‘Every day is a miracle'
When I look back, Beth had always been strong-willed – even as a toddler. When I took her to her first dance class, aged just three, she was determined to twirl and skip her way to the front of the stage. As a single mum with no other children, I was Beth’s biggest fan – I never missed a performance. And when she wasn’t pirouetting, we’d be snuggled at home, watching films together. As she got older, she found a passion for musicals – she knew all the words to Chicago and Burlesque – and we’d gossip in between singing along to the famous tunes.
Not only was Beth my daughter, but she was my best friend, too. I felt so lucky – that is, until 23 September 2015.
I was at home when I got the phone call. ‘Beth’s been hit by a car,’ her boyfriend said, his voice shaking. ‘You need to come quick.’
The panic in his voice told me all I needed to know – Beth was seriously injured. He told me he’d called an ambulance, and they were in a village near to our home in Lincolnshire.
Terrible discovery
Knowing my trembling hands would never be able to drive a car, I called my sister, who picked me up. As we sped through the country lanes, I heard the sound of ambulance sirens, and my whole body turned cold. The closer we got to the scene of the accident, the heavier the traffic became.
Unable to wait any longer, as the car came to a standstill, I jumped out in search of Beth. Pushing through the crowds, a police officer appeared. He explained that Beth had been knocked down and thrown 10ft into the road. ‘She’s critical,’ he explained gently. I was only allowed a glimpse of Beth, but the image of my daughter on a stretcher, an oxygen mask over her face, is one that will stay with me forever.
While Beth was flown to hospital, my sister and I followed in the car. Medics were already working on Beth when we arrived and as they battled to stabilise her, all I could do was wait.
It was five hours before a doctor came to speak with me. He started by listing Beth’s injuries – fractures to her skull and pelvis, a broken eye socket and collar bone, three broken discs in the bottom of her spine and a collapsed lung. Then… ‘There are injuries to her brain, it’s unlikely she’ll survive the night,’ he said.
I’ve heard people say bad news takes time to sink in, but for me, the realisation was instant. The sound of my cries filled the room as I collapsed on the floor. ‘She’s going to die,’ I screamed over and over, as I fought the urge to be sick. I’d never see Beth dance again, or see her beautiful smile. My daughter was going to die – and I wanted to die, too.
That night, I sat in the chair next to Beth’s bed. I didn’t sleep – I wanted to be there holding her close when she finally slipped away. And yet, when the sun rose, Beth was still with me, still alive. In the midst of this nightmare, it was the very first glimmer of hope – Beth was fighting. Only, then the doctors did a brain scan, and the results revealed that just 8% of Beth’s brain was still functioning – she was severely brain damaged. Even if she came round, she wouldn’t be the daughter I once knew – but the truth is, right then I didn’t care. As long as Beth was alive that’s all that mattered.
Small improvements
The weeks that followed were a blur. Beth was pumped full of drugs and she had an operation to remove some of her skull to relieve the pressure on her swelling brain. Two weeks after the accident, she started breathing for herself, and then she opened her eyes for the first time. To me, those moments felt like huge victories, but doctors were careful to manage my expectations – this may be all the progress she would make.
Even when Beth was moved to a rehabilitation clinic in November 2015 and started physiotherapy, I was warned that she may make no further improvement. It took nurses weeks to teach her to squeeze her hand into a fist, and follow light with her eyes – simple things to you and me, but for Beth, they took tremendous effort.
Only then, in April 2016, one of Beth’s cousins came to visit, armed with an ipad and keyboard. She was determined to try to communicate with Beth but, the truth is, I thought it was a silly idea. I’d been told countless times that Beth was unlikely to understand even the simplest of words. But her cousin was adamant. She held Beth’s finger up to the keyboard and asked a question.
‘What is the capital of England?’ For a second there was no movement, but then her finger started to tremble.
‘I’d never see beth dance again’
It took 10 minutes but, slowly, Beth typed out ‘London’.
Even now, I can remember the utter joy of that movement. The way we all laughed and cried, and squeezed Beth tightly. Not only could she communicate, but she could understand. It was then that I knew it – the doctors were wrong. Beth was going to get better.
From then on, with each day that passed, Beth seemed to improve. In May 2016, she whispered her first word and in July, she took her first shaky steps. I can’t pretend it was easy. There were days when Beth would forget what she’d had for breakfast that morning, or get so frustrated that she would scream. But she was determined. We’d play Connect 4 and listen to her favourite songs in order to exercise her brain and, in October 2016, she walked – albeit with a frame – out of the hospital.
Determined to get on with life
Now it’s over two years since Beth’s accident and doctors still can’t explain how she managed to make such an incredible recovery.
My daughter will never be the person she was before – now, aged 21, she can be quite immature. She has mood swings like a teenager, and she’s short-tempered. And, because she gets confused easily, she has an assistant who is with her every day to help her.
But speech therapy means she can now speak in full sentences and with more physiotherapy she can get herself ready in the morning. She goes to college, where she’s studying health and social care, and she’s taking singing lessons.
Even now, I can’t quite believe how far Beth has come. That first day in hospital, I thought her life – and mine – was over. But Beth is more resilient and determined than even I could ever have known. Despite what everyone expected, she came back to life. I couldn’t be prouder.