When I jumped in front of the train I lost part of my leg. Just my foot really. It was sliced off immediately between the train and the track. When they airlifted me to hospital they brought my foot but there was nothing they could do. When my parents arrived they had to give their consent to the amputation to try clean up the wound and sew it back together. Learning to walk again wasn’t even on the cards. I was placed of life support and surviving the night would be the biggest challenge.

When I woke up a month later I was confused. I did not know what had happened. All I knew was that I was in a hospital and I could not move. I remember seeing the sign above the nurse’s station across from my room.

Spinal injury unit

I thought that’s strange. There must be no beds in A&E. When they were changing me I first noticed my leg, or loss of should I say. I saw the bandage and I knew part of my limb was missing. I was in a state of shock horror but I was unable to speak or communicate due to the trachea I had in place. I just wept and accepted the fact I would never have a life again.

When we got the news to say the spinal surgery had been a success it was blurred by the fact I could still have a major spinal injury. Completely unaware of my own body functions and instead being washed and dressed by the nurses throughout the day. I had forgot how a body works. I had forgot one had to urinate and defecate. I could not feel it. I had no control over my body, no control over my bowels. I slowly started recovering and I was transferred back to Intensive Care in Tallaght Hospital. When I was finally able to speak again I asked the doctor if I would ever walk again. He told me he could not answer that question but he was hopeful.

I was twenty two years of age and I had just survived being hit by a train. I refused to let myself believe this was it. Living my worst nightmare paralyzed in the hospital bed. I said No I refuse to let this be it so I started pushing myself. Pushing myself to survive. Pushing myself to recover. When I finally started physiotherapy it was torture. Taking every bit of strength I had but I kept going. I refused to let myself be confined to a wheelchair at 22. I believed I could. I believed I would and sure enough 4 months later I was back walking. This was the first day I walked with my prosthetic leg and I was just so grateful. I was so grateful to be able to move and that gratitude was what gave me strength.

I am so thankful to have the resources like ottobock

https://www.ottobock.ie/

Learning how to walk with a prosthetic


This was the poem I wrote while trying to understand the severity of the suicide attempt and how I was still alive. I did not know how to sum up my feelings in words. It was just shock. Disbelief. Confusion. After writing this poem I finally knew I had summed up the feelings I felt.

learning how to walk again
The first poem wrote after the accident.