... I was on holiday, in France. I went out on my hired bike. Thankfully, I was wearing a bicycle-helmet.
A nurse from the local hospital was driving along, and saw me lying by the side of the road. She says I had stopped breathing, but I responded quickly to resuscitation. She called an ambulance (which was actually a helicopter). My husband rang my mobile, and it was answered by a French paramedic (who didn't speak English).
I spent quite a while in my coma. Rob's parents, who had been holidaying with us, took the girls back to England (although BA made them pay first class, because there were no economy seats left, even though they assured them that the two seats next to these little children would be empty). After a while, I was flown back to England in a LearJet. Thank you, Churchill Insurance! I always use them for our travel insurance, now.
I was taken to intensive care at St Peters Hospital, in Chertsey. When I was ready to leave, they sent me to the Bradley Rehabilitation Unit, in Woking. I was there for a few months before I remember anything. In fact, the first thing I remember clearly is coming home overnight at Christmas, although by then I had already been home with an occupational therapist, for several short visits. "A house? We don't live here. We live in a flat in Surbiton. Oh, Lizzie, my lovely toddler! Ooh, this is a lovely baby. Where is her mum? Why do you keep bringing her to hospital? What do you mean, I'm her mum, and you told me that yesterday, and the day before?"
The Bradley Unit eased me back into normal life. Now, I always take the 20th July off work, and go in and visit them. Last year, someone said "Oh, next year will be a Saturday, you can bring you children in. We would love to see how big they are, now!"
I think the staff enjoy seeing a former patient. I do this for me, of course, but I also think they enjoy it. I hope so!
Then, tonight, I feel I have to have some bubbly, to celebrate having survived that accident. I was unlucky that it happened, but I am very lucky that I recovered so well from it. OK, I am 'blind' (although I'd say 'partially sighted', but the doctors say 'blind', and hey, I pay less tax, less TV license, I get DLA...), my speech is still blurry (although I think I hear it worse than everyone else. Hey, my job is as a university lecturer, and the students don't complain!), and my balance and co-ordination are bad (you would be horrified to see my handwriting!), but hey again, I am improving. Slowly, yes, but I think I still see improvements, 8 years down the line. maybe that's just wishful thinking, but, hey.