Barry Deeks The Bizarre and Enchanting Life

Chapter 5

Life after the road traffic incident

I can clearly recall leaving the ward in Nottingham Queens medical unit and arriving in the Countess of Chester unable to talk. I was given a letter board so that I could communicate with people. I was able to tell people that I could still hear and see, something people were not sure on whether I could or not.

During my life I have often been the centre of attention and I am very comfortable with this. I have been in so many thousands of fights and chatted up so many scores of ladies when I found the nerve, whilst simultaneously valiantly standing up to all the bullies.

One of the many phases I went through was writing 49 poems about my beloved Rachael in the space of a week. She's the one person that means more to me than anyone else in the world. All my creations are special but she is extra special.

The worlds politicians are next to useless, I want them to go home put the kettle on, put their feet up and stop worrying because I'm here now, please leave everything to me. Your majesty you may not knight me, I was always sir anyway.

I have learned years after the accident that it was no accident nor was it suicide, the people that work for me protected me and I didn't come close to death really. I was surrounded by miracle workers and my hospitalisation was carefully monitored. Despite the Elite throwing me in the lorries path in the first place.

When I came around out of a coma, I was in a higher state of consciousness. I thought I was in a waiting room to go to heaven or hell. I could remember France but not coming back, not at first anyway.

When I was given the letter board the first thing I asked was "what happened"? I was informed by my grandpa I had been hit by a lorry. My grandpa was often there he would have been about 76, I loved him dearly.

Three of my friends came to see me at different times whilst in hospital. Once I got out of bed and fell down, straight away the nurses came to my aid but all I wanted was a drink, not a drop or morsel had passed my lips in a month.

I was being fed by feed tube, directly into my stomach. I still couldn't talk though I became increasingly aware of my surroundings. This is when I was given a letter board to communicate.

I developed a fixation with patterns, there was nothing else to do but look at the straight lines. Just checking that everything added up, as if I might notice a glitch in the matrix if it exists that is.

I was transferred again to Clatterbridge rehabilitation centre, this is where I learnt to walk and talk all over again. One day I said my first syllable, I was able to say most of what I could say before the accident after two or three days.

I wrote to my penpal in France, someone who I later called my pacifying agent, Clare. In the beginning she said that she thought I had given up writing to her but then I told her about the lorry. At first when I started to write I could only use my left hand but although it was not my best hand it was better than hers.

I once got into fight with a lad whilst I was in a wheel chair, who was himself in a wheel chair. I won of course and he started the fight, as he punched me for turning the television over. I toppled his chair and left his dormitory, the nurses knew I had done it but could not prove it. I just waited round the corner at the end of the corridor in my room and a charge nurse came to have a word with me. He said, "How's your day been?"

I replied, "It was a good day", I went in depth about all the things I did. Even then I liked to keep busy. Then I told him that Phil the guy in the wheelchair had punched me, I told him that I had punched him back.

When I wasn't doing physio or occupational therapy, I was usually reading science books. The head OT was someone I met in later life In the acquired brain injury unit along Chester road whilst we watched a promotional video in which I featured a few times. By the way I did all my own stunts.