had an x-ray. My femur was broken. I needed surgery to repair it, and the plan was for the surgeons to insert a metal bar into my femur to help it repair itself. My surgery was booked for 9am the next day.
The next day when the surgeon came to 'prep' me for the operation, he noticed some strange things about mt condition, and ran some checks before the operation. According to the results, I had developed an incredibly rare complication called a "Fat Embolism" (which is basically when the bone marrow gets into your blood stream). It was lucky he noticed that, because the surgery would have killed me.
The operation was cancelled.
I was shipped off to ICU/Intensive Care, and hooked up to life support systems. The doctors ran additional checks, and found that the fat embolism had caused 'ARDS' (Acute Respitory Distress Syndrome, which means you can't breath properly). I was still having alot of trouble breathing and I would have died within days if something wasn't done, so the decision was made to put me into a drug induced coma. The coma would reduce the work my lungs have to do and keep me alive.
I spent 4 weeks in a coma.
The next day when the surgeon came to 'prep' me for the operation, he noticed some strange things about mt condition, and ran some checks before the operation. According to the results, I had developed an incredibly rare complication called a "Fat Embolism" (which is basically when the bone marrow gets into your blood stream). It was lucky he noticed that, because the surgery would have killed me.
The operation was cancelled.
I was shipped off to ICU/Intensive Care, and hooked up to life support systems. The doctors ran additional checks, and found that the fat embolism had caused 'ARDS' (Acute Respitory Distress Syndrome, which means you can't breath properly). I was still having alot of trouble breathing and I would have died within days if something wasn't done, so the decision was made to put me into a drug induced coma. The coma would reduce the work my lungs have to do and keep me alive.
I spent 4 weeks in a coma.
Strange things I remember from the coma:
- A 'dream world' in which I was the member of an American family who were drug dealers (or something) and, as a family, we would hook ourselves up to IVs and go to sleep as a 'family activity'. We also had a huge-ass truck that made a very distinct sound (sounded exactly like a dodge charger). I don't understand what any of that stuff means, but I've discussed it with my real family, and apparently there was a machine in ICU that made a similar noise.
- A blank yellow wall with a clock on it.
- A TV on wheels at the foot of my bed.
- A huge black area to the right of me. Like, if I turned my head to the right, it was just BLACK like a huge shadow or something.
Anyways, 4 weeks passed, and the first thing I remember when waking up was a priest talking to me. He was asking if I 'just want to chat'. I declined.
Then I was in another ward.
Then another ward on the top floor of the hospital. My parents were there and my mum was showing me pictures in a book and trying to get me to write my name. I couldn't write my name, and I was getting annoyed because I knew how to write but when I tried to write, my hand would get all wobley and it looked like something a 2 year old would write...
I couldn't write because (unbeknownst to me) I had almost died and had had suffered from serious brain damage due to the ARDS restricting oxygen to my brain. The doctors didn't know if it would be permanent, or if I would recover.
It's never good when medical professionals say "I don't know" 8)
I spent another 5 weeks in hospital doing psyiotherapy and getting visited by various people who 'wanted to meet me in person'. Apparently I was somewhat of a medical marvel due to me surviving a fat embolism. I had one nurse come to me and say "in the 20 years that I've worked here, I've never seen anyone have a fat embolism" and one doctors said that "most patients with fat embolism tend to die." which freaked me out a little...
Oh, and almost every night I would wake up convinced that certain things were happening. (For example; one night I woke up *convinced* that there was some kind of virus spreading throughout the ward and it was only a matter of time before the virus got into our ward.). Also, sometimes I would wake up in the night and think I was in a boat. Now that I talk about it, it sounds weird, or like I'm making it up or something... but I swear to god, it was so real to me at the time, I was 100% convinced that shit was happening. I was so convinced about it at times, that I would call a nurse in to warn them about things. One night, I was obsessed with the word "Almanac" (the magazine) and I called my parents using my bedtime phone and pleaded for them to bring over a recent copy of Almanac... it was 4am at the time...
At the time, the nurses just thought I was acting like a fool to get attention, but later I was told by a doctor that it was something called 'ICU Psychosis' (Delirium). It is not fun.
---
That was one year ago.
Since then I have 99.9% recovered, and the only minor problem I have left is that my eyesight is kinda blurry (but I can deal with that) and memory problems (although that might be partly due to the phenazepam overdose where I lost a good 2 weeks of my life)
Man... my life is pretty dramatic sometimes :O
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