Before the car crash I was extremely motivated and focused. My future was pretty much mapped out as a high achiever in the world of sport. I was 21, about to enter my second year studying for a degree in physical education and English at university.
But nothing ever prepares you for the unexpected in life. While touring France in a car in August 1994 the driver dozed off at the wheel at 70mph. I was asleep when we hit a tree head on. Wearing a safety belt undoubtedly saved my life, but my head took the full brunt of the force. Though my lower body ended up in the engine block, my forehead smashed into the dashboard, breaking it in half. My skull shattered into 50 parts. I don't remember anything of the crash, though I was lucid immediately after impact.
At first, neurosurgeons at Marseilles hospital signed me off as another road statistic - the front lobe of my brain was virtually irreparable and in intensive care I was too weak for surgery. But 72 hours later, doctors decided I was stable enough for surgeons to piece back together the bits of skull bone like a jigsaw puzzle. For the next five weeks, I suffered from post traumatic amnesia - even today, the actual crash is a blank.
Then a month later at Brooks Hospital, south London, I underwent a second critical operation. Doctors had to remove the pieces of skull to make way for continuing brain swelling and fix a membrane tear because fluid began leaking through my nose. Those 11 weeks in hospital were extremely hazy, as were the subsequent months convalescing at home.
There was no outside provision for help, so my parents were left to care for me around the clock. I was sleeping 18 hours a day and felt like a zombie. I'd lost just under three stone in weight and resembled a prisoner of war. I was extremely irritable and aggressive.
With up to one million people in the UK a year attending hospital with a head injury, there is a common misconception that head injury victims suffer brain damage and lose IQ points. Yet IQ often remains unaffected and in fact the damage is often largely psychological. I suffered from frighteningly quick and frequent mood swings. I'd turn vile and vitriolic in an instant - swearing, shouting, criticising, almost in tears because I couldn't cope with the intensity of so many raw emotions.
Yet I had always been so patient, calm and level-headed. Now I felt completely at the mercy of my emotions. It was so extreme: I'd feel hysterically happy or bitterly upset. I'd laugh or cry in an instant. I was behaving totally out of character. Bored and frustrated, I craved outside stimulation and in September 1985 I decided to go back to college convinced I could pick up from pre-crash days - convinced nothing had changed.
But I was psychologically a different person, with no awareness of my own situation, the new limitations and potential difficulties. I didn't even know I had a short-term memory problem until a few weeks into my course when it became obvious I couldn't cope. The crash had somehow damaged my body clock, so I was still going to bed at 3am and not waking until midday. I missed all the morning lectures and felt very de-motivated, unwilling to catch up. It was a downward spiral. I couldn't concentrate or contribute during the six hourly daily lectures and, because of the head injuries, was excluded from playing many sports - football, rugby, squash, diving, underwater swimming, gymnastics.
For the first time in my academic life I was underachieving so badly I was forced to give up the course by spring. I hadn't experienced failing before and, out of character, began spending money I didn't have impulsively and recklessly. I had no job, no social group, no career, and no prospects. It was obvious I needed rehabilitation, yet there was nothing available locally on the NHS. Instead, in August 1986, I started a 13-month private residence rehab programme, which cost £40,000, paid for by insurance damages. I was lucky. A psychologist had assessed and negotiated the compensation. Failing that, there was no other available or nearby option to help aid my recovery.
By now I was totally unmotivated, lacked confidence and any self-discipline. The treatment worked on that bit by bit - forcing me to get up early, wash and brush my teeth or play computer games when the programme is set to fail, so the player has to constantly deal and learn with their limitations. Rehab for head injuries is critical sooner rather than later. Afterwards, I immediately worked as an assistant newsagent rising at 4.30am six days a week for five months, then as a record shop sales assistant, interacting with new confidence with customers. Next I was a youth worker helping all the local youth organisations.
Meanwhile, my father won his tireless campaign to the local health council and social services to recognise head injuries as a separate "hidden" disability and set up a local branch of Headway in 1992. I've learnt to write lists obsessively and prioritise - the only way I can remember everything. Psychologically, my behaviour is less acute, though irritability, low tolerance and surface emotions are still evident.
For personal guidance, I worked out a structure for my life and lowered my expectations, then gradually came to terms with my limitations by identifying them and working within them. Now I lead a full, rewarding and productive life because I have set different goals to achieve. Up to 15 times a day, I am reminded of my brain injury - albeit for a split second. You can never escape or forget it. Yet with the uninitiated in society, the lack of awareness surrounding head injuries tends to invite a negative attitude through ignorance or insensitivity. Though I am registered disabled, I want to be treated like anybody else.
Contacts
Headway - the brain injury association - 4 King Edward Court, King Edward Street, Nottingham NG1 1EW. Tel: 0115-924 0800 Fax: 0115-958 4446 Email: enquiries@headway.org.uk
On the web
In print
For advice booklets on brain injuries contact Headway (above).
Head Injury, a Practical Guide by Trevor Powell, published by Winslow, £12.95
Head Injury, the Facts, Gronwall & Wrightson, published by Oxford University Press, £8.99.
