Scribes of a Star Wars fan! - Issue #37
"We can rebuild him, we have the technology..."
I've written about my life-changing brain injury, at the age of 5, previously. So, perhaps it's worth repeating on the 45th anniversary.
From a primary school teacher's alleged failure in duty of care (despite witnessing the classroom incident) and dad carrying me, dying, in his arms to a hospital unable to diagnose symptoms until our family GP, who years earlier had saved the life of a soldier in Vietnam, recognised the tell-tale signs of a brain haemorrhage.
Plans were made to airlift me to Great Ormond Street Hospital by air ambulance. However, too much time had elapsed and it was deemed too great a risk. On the balance of probabilities, I would have died before the helicopter had landed.
Amidst the upheaval of an ambulance journey (between Torbay and Freedom Fields hospitals) replete with a police escort, emergency blood transfusions and surgery undertaken by two eminent neurosurgeons of the time. My parents had the foresight to give their permission for the operation to be filmed (regardless of the outcome). This was for training and educational purposes to support families facing a similar predicament.
To date, I've never seen my film debut, but am proud of my parents for making that brave choice. If it helped one person.
Thankfully, several weeks later I awoke from a coma, completely paralysed, in a children's hospital with my parents and cherished Six Million Dollar Man action figure keeping a bedside vigil. The last thing I remember was asking my mum for a lolly at the end of the school day...
Despite seemingly insurmountable odds, I, like the fictional character Harry Potter, was the boy who lived. Once I was able to speak, my most pressing concern was missing Doctor Who and The Muppet Show on TV!!! Because priorities.
Ingeniously, the medical staff used the Bionic Transport & Repair Station playset from the Six Million Dollar Man toy line to help me begin to understand and comprehend what had happened.
Following weeks of recovery and amassing a collection of Denys Fisher Doctor Who toys, LEGO, puzzles and Mr Men books with thanks to family and friends, I was discharged home (against the advice of a senior physician). However, my weakened immune system meant within 48 hours I was back in hospital for a further period (an eternity to this newly wheelchair-bound 5-year-old). Putting pay to watching Wonder Woman, The Man from Atlantis and Batman, no less.
Ultimately, I was one of the lucky children who got to go home in time for the holidays. Stranger Things, Netflix's spellbinding mini-series homage to 1980s Americana, resonated deeply and Eleven reminded me of a girl, whom I'd befriended in children's hospital, but, tragically, she died due to complications. However, I never forgot her or the times we excitedly watched Doctor Who and The Muppet Show at Saturday teatimes, solved jigsaw puzzles and played Sorry!
Star Wars hadn't opened outside London in the UK. But, I remember the American neurosurgeon - who saved my life alongside a talented team - saying I had to promise him I'd see Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. He gave me a poster of R2-D2 and C-3PO as a parting gift! My parents donated toys and The Muppets-themed wallpaper to the children’s ward in heartfelt appreciation.
"Inspirational, muppetational..."
Rejection is a stern teacher and primary school friends, whom I’d befriended the summer previously, looked at me like a stranger now. Doubtlessly, they were as scared as I was. My parents were encouraged to move away and forge a new life with Christmas around the corner...
For many UK Star Wars fans (myself included) the gateway into George Lucas' space opera was via Marvel's weekly comic strip adaptation and making-of magazine. One of my earliest memories was starting at a new primary school, wheelchair-bound, and making a new friend who enthusiastically showed me his copy of Star Wars Weekly #2 before seeing the movie in early 1978. The evocative cover image of Luke Skywalker threatened by a Tusken Raider captured my youthful imagination.
The darkened theatre was a gateway to inspiring adventures. From clashing lightsabers to Greek myths and beyond.
From the age of 5 until 17 I was an outpatient undergoing rehabilitation that involved plaster casts (enthusiastically signed by primary school classmates), x-rays and intensive physiotherapy (at times recorded for educational purposes with consent). My brain injury left me with a permanent walking disability, which on balance was most fortunate.
Yes, there have been consequences from stereotyping to streaming in school and alienation.
As one of the only visibly disabled kids, it drew attention in school. Not always welcome and left me painfully self-conscious in my teens (something time hasn’t assuaged). This theme is perfectly distilled in Tim Burton’s Edward Scissorhands. Wish I could tell my younger self that it wasn’t my fault, whatsoever. And that there would be girls who’d be attracted to me.
This is in no way unique to me, of course.
There was no TARDIS, X-wing or Batmobile in which to make my escape. That said, I'll be forever grateful to my late mum for fighting to secure a return to mainstream school and this facilitated further disabled students' entry. Pathfinding is never easy as history attests.
However, it has never detracted from making friends and getting back onto a bike months after the injury. As an uncle once said: “You won’t be beaten and that extends to those you champion.”
Thankfully, no further surgery was required. There were plans to fit a metal plate where part of my skull bone was removed, during the life-saving operation, once I came of age. However, this was deemed unnecessary when x-rays revealed bone tissue was growing back. No transformation into a Cyberman, but I’m quite partial to saying: “Excellent!” So, there’s that.
“Oh boy!” As Doctor Sam Beckett would say.
This journey culminated in appearing before junior doctors to discuss living with a life-changing trauma at Exeter University. Suffice it to say, I was a very shy 17-year-old college student and got the giggles during a Q&A. However, imagining I was Indiana Jones helped, immeasurably, and does to this day. Thanks, George & Steven.
Years later, I was invited back to Exeter University. Albeit under different circumstances as a guest speaker at a media careers conference. This time I lost my voice, having found myself surrounded by enthusiastic students with questions, lots of brilliant questions.
Having lived and breathed Star Wars. In the mid-nineties, I responded to an article in the official Lucasfilm Fan Club (Star Wars Insider) regarding an upcoming BBC Radio 1 documentary celebrating the saga's 20th anniversary. The director was looking for fans to share their Star Wars story. I was selected and interviewed at BBC Radio Devon. Alas, Lucasfilm decided not to use the fan segment, but it was a thrill to have had the opportunity.
The creative arts remain my sanctuary. As I’ve gotten older, I’m more reluctant to publicly share my artistic endeavours. Probably to preserve some semblance of privacy in an era dominated by social media.
So, that's 45 years of life - friendships forged and adventures shared - I wouldn't have had without the expertise of talented, international, medical experts working in the NHS.
My parents' unwavering belief and support can't be overstated. Mum may have passed away over 15 years ago, but her hopeful legacy lives on.
Thank you for reading this far. A wise school friend once suggested I should write a book, perhaps I will.
"May the Force be with you. Always.”
"Biker scout!"
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Thanks for reading the latest issue. Until next time, stay safe!