JBJ Hospital Diary pt 2

Thursday 30/7/09

I was left overnight in this horrible place. Everyone went back to the hotel, I had 2 excruciating rounds of X-Rays and a C.T scan. In the morning the orthopaedic surgeon (Dr Waddell, he as it turns out, is the man) came round and gave me the grim news. I had snapped both bones that run from the wrist to the elbow. They had broken near the elbow and had sheered off a chunk of the humorous bone with them, which was now sitting in among my muscles somewhere, which was the cause of the agonising spasms. He said it was a bad and rare injury, my arm was literally in bits and I had to have emergency surgery to try and fix it.

Soon after, I called my mum and bawled my eyes out, this time over what was happening and how much I was shitting myself. I dunno how anyone with a good relationship with their mother can hear her upset without automatically crying as well, we trigged each other. I dare say being 12,000 miles away from home didn’t help either.

I was put on a fast while I was waiting to be taken for the operation, which was to be as soon as a space appeared, the rest of the band flew onto Melbourne and Colin stayed with me. I was moved to bed 27 in a ward with a beautiful view of the city. I heard of radio stations talking about me, which made me feel both loved and embarrassed.
Dew Process and Secret Sounds sent me a bag of presents and a Superman card, surely the nicest label ever? The ward had an old man coming off alcohol and he made my stay extremely stressful and give me a completely sleepless night. It shocked me how he treated the staff here too, anytime they’d try to do anything for him in the most sincere and patient way, he’d shout and swear at them. Old bastard.

I sent Colin back to the hotel to rest, he hadn’t been to sleep from dealing with cancellations, flight changes etc. and was hang about to make sure I was okay, bless him. That night I got to eat, the operation had been changed to the next day, in the morning, or whenever I could be fitted in, joy. I hadn’t eaten in 20 hours, I got some absolutely disgusting hospital-made chicken stew with potato and horrible brocolli – it was amazing, somehow.

Before I passed out with whatever glorious drugs they had given me I spoke to my only sister, I had to talk her out of flying to Sydney. I also spoke to my boyfriend for the first time since the accident, chilling him out since he hadn’t heard from me in 2 days, then freaking him out by telling him what was going on, and right before he went on holiday too. Started to feel like an international party-pooper of life.