As horse riders, we hope it never happens to us. On 21 August, EQ Life’s dressage expert and much-loved member of the Australian equestrian community, Roger Fitzhardinge, had a serious fall and found himself wondering if he would be okay.
“We were both in a great
on-the-bit position — but
unfortunately not upright.”
Friday afternoon was time for an unscheduled weekend off… and I mean OFF.
I was riding at walk on the bit on a new galloway I bought, when something frightened him in the wind from behind, causing him to jump forward and right. I went with him — albeit a little side-saddle — and we both hit the deck with the full brunt to my left shoulder and side.
So off I went yelling for help, laying in a crumpled heap fully knowing I had broken myself badly as there was an off noise when my bones hit the floor. My galloway seconded that and left the scene unscathed but for sure as shocked as I was. Bless him! I can only imagine his thoughts as we were both in a great on-the-bit position — but unfortunately not upright.
Diamond B Farm owner (and my friend for over 40 years) Helen Chugg, Amanda Madigan and Bree Furze raced over, as I was seriously going off… but my loudest voice ever soon turned to a pathetic pant. Helen called the ambos with great gusto and went off to get blankets, as I was so cold and struggling to breath. On her return I was not much better in the breathing department, but had managed to turn into a sweating mess… something that resembled a poor horse suffering an adverse reaction to prostaglandin! The difference was that I was white as a ghost and very still.
By this time I was propped up against Bree’s legs sitting on the arena, swaddled in Helen’s best mohair blanket with Amanda’s comforting words, “You’re okay. You must be special — no one gets to be wrapped up in that mohair blanket!” I was thinking to myself ‘I love her optimism here!’
I recall a lot of heads looking towards the open gate at Diamond B Farm, near Freemans Reach north-west of Sydney. I knew they were thinking, “Hurry the f— up!” I was cast where I was, and could not see the gate, but I could read their minds as I wondered how long my tiny breaths could keep me going. I know they could read mine, despite not a peep from me, just tiny, pathetic sniffles and the odd muffled swear word. I knew my shoulder girdle was not stable, as my arm wouldn’t work, and that my ribs were busted because my chest couldn’t get much air in or out.
The ambo arrived to the quiet, crumpled, dripping old man being shrouded in mauve mohair and three great friends, who explained succinctly and calmly what had happened. The paramedics were absolutely amazing. Seriously incredible. I remember one asking where it hurt and I said my shoulder and collarbone. I thought, ‘Wait till he looks’. I was right. He pulled the neck of the T-shirt away and immediately proclaimed, “Well that’s fractured!” Off my clothes were cut and in went intravenous lines.
I never saw a green whistle, I only heard words like “draw up more morphine” and “let’s get another line in the other arm”… and then “the chopper will be here in a minute”. I heard Amanda’s words again, “You’re okay”. I was starting to really enjoy her optimism. After a few sentences of “get more morphine”, I started to see a lot more than green whistles. I reckon I saw a couple of angels!
“You must be special — no one
gets to be wrapped up in
that mohair blanket!”
The air was shuddering as the CareFlight helicopter landed in the broodmare paddock. The old prostaglandin horse that had looked a dripping mess was now flat-out and pale as a ghost being laid on a board nearly naked. Apparently not a great look, but dramatic. Thinking, “you’re okay!”
There was now a whole film set surrounding me, including police cars with lots of disco lights and another flashing ambulance on the dressage arena. I reckon by this stage the mind was ready to have the best freestyle demo ever, but my body was not in any way interested in what the mind was saying. It was in no uncertain way saying “as if!” (and that’s the printable, polite interpretation). I was telling the paramedics my details and you should’ve seen the look on their faces when I said fair and square that my age was 42!
Those guys and all the responders were pros beyond my wildest imaginings. The care and teamwork and the way they went about stabilising me was totally incredible. At no stage did I not feel totally safe and confident it was covered. Their logic about transferring me to Westmead with the CareFlight chopper was that they believed I may have had a pneumothorax (collapsing lung) developing and transfer was urgent. Transfer by road during Sydney’s Friday peak hour could have been a disaster.
After a thoughtful and logical discussion, I had no choice and with consummate ease was loaded and strapped down for the flight to Westmead. I don’t remember a lot, but for the odd thumbs up and a gloved hand to reassure me. A few bumps, but I reckon all was numb by then. The landing at Westmead was so smooth that I would not have spilt a drop from a full champagne glass.
The trauma team at Westmead took over and I was sorted in what seemed minutes. Scans from head to toe and X-rays revealed what was diagnosed by the team at Diamond B Farm: fractured ribs on the left from rib two to rib seven, a small pneumothorax, and a very unstable fractured collarbone.
The trauma team followed my progress and with no single rooms or any beds free, I stayed in emergency for nearly 24 hours. I have to say that “you’re okay” was wearing thin by now, but I was in for the long haul… that I was determined to make a short haul.
“My weekend off was one
of my most memorable.”
I was transferred to a ward where the nurses and staff could not have been more accommodating and empathetic. I basically fasted until Saturday evening, except for some water and a sandwich at 11pm Friday while clothes-free in Emergency. I was well supplied with pain relief but had little rest, as I was getting my collarbone plated no matter what. I wasn’t giving in and at the last minute on Saturday evening, the orthopaedic team headed by Dr Jobe Shatrov, and wheeled along by the great staff on the ward, I was taken into theatre. A totally unsupported shoulder became a wonderfully plated and aligned clavicle within a few hours. It was then back to the trauma ward later where again I was looked after so well.
The pain management team were also incredible and their pain support for my ribs was stupendous. On Sunday I actually saw green whistles and angels and patterns on curtains that moved over the walls, and rubbish bins instantly getting bigger then smaller. I decided that was a sure indication that pain drugs are serious things.
I wondered again if Amanda was right, “You’re okay!”
I backed off the painkillers and all came good — so good that I managed to walk out on Monday. Helen picked me up a mere 70 hours after the CareFlight had dropped me off. She drove me back to my home at Diamond B Farm… the round trip was done. My weekend off was one of my most memorable and makes me realise I am okay!
I am now home. Black and blue down my left side, with an intact lung, a titanium collarbone and six broken ribs. Plenty of good medication and time to rest for a few days now and heal. I want to seriously thank everyone who stepped in and gave me a little bit of their own lives when I really felt I was not okay. To the paramedics and CareFlight, whom I will forever have at the forefront of the donations list, the trauma team, the surgeons and the nurses and hospital staff, the Diamond B Farm team and all the friends and acquaintances who went out of their way to cheer me along. It’s all your positivity and generous words and friendship that has me home in my own bed. Thank you!
ABOUT CAREFLIGHT
From a single helicopter operation in 1986, CareFlight is now Australia’s most experienced helicopter medical emergency service and flies throughout Australia and beyond to deliver critical care for those in need. This highly trained trauma team flies directly to accident scenes, effectively taking the hospital to the patient. The NSW CareFlight Rapid Response Helicopter Service is based on the grounds of Westmead Hospital. The service aims to be airborne and on its way to trauma incidents within five minutes of being called. This means that severely injured patients receive hospital level care as quickly as possible. Every minute saved is vital – for some patients the difference between life and death.
With many in our equestrian community living in rural areas, services such as CareFlight are critically important in the event of a serious riding accident. The CareFlight Rescue Helicopter is funded by the local community and local business. Find out how to help keep them in the air here. EQ
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE TO READ:
Courageous Kiwi blazes her own trail – Part 2 (By Roger Fitzhardinge)
