One moment I was celebrating a friend’s birthday, and the next my life changed forever. I didn’t go into hospital expecting to stay for nearly a year, or to relearn what “normal” even meant. But after a split-second accident left me with a spinal injury, I found myself facing a future I’d never imagined — one shaped by uncertainty, patience, and the small moments that slowly helped me find stability again.
Before my accident, I was living a pretty ordinary life. I was 22 working as a manager at Taco Bell in Newport. I went to the gym, spent time with friends, and travelled to see my girlfriend while she was studying at Swansea University. I had plans. We were talking about moving in together once she finished university, and everything felt straightforward.
On October 4th last year, everything changed. We were celebrating with my friend at an adult ball pit. Someone pulled me backwards while we were messing around, and I dislocated my C4 and C5 vertebrae. I had surgery the next day to fuse the bones, and then I was taken into ICU.
I spent around nine days in intensive care. I was heavily medicated, barely sleeping, and nothing felt real. My head was foggy and everything around me felt blurred. It took over a week before I had anything close to a proper night’s sleep. When I moved onto the ward and the medication was reduced, things slowly began to make more sense. Because I’d already been in hospital for so long, it almost felt like I’d settled into a completely different life.
I’ve been in Llandough Hospital since November 2024; that length of time in hospital changes you At first, it’s incredibly hard. You don’t know the people caring for you, you don’t understand what’s happening, and your entire daily routine is turned upside down. Nothing feels familiar.
Spending Christmas in hospital was especially tough. Waking up there without the usual excitement or comfort of home was hard. ,The nurses did their best to make the day special, and as the afternoon went on, things started to feel lighter. My family came to visit and at first, we were in a small room on the ward. Then we realised the garden room was empty. We moved everything out there and stayed all evening. We played board games, ate pizza, shared snacks. For a few hours, it felt almost normal – something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I’ve lived in Newport my entire life, so travelling to Llandough isn’t easy, especially with constant roadworks in Cardiff. Still, my family try to visit two or three times a week. My girlfriend is back in Newport, and my grandparents live in the Valleys. Knowing they make the effort to be here means everything.
My injury affected everyone around me, especially at the beginning. My girlfriend and I went from planning our future together to suddenly not knowing anything at all. At first, I couldn’t move anything from the neck down. Over time, certain muscles have started to come back. I’ve regained movement in my arms and a bit more feeling, which has helped all of us begin to adapt to a new way of living.
When I first arrived at Llandough, I was told about the garden, but I was on bedrest, and I didn’t feel comfortable going outside. As my mobility improved and I began using a chair, I came out just to take a look. I met volunteers and staff, and everyone was welcoming.
Once I received my powered chair, the garden became part of my daily routine. I spend most days there, talking to other patients, finding peace and quiet, and feeling a sense of normality away from the ward.
The garden gives me space — somewhere to relax, think, and just be. When my family visit, it’s a place where we can chat, laugh, and spend time together away from the clinical environment of the ward. They bring food, help me get set up with my gaming, and we just sit together for a while.
I’ve also taken part in arts workshops in the garden. I can’t always do lots of gardening because my hand mobility is limited, but I’ve tried willow weaving, printing, and other creative activities. These workshops have helped improve my motor skills, challenge me in different ways, and give me something meaningful to focus on. I’ve even been able to make things to give to family and friends.
In the evenings, I often go to the garden room. It’s quiet, you can’t hear the ward, and it gives my mind a chance to settle. Sometimes it’s just watching an episode of a show, but that sense of calm makes a big difference.
The garden holds so many memories for me — sharing small bits of news with my family, hearing what’s been happening at home, and enjoying simple conversations. Those moments of normality mean more than people realise.
Soon, I’ll be repatriated to a hospital closer to home — the Royal Gwent. It won’t have the same facilities as Llandough, which is difficult, so I’m trying to make the most of my time here. After that, I’ll transition into the community and wait for housing to become available. I’m hoping to move in with my girlfriend. I’m excited, but nervous too. It’s not how we imagined things would be, but it’s still a future we’re looking forward to.
The garden has helped me make the most out of a bad situation. It’s a space away from the ward where I can relax, process what’s happened, and feel more comfortable in myself. If anyone says a garden doesn’t help with rehabilitation, I completely disagree. It’s helped me focus on myself, come to terms with my injury, and communicate in a positive way.
It’s been a huge part of getting me through this.