As an engineer, I was often away from my family in Northern Ireland while working on different projects. It was only when I got a job nearer home that my accident happened, and life as I knew it changed forever.
Before my injury, my partner Sara and I did as much outdoors as possible. We went skiing abroad each year, and I’d take trips to England, Wales and Scotland for mountain biking. Competing in the MacAvalance bike race that starts at the top of Ben Nevis was mayhem, but a real highlight.
After my accident, I spent two weeks in the high-dependency unit at the Royal Hospital in Belfast. I had a room of my own and was getting to know the staff when I was told I’d soon be moving to Musgrave Park for rehabilitation. I felt anxious, not knowing what to expect.
I arrived at Musgrave in early January and remember clearly being wheeled into Horatio’s Garden for the first time. I was met by a beautiful water feature outside the sliding doors and felt as though I had checked into a five-star hotel. It was beautiful and calm, and after a warm welcome from the garden team, I quickly felt my anxiety shifting.
At that time of year, the landscape outside still felt quite bare, with just some wee purple flowers growing. Day by day, the garden got brighter and more vibrant, and as it grew, I felt like I was growing with it, becoming more myself again.
My accident made me realise how close I was to my family and friends. In the four months I spent at Musgrave, I didn’t spend more than a few days without a visitor. At one point I had fourteen visitors in one day! And that’s where the garden came in – being able to catch up with family and friends away from the ward was incredible. If you needed to offload, the wee pods were so quiet and out of the way. It was amazing just to sit and talk quietly to family with nobody else around you.
The calmness of the garden also encouraged conversation between us patients. After having dinner in the hospital, we’d come to the garden room for a coffee and debrief of the day’s events, and we’d support each other with whatever we had going on. The garden provided the space you need to have chats like that, as did the array of freshly baked cakes that we could all share.
One day, some friends came to see me and brought a guitar that I could play while lying in bed. I’d drifted away from music in the years before my injury, but here I started to reconnect with it, spending my evenings practicing in the pod. Before long, my friends and I played our first gig in the garden. There was so much great feedback – the patients loved it and for me, letting go on the guitar again felt like therapy.
We’ve since formed a group called Hightown Trad based on where we all went to school, and we’ve stayed in touch with Horatio’s Garden. We come back every now and then to do a wee gig, so I get to see how the garden’s evolved. Horatio’s is etched in my heart, and I will always enjoy coming back here.
As well as music, I threw myself into the creative workshops, even stuff I never thought I’d be into. Willow-weaving was one of my favourites – I made a basket, a swallow and a dragonfly. It was just good to put your mind to something and get lost in it. So, no matter what activity was on, I had a go at it.
Horatio’s Garden means so much to me – it’s a calm world amidst the chaos that’s going on in your own mind. I couldn’t imagine having to spend four months in hospital without it. I often wonder what the hospital was like before the garden, and how patients coped, because for me it was a huge help with reintegrating into the outside world, and gave me a real sense of freedom.
There’s a song that my friend and I have sung for years that has taken on a much greater meaning since my accident. It’s called ‘Chasing Cars’ and it has the lyrics ‘show me a garden that’s bursting into life’. Every time we sing it now, I just think of me, in the garden and all that’s happened. We daren’t look at each other when we’re playing it as it’s an emotional song for us both. It always reconnects me with my time in Horatio’s Garden.