Your VoiceTAC clients sharing their stories and information

Edition 14: October 2013

In this edition: The emotional road to recovery Ben Renee John

The emotional road to recovery

The emotional road to recovery

Recovering from a transport accident can be a traumatic and emotional time. Feelings of guilt, anger, depression, anxiety and fear are common in people affected by an accident – and this can be true for not only the person recovering from the accident, but also for the family members and friends who are providing support.

In this edition of Your Voice we meet three clients whose accidents changed their lives, and whose recoveries involved both a physical and emotional journey.

First we meet Ben, whose constant pain led him to consider taking his own life. But with the support of his wife Jenny and the team at his local hospital, Ben is now working through his depression and is studying to be a drug, alcohol and suicide counsellor.

We also meet Renee, whose long road to recovery was lined with multiple miscarriages, a painkiller dependence and the break-down of her marriage. Despite this, Renee is now the proud mother of two beautiful children, and manages her family, work and horse riding commitments with the aim of competing at the Rio Paralympics.

And finally we talk to John, who despite having many less-than-perfect days and weeks is looking forward to what comes next.

Although these feelings of guilt, anger, depression, anxiety and fear are perfectly natural after an accident, for some people it can be difficult to talk openly and seek help.

There are a range of supports available, both from the TAC and within the community, which may

assist you or a family member or friend.

One of the most important things to consider when seeking help is that you feel comfortable with your treater and are confident your treatment will work. Taking an active role in your recovery is also important – ask questions and clarify anything you don’t understand.

Getting back to a normal routine can also help. Returning to work, participating in an activity you enjoy, or catching up with family and friends – even if you don’t feel like it – can be an important part of your recovery. Many health professionals agree that the less you do, the worse you feel.

Most of all, it’s important to recognise that a transport accident is a traumatic event, and what you’re feeling is perfectly natural. Give yourself a break, you might not get back to your usual self straight away – and in fact, you might never return to being that person. But confronting these issues is the first step in that journey.

For more information about mental health resources visit the TAC’s website www.tac.vic.gov.au or www.mindhealthconnect.org.au

Beyond Blue

1300 224 636 www.beyondblue.org.au

Road Trauma Support Services

1300 367 797 www.rtssv.org.au

Ben

Ben

Twenty-five years ago, my wife Jenny ‘signed up’ to love and cherish me in sickness and health, but neither of us expected that she would spend half of our marriage as my full-time carer.

My story is a tale of not one, but two accidents that occurred within months of each other, changing the course of my life.

At the start of the millennium, Jenny and I were leading very busy lives – chasing after our four children (all aged under 10), starting a new catering business and helping run fundraising activities for local causes.

On 14 December 2000, I set off from Benalla to quote on a catering job. It was the middle of day and a kangaroo appeared on the road.I tried to veer away from the animal and found myself sailing off the embankment into a tree.

The kangaroo hopped away unscathed; I wasn’t in such good shape. I needed a hospital stay and time off to recover from my painful injuries.

Some three-and-a-half months later it was Easter time and I felt ready to go back to work in a restricted capacity. On Easter Saturday, Jenny and I got the family organised to leave for Mulwala to do a catering gig.

I had three of the kids (Robert, Sam and Megan) on board with me, while Jenny drove separately with our eldest daughter Catherine. The roads were busy because it was peak tourist time for the region.

I was crossing the two-lane Yarrawonga-Mulwala Bridge when a car travelling in the opposite direction tried to do an overtaking manoeuvre and caused a head-on collision.

My driver-side airbag went off with a bang and there was a strong gunpowder type smell. I was in a world of pain, but all I could think about was getting the kids out of the car in case it toppled off the bridge and into the water.

The kids were very distressed. Thankfully, a kind elderly lady quickly came to our aid and gathered the children at the side of the road.

For a long time afterwards, I kept having vivid nightmares about different scenarios where I was unable to defend my kids – it’s amazing what the subconscious holds onto, especially when it concerns things so dear to you.

In terms of long-term physical injury, my lower back was the biggest issue, but I wasn’t prepared for the psychological impact – the mental torment of post-traumatic stress, anxiety and deep depression.

If I had to nominate a score out of 10 for the pain and discomfort (reserving nine or 10 for childbirth which I’ve witnessed first-hand!), I’d say it was about a five-or-six all day, every day, with no end in sight.

I think I speak for a lot of people who’ve endured a serious accident when I say that the experience affects every aspect of your life – as an individual, a spouse/partner, a parent, a friend.

I didn’t feel like leaving the house because I was unable to drive, sit or stand for any length of time. This closed off having a social life and doing things I’d usually love, such as watching my kids play sport or going to family occasions. Romance was also off the cards.

Jenny effectively inherited a fifth child (me) to look after, having to do most things for our young family because I was incapable or unwell. She has been absolutely amazing throughout this tough ordeal. Forget sporting stars and celebrities who the public tends to idolise –

partners and carers like Jenny are true heroes, in my book.

For more than a decade, my head was hazy from taking large amounts of prescribed opiates. In hindsight, the only upside of the drugs was they killed the pain. They come with lots of downsides, including withdrawal issues. I lost my rational reasoning ability and attention to detail.

As anyone who has suffered a serious injury can attest, sleep becomes an elusive thing – a distant dream, pardon the pun – and the deprivation can be debilitating.

I also had recurring pneumonia and pleurisy that we eventually (six years after the crash) discovered was being caused by a 20cm tear in my lung, presumably from the airbag.

I’m usually a positive person (or try to be), but I’ve experienced my fair share of ‘dark days’. That’s when I made a pact with myself that if I got to the point where I’d lost perspective and started thinking about ending my life, I had to go directly to the local hospital.

I can’t count on two hands the number of times that I admitted myself to get help, so I wouldn’t do something regrettable. The hospital staff were fantastic on each occasion.

I attended a pain management program in the year following my accident, but wasn’t in the right headspace yet to gain full value from it. A few years later, I attended another such program and found it very useful in learning to cope with enduring pain.

Over the years, I’ve had numerous operations to put my hip, shoulder and lung right, but there was little that could be done in terms of surgery for my spine. I’d got to the stage where I thought we’d gone as far as we could in terms of medical treatment. I’d have to live out my life with the pain that spreads across the width of my back and radiates down into my butt and legs.

I’ve often said I’d give up any Tattslotto winnings to get my health back, but as it turned out, I hit the jackpot in another way when my doctor introduced me to a little gizmo called a superior cluneal nerve stimulation implant.

The implant is a bit like a heart pacemaker crossed with a Tens machine. It’s implanted into the small of your back and has wires that send pins and needles sensations up your spine and across the hipline.

In March this year, I started a trial of the device. When it was switched on, there was instant relief. I thought ‘Hallelujah – my physical pain is gone and it doesn’t involve drugs!’

I can’t express how ecstatic I was to have this new lease of life. I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my family. When I was alone that night, I sat there and cried tears of joy. Absolute jubilation. A bright future was back in reach.

I didn’t want the eight-day trial to end. Fortunately, I only had to wait 11 days to have my permanent implant inserted (on 26 March whichI consider my ‘re-birthday’ date).

I have to be careful not to overdo things, because the implant hasn’t fixed my injury per se, but I can do so much more now.

I’m very grateful for all the assistance I’ve received from the TAC, including home modifications, equipment and ergonomic furniture to improve safety, comfort and independence. The TAC has also helped me go back to ‘school’ to gain new qualifications because I was unable to return to my old job due to my physical restrictions.

I’m looking forward to finishing my diploma, so I can work as a drug, alcohol and suicide counsellor. I think my experience over the past 12 years has given me valuable insight and empathy that I want to use to help others.

We are also planning a long-awaited family holiday as well as ticking off an extended ‘bucket list’, thanks to the magic gadget in my back.

Ben

Renee

Renee

I was just 21 when I had my accident. I had an extremely active lifestyle – I worked full-time at a publishing company and taught aerobics, about 15 classes a week. I was also a runner, which I did almost every day, along with horse riding. I was in the prime of my life, basically.

The day of my accident was February 14, 1991, Valentine’s Day. I’ll never forget it – not for Valentine’s reasons, but for the fact my life changed drastically that day.I was in a head-on collision after a taxi veered onto the wrong side of the road. Unfortunately my seatbelt failed and I was thrown into the windscreen. Immediately after the accident I could smell petrol, and all I could think was ‘my car’s going to blow’. I was terrified.

With the smell of that fuel, my adrenalin kicked in. Thankfully the side passenger window had smashed so I was able to get out that way.When I got out of the car, I was in shock but I wasn’t in a huge amount of pain. I had a few cuts and lacerations, but I could only focus on the fact that I had an exam that night and I needed to get going so I didn’t miss it. I hitchhiked down to my exam, which was really stupid, but thinking back on it now I realise I was in shock. I think I just hadn’t coped that well with the whole situation and just wanted to move on. I sat the exam later that night, but by then I was in huge amounts of pain.The next day I had this really shocking burning pain down my leg. I thought ‘maybe I’ve got whiplash’. The GP did some tests and told me I had probably injured my spine, but because I was young it would come good. It didn’t, and after a few months I was sent to a specialist and had an MRI. I had prolapsed the L4, L5, S1 and S2 discs. I also had spondylosis, which decompressed the nerves in the right leg so I lost feeling in parts of my butt and parts of my leg, which is an advantage when you need injections!The specialist asked me if I wanted the good news or the bad news. The bad news was I could easily end up in a wheelchair and the good news was they could operate and hopefully I wouldn’t. I was just devastated. I remember thinking, ‘My God, I’m only 21’. I decided to have the surgery and it went very well. Before the surgery I used to have severe sciatic pain, that burning pain that’s like a hot dagger running down your leg. I remember standing up after the surgery and it was gone. I still had a lot of back pain though, which I took a lot of medication for.My doctor said getting pregnant would compromise my recovery, but for me, my desire to have kids was very strong. That was my goal, I wanted to do it and I did. I had three miscarriages, one where I haemorrhaged and I thought I was never going to be able to have children. Getting pregnant for me was easy. It was holding the pregnancy that was the challenge. Every day I feared I would lose this precious little developing person because of my body’s lack of ability to cope with the increasing demands on my spine.But then I became pregnant with Jake when I was 29, gave birth when I was 30 and I had April when I was 32. My beloved Jake and April have been the best thing I have ever fought for. The unconditional love that flowed through my entire being when they placed them in my arms was just amazing. Raising them is the most important purpose in my life. Between my two kids I breastfed for about six years, and that’s probably been the only real time since the accident that I’ve been totally drug free.After the surgery, I attempted to go back to work full-time but it just wasn’t working. So I started temping and that gave me the flexibility to be able to say, ‘Yes I can work today, I’m well enough’ or ‘No, I’m having a lot of pain in my back’ without bothering the employer.There are many areas of my life where my injury has had a major impact but one of the most painful was the breakdown of my marriage. Living with someone who has chronic pain is not an easy thing. Personally I became quite withdrawn and a bit antisocial. I didn’t have the energy to go out, I can’t sit down well when I go out for dinner and when I go to bed with pain I just want to be left alone. All of those things affect the dynamic of your relationship.

The TAC gave me access to a psychologist, which was really beneficial. The psychologist helped me understand that at times I was making things worse for myself by ‘soldiering on’. I’m a very motivated and goal-driven person and there were times when I was pushing myself that hard that I’d end up back at Epworth Hospital on morphine to have forced rest, because I’d just load on the meds and keep going. When I was young I was the classic girl who loved pony club, loved riding, loved horses. Horseriding was the freest feeling in the world and I wanted to get that feeling back.So in 2011 after 20 years of waiting for my spine to heal, I finally went back to riding.I joined Riding for the Disabled as one of their individual riders, then went onto their squad. When you go and ride with them it’s fine because you’re all hobbling. Some of them are in chairs or on walking sticks and there’s times when I’m on a walking stick.Being on a horse to me is just the ultimate because of the freedom you feel when you’re riding. My horse is 17.1 hands, so she’s a powerful horse. You can feel the power and the speed that I lack so much in my own body now. For me, I just live for it. My coach is fantastic, she brings the riding very much back to yourself. “Fix you, fix your horse,” she always says. Sometimes I think that’s challenging because I find myself really hard to fix. Competing in the Paralympics is my long-term goal. I’d love to make Rio but I’m also very realistic of the fact that I’ve still got two young dependent children who take a lot of time and effort, and financial resources as well.There are a lot of challenges that come with the horses because of the physicality. But all of that becomes nothing when you get up on the horse. Just the enjoyment and the freedom that it gives you – it’s the thing that’s honestly keeping my feet on the earth, because I take loads of meds every day. The riding is the thing that definitely drives me.

Renee

John

It’s inevitable that there’ll be ups as well as downs – successes, setbacks and

frustrations – on the ‘come-back’ journey after an accident. That’s just life!

John

There’s no doubt that keeping focused on positives and working towards recovery and rehabilitation goals after a serious accident is vital, but it’s also important to talk about those less-than-perfect days or weeks that we all have.I’ve always been a motivated person who thrives on working. But being driven has been both an advantage and a hindrance in my rehabilitation. While my competitive streak has kept me striving to get better and move on with life, at times it has also seen me set unrealistically high standards, then think I was ‘a failure’ if things didn’t eventuate the way I’d hoped.

John

Prior to my accident, I was in my element working as acivil engineer (specialising in tunnelling and underground works) on large-scale construction projects across the country. On weekends I pursued my passion for cycling. I was also dedicating an increasing amount of time to looking after my ageing parents. On the afternoon of 23 February 2007, I had some time spare before visiting my parents, so I hopped on the bike for a ride to Frankston. Pedaling along at about 30km/h, I was struck from behind by a ute. The crash came without warning and I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I hit the ground heavily and felt immense pain in my back. Instinct told me to try to get off the road and out of the path of traffic. I was in shock, but knew that my condition was serious. I thought I might even die.I was incredibly lucky that my height and cycling posture meant I escaped a severe brain injury (because my head didn’t strike the ute’s bonnet or windscreen); and two off-duty ambulance officers happened to be driving past the accident scene and were able to assist me immediately.I wasn’t interested in who was at fault or who was to blame, I just wanted to get medical help fast. My brain and body went into ‘survival mode’.I was taken to the emergency hospital for numerous x-rays, scans and tests. Those distressing initial hours and days change your life – I think you never get over it. It’s impossible for someone who hasn’t had a near-death experience to fully comprehend the gravity of it. I had very competent doctors and surgeons who explained that I wouldn’t heal unless I had surgery – a spinal fusion – to repair my fractures.I also had terrible burns, grazes and bruises as well as difficulty breathing because of my internal injuries.After the operation, then a short stint in the rehabilitation centre, I moved back into my mum’s place because I was very restricted in what I was allowed to do. I couldn’t live alone as I wasn’t even allowed to lift a kettle!While I love my parents dearly, this was tough for me because I was accustomed to having my independence – my own space and my way of doing things. I was also coming to terms with what had happened to me.I got back to walking, albeit like a very old man at first, and then tackled another goal by overcoming my nerves to return to driving. My major goal though was getting back to work, and six months after the crash date I

attempted this. I only lasted two days – it was exhausting and I couldn’t keep it up. I still remember the pain of standing in a packed train. My second attempt, this time with the support of a TAC arranged Return to Work Facilitator, was much better. I found, however, that some work colleagues had difficulty adjusting to my changed circumstances and restricted capacity. While some managers and clients were extremely supportive (and amazed when they saw the size of the scar on my spine), others would set deadlines, meetings or interstate trips that didn’t respect my part-time status or altered work arrangements. They didn’t seem to comprehend that I was using my ‘non-work’ days to undertake rehabilitation and therapy as well as restore my energy levels to go back to work the next time. I started to feel that I wasn’t performing up to the high standard that admittedly I had imposed on myself. I was stressed, full of self-doubt and concerned about the future of my job. Work had always been a significant part of my identity and it hurt my pride that I was ‘failing’. I started feeling very depressed, cut down. In hindsight and with the help of my psychologist, I recognise that I was being too hard on myself. The accident and injuries distorted my thinking…on many matters, not just work. Eventually I was made redundant, but I tried to see the positive side and use that time to do some things for my family and myself.During that difficult period I was also in the process of settling my TAC claim which was occupying my mind outside of work hours. I was relieved and pleased when that process was completed and my barrister (who had far more experience than me in this area) said he believed my settlement result was ‘a fair outcome’. At the end of 2012 I took up a new job that saw me sitting down most of the time. Anyone with a spinal injury will attest that this is the most painful thing for us to do. Again, I tried to stay positive but I wasn’t able to keep it up. I’m sure many others who’ve been involved in a crash agree that their accident and its aftermath have forced them to re-evaluate themselves and what is really important. At present I’m not in paid employment but I’m keeping myself busy. I told my psychologist some time back that I’ve got lots of things that I need to do before I die – I’ve got a garage full of bike parts that need to be used and unfinished tasks that have to be done! I’m looking forward and doing my best now to adjust my sights so that I am kinder on myself and happier as a result. It really is a ‘take one day at a time approach’. Hopefully, I will even get back into the tunnelling industry again.

John

A new place for road safety conversations

The TAC has launched a new website where Victorians can have open and honest discussions about road safety. Open Roads is a place where you can learn and be inspired by one another – with the goal of making our roads a safer place for all. On Open Roads you’ll find a multitude of content including some of the Transport Accident Commission’s most memorable ads, the latest road safety news, advances in safety technology, and some real-life stories from people who’ve been directly affected by road trauma, including these Your Voice stories.

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