A Trauma Abroad

Even though I have already posted about the crash, I wanted to share my experience of having a major trauma in a foreign land and how I was treated.

I want to start from just after I hit the deck.  Initially, I was lying in the ditch over some big rocks screaming like a baby.  I admit I'm not brave at the best of times but this was pain like I have never felt before.  (By the way read the previous post if you haven't already so it makes sense.) I shouted for the first couple on the scene to help me up.  I was aware I could move my head and limbs ok so I didn't think anything can be broken.

As they pull me to my feet I realise the pain is too intense to stand up, so I lie down on the road on my side which didn't hit the wall.  Other people arrive on the scene and try to offer comfort.  Something soft is put under my head and I'm given shade and water.  As I'm lying there I can feel it difficult to breathe and very painful if I try to take a deep breath.  It's now I begin to think that I have really knackered myself.  There is a big gash on my shin and a large egg is developing, but I can't feel it due to the pain in my back and lung.

Being of a theatrical temperament I started to panic about my breathing which of course worsened the effects which in turn panicked me more.  I did, at one point, think this could be it, no ambulance in sight, no medical provisions to help me.  It was only the calming nature of the people who had stopped to help, particularly the English couple, Dr Steph (a German holidaymaker) and a Spanish gent who talked some sense back into me that stopped me freaking out completely.

After a lifetime (90 minutes) of lying on my side on the tarmac, the ambulance arrived.  By this time my arms and legs were pins and needles and I was getting sore all over.  The ambulance drivers then had a debate with Dr Steph as to my injuries and how to get me up off the road.  As it turned out, the "just get him up, let him scream like a girl" approach was used and I was strapped to a board and hauled into the blood wagon.

Now, the most important question you will ever get asked in situations like this was asked of me...

"Do you 'av the private insurance?"

Fortunately, I could answer "Yes".  This was followed by another quick debate and then a Spanish lady, who had stopped to help, telling me "that's good, they will take you to a good hospital now".

The ride to the hospital was horribly bumpy and seemed like ages.  When I did arrive at the hospital I was seen straight away.  The unnerving thing is the doctors talking over you in Spanish.  I did do Spanish for a year in school, but I'm limited to telling you my name, my age and where I live.  Oh and ordering a hot chocolate.

A doctor then told me (and my wife and daughter who had arrived ahead of me) that a CT scan and X-rays were needed.  These were done straight away, and the diagnosis of broken ribs, vertebra and punctured lung was given to us.

It was at this point that the real shock kicked in.  My realisation that I'd singlehandedly ruined my wife and daughters holiday and caused untold havoc on immediate arrangements sunk in.  

I cursed myself for two things straight away:

1) I'd paid an extra €20 to extend my bike hire until the Friday

2) I'd upgraded the holiday booking from b&b to half board!  All those dinners to be left uneaten!

On a serious point, and probably the moral of this story, the insurance company was fantastic.  My daughter (who was equally fantastic at dealing with a crisis) spoke to them and they then dealt with the hospital directly.  I wouldn't need to pay up front for anything and my personal medical limit is in 7 figures.  It sounds daft to worry about money after a serious accident, but it really can be a worry abroad. Even though you are covered with your E111 (in Europe (for the time being!)), private insurance makes certain that the care that you are given is the best (in my experience anyway).

I was moved to intensive care for a chest drain to be put in to re-inflate the part of my lung that had collapsed.  After that was done, and I climbed back down off the ceiling into bed, I was dosed up like a 90's pro racer and slept on and off for the next 18 hours.

I was on all sorts of monitors and checked regularly by the staff.  They were all very attentive and all made a good go at speaking English.  After I had 15 hot chocolates lined up by my bed side they realised I was trying to say thank you.

I still think that I should have been on at least first name terms with the young nurse who gave me a thorough bed bathing on that first morning, but hey, this is what it must be like abroad, so I went with it.

So after some haggling with the insurance company they agreed to fly me home via air ambulance.  The problem was that if they took my chest drain out, I couldn't fly for 3 weeks, and if its left in I can't fly commercial.  But fair play to them, they sorted it out and for a bed to be awaiting me at my local hospital back home.  So after 6 nights in intensive care, I got to go home.

A doctor and nurse team arrived to collect me and my wife in an ambulance to take us to the plane.  They were fantastic.  I got a last minute CT scan to ensure they could fly at altitude.  Fortunately I was good to go.  If that had not been the case they would have flown us at low level at 3 times the cost (circa £30k) and have had to stop to refuel on a much slower flight.

I got the full sirens and flashing lights treatment to the airport.  We were then driven onto the private part of the airport, a few security questions then driven out to the plane.

It was small.  Not sure what I expected but this was about a 10 seater.  Hard to get in and out of (for a croc like me) but ok once you are seated.

 As a precaution I was strapped into a stretcher for take off but as I felt no pain I moved to the "lounge area" for refreshments during the flight

We landed after 1 hr 40 in Liverpool in heavy rain.  An ambulance was waiting to collect us to take us to Arrowe Park Hospital.  Another blue light journey.

Overall, a first class service and the medical team from Luxembourg Air Rescue were fantastic.  I can only thank the insurance company for their superb efforts and especially Dr Raul in Majorca who ensured I was pain free whilst I was under his care.

But that's only half the story.  I was now going into the care of the NHS.  How would this measure up?  If nothing else, I get the inside view on the direct comparison between foreign private health care and our beloved NHS.  In the next blog I will give an honest opinion as to my treatment.