This week's training has bounced back. The hamstring strain cleared up and running was good again, so much so that today I ran my second and fifth fastest 5km (23:32 and 24:01, respectively) in the first and second legs of the second race in the Dunedin Tri Club Winter Duathlon series. I managed to shave 1:06 minutes off my previous time for the course, including around 45 seconds off the bike leg (averaging 35.3km/h).
While my swimming doesn't seem to be taking any great leaps forward in terms of speed, I feel a lot better in the water and I am able to relax more. While it might sound a little counter-intuitive, I am also working harder and I am noticing more power in my arms and shoulders. My kick is still weak, but improving.
After last week's crappy week of training I was worried that things were going to head down hill, but this week I felt like I was back in the land of the living. However, an incident in ICU at Austin Hospital in 2001 made me think that I had died and that I would not see Carleen again or meet my son James.
22 August 2001, some time in the evening
The last 24 hours have consisted mostly of sleep, broken by periods of semi-lucid discussions with the nurses and the few visitors that I have been able to have. My Auntie Sandy and her partner Leighann have been in and I am extremely thankful that they are here to support Carleen. Sandy is the youngest on my Dad's side of the family and she has been a great help since we arrived in Melbourne. She lives out on the Mornington Peninsula about 90 minutes' drive from the hospital, but she has come into town to be with Carleen. Carleen's cousin Jill and her partner Rhys have also been in to see me and support Carleen and it's great that Carleen has someone from her family here too. We've also got friends from Dunedin in Melbourne so, even though we have only been in Melbourne for six months, I am buoyed by the fact that there is a small support network here for Carleen.
I really can't remember much of the conversation from today, but the nurses have just said to me that it is great to have someone that is so positive in the ICU. "The conversation's not usually so entertaining in this place", one of them says. I vaguely recall pulling out some one liners at various points of the day and making the nurses laugh.
The pain is with me all the time, but it is bearable. They must have me doped up to the eyeballs, because I'm guessing you don't get away with being cut in half by a truck that lightly. I am stuck on my back and can't move at all without assistance and that is starting to become uncomfortable too, plus I have noticed that I am very swollen and getting larger by the hour. By now my hips and torso are bulging to about twice their normal size. Aside from the general pain in my lower abdomen and the swelling, I can't say that I am very aware of exactly what my injuries are. There's no specific pain, not yet anyway.
Carleen has just left for the day and there is a handover period for the nurses so, as there is double the number on duty for the half hour or so on either side of the shifts, its time to change my dressings. The dressings cover about 25-30% of my body and upper legs, stretching from halfway up my ribcage to just above the knee on my right-hand side and about half that area on the left. They cover the gravel rash where the skin was scrapped off by the road surface like coarse sand paper would rip the skin off an apple. In parts the wound is a centimetre or so deep and raw flesh is exposed and the entire mass oozes a clear fluid and patches of blood, so by now the dressings are swelling to the point of bursting.
I've been motionless for most of the last 24 hours so I haven't felt too much pain from the gravel rash, but the nurse has just begun to peel back the dressing and in an instant the air rushes in and lights up the flesh like it has been dowsed in petrol and set alight. I am filled with an overwhelming flight or fight reflex (I either want to run away from her very quickly or punch her in self defense), but I can do neither - I am trapped. "Sorry, I know that must have hurt, but we have to do this", she says with a genuinely apologetic and sympathetic look on her face. "We can give you some pain relief so that you don't feel anything at all. It's called Ketamine and it will make you feel a sense of euphoria", the other nurse explains. "Most people find it to be a pleasurable experience, but some people have a slightly different experience that they describe as being like being outside their body." She fills a syringe and draws out a small dose of Ketamine and attaches it to my IV line. "Okay, here we go. You'll feel this working pretty quickly."
Whoosh! My head is in a spin. Where am I? Who is that laying down there? What are those nurses doing to him? What is that white light? Oh shit! I'm dead! Stay away from the light! Oh no, its all-consuming! The light is taking over. HELP! HELP! HELP! I am drifting upwards towards the blindingly bright light off in the corner of the room and I can see myself on the bed, being turned one way and then the other by the nurses as they clean and re-dress my wounds. How can I have survived the initial crash only to die from a drug overdose? Its not fair, its not fair! Why can't they hear me? Why aren't they doing anything? Surely they know I am dead?
The light is fading, slowly... slowly and I am falling back to the bed. Then wammo! I am back in reality and the pain is intense. I am in a state of sheer terror. "What just happened? That was bloody awful! I thought I had died." "That's the adverse reaction. I am sorry about that. Some people do have an out of body experience. We didn't think it would be that bad as we only gave you 10% of the full dose", the new shift nurse explained. My heart was racing and I was still extremely frightened. "I don't want that stuff again. I don't care how much pain I am in, just don't give me that again, please." "Okay, I am really sorry about that, I haven't seen a reaction that bad before, especially on such a low dose."
Later a nurse explained that people use Ketamine as a recreational drug. On the street it is also known as 'Special K' or 'Vitamin K'. My advice: DON'T DO IT! It's also used to tranquilise horses for goodness sake. It can't be good for you!
Over the next days and weeks, I'd grow to regret my refusal of Ketamine. As daily dressing changes took pain levels to a new high. I didn't think things could get any more intense, but they did. One occasion in particular was beyond what any living being should have to endure. More on that later...
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