Birthdays are significant occasions in my family – we cherish every opportunity to gather. My father’s 60th birthday, which took place in May last year, was especially memorable as relatives journeyed from Germany to Eastbourne, in East Sussex, for the celebration.
I spent the early morning with my sisters at my mum’s place nearby. Since she has a birthday in the same week, we celebrated hers first. Around noon, we chose to head to my dad’s house, just a short drive away.
Two years prior, at 22, I obtained my motorbike license after yearning to learn throughout my teenage years. My dad is an avid motorbike enthusiast – that’s what motivated me – but my mum always had her concerns.
On that day, I opted to ride my motorbike to my dad’s residence. I am very familiar with his road – I grew up there.
Recalling the following events is challenging. My life shifted in an instant. As I rode down my dad’s street, just moments away from his home, a pigeon unexpectedly flew into my open helmet. I learned about this from the CCTV footage recorded by a neighbor’s door cam. In a split second, I had turned my head, startled by the bird, and veered directly into a parked Volvo. I began doing flips in the air, hitting my head on the ground upon landing and skidding down the road into a curb.
My mum and two sisters arrived a few minutes later, discovering motorbike parts strewn across the road and me lying still. My younger sister was hysterical and ran to fetch my dad. Fortunately, many of my family members possess medical training: my dad is a trauma and army doctor, my older sister works as a hospital physician, and my mum is a GP.
Dad informed me that my pupils were dilated, and I was blue, unresponsive, and bleeding from both inside and outside due to my injuries. He mentioned that my face was so badly damaged you could fit an entire finger into the wounds. He nearly refuses to discuss it to this day.
An ambulance arrived in minutes. The paramedics hesitated to take off my helmet due to concerns over worsening a spinal injury, but my dad insisted that he would prefer me to be in a wheelchair than dead and removed it anyway.
When I regained consciousness in Brighton hospital one week later, I had lost all memories of the accident, as well as any recollections from a month prior. I was informed about my accident and felt terrified and bewildered as doctors enumerated my injuries. My skull had been fractured, I had two brain bleeds, lost three litres of blood, my pelvis was shattered, and my back was fractured in six places. Additionally, I suffered a broken shoulder, four broken ribs, a broken finger, a fractured knee, internal bleeding, and my bladder was filled with blood.
I repeatedly viewed the CCTV footage, and examined scans and surgical photos in an effort to reconstruct the events, but it felt surreal. I required three surgeries just to address my pelvis. I had already undergone an eye surgery, which I have no recollection of.
I remained hospitalized for another month but was still unable to walk for three months. I was incapable of using the restroom independently and needed constant assistance. It was heartbreaking to witness the sorrow in my family’s eyes. My dad continues to avoid watching the footage, while my mum and sister admitted they would sit in my room and weep, terrified I wouldn’t survive.
Doctors labeled me a medical miracle after my six-month recovery, yet I still endure pelvic, facial nerve, and brain injuries. Despite my apprehension, I now get back on my motorbike frequently. It required numerous adjustments – my legs are of different lengths now due to the pelvis injury. While I no longer ride on the road, I continue to pursue my passion by using motorbike tracks. I also look at pigeons differently now. In a way, they serve as a reminder of my fortune to be alive.
The most significant lesson from this experience is the crucial importance of protective gear. My helmet cost over £1,000, and without its high quality, I wouldn’t be here today. One thing is certain – I now appreciate birthdays and time spent with family more than I ever have.
As recounted to Elizabeth McCafferty
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