Many of us are here for months at a time. Having somewhere like this – somewhere peaceful, beautiful and human – makes all the difference.
There is always space for everyone.
My name is Lily. I’m 24 and I never expected to be an inpatient in hospital at this age – especially as a medical student.
Before everything happened, I was in my third year of medicine at Cardiff University. I came to medicine through graduate entry, after completing a degree in pharmacology. I realised pretty quickly that working in labs all the time wasn’t for me – I wanted patient contact, something more human. I loved living in Cardiff, spending time with my wonderful friends, and being part of a really active community.
Running was a big part of my life. I was a member of a running club and trained a few times a week. I loved going on adventures in the nearby valleys, heading to the beach, and back home in Jersey I used to surf a bit – not very well, but I loved it anyway. Being outdoors and being active was just part of who I was.
In January, everything changed. I was admitted to hospital with meningitis, which developed into septic shock. I was diagnosed with a rare and very serious condition -meningococcal septicaemia, caused by the meningitis B strain of bacteria. It affected my brain but also entered my bloodstream and caused widespread inflammation throughout my body. My blood vessels became leaky, and a lot of tissue became necrotic.
I spent a long time in intensive care and was very unstable for a while. I was transferred from the Heath hospital in Cardiff to Morriston Hospital in Swansea, where there is a specialist burns and plastics unit. I received incredible care there. Because of the damage to my arms and legs, it was decided that I would need amputations. Over five weeks, I underwent seven surgeries. I struggle to remember much of it, but my family have told me that it really pushed my limits.
Despite everything, I have been very lucky. Since those surgeries, I’ve made a good recovery. I am now at the spinal rehabilitation centre at Llandough Hospital, where I have access to an amazing multidisciplinary team: physiotherapists, occupational therapists, rehabilitation coaches and nursing staff who have helped me become much stronger. Recently, I tried getting in and out of a car for the first time and used a self-propelled wheelchair. My goal is to become body-powered in the future and continue building my strength.
Being in hospital as a patient has been surreal. I’d spent so much time in hospitals on placements, but suddenly the roles were reversed. If I do continue in healthcare, this experience will be invaluable. I now understand so much more about what it feels like to be a patient – what helps, what doesn’t – although I can honestly say my care has been overwhelmingly positive.
My time in ITU was probably harder for my friends and family than it was for me. I was heavily sedated and didn’t really know what was going on. They had to sit with me while I was in a coma, talk to me, and witness multiple cardiac arrests. Thankfully, I pulled through, but I know that must have been incredibly traumatic for them.
When the decision was made that I needed amputations, my emotional response was quite dulled. For my family and friends, though, it was huge. Seeing someone who had always been so active suddenly become an amputee must have been incredibly hard. Yet they have never once failed to be by my side. They came to visit constantly, supported me throughout, and we even managed to share moments of laughter and play games together in the ITU. It has been life-changing for all of us, and going forward everything will take more planning.
That loss of spontaneity is something I find difficult. Before, I might have booked a last-minute camping trip without a second thought. Now I need to think about accessibility, and so do my family and friends. I just hope that doesn’t feel like too much of a burden for them.
At Morriston, although the care was amazing, access to green space was really limited. I enjoyed the few trees I could see, but I missed being outdoors.
That’s why Horatio’s Garden has meant so much to me.
On my first day here, I came across the bridge into the garden and I literally gasped. I had imagined a small patch of grass with a few flowers, but instead I found this incredible oasis right alongside the hospital. Ever since, whenever a new friend or family member visits, I can’t wait to show them the garden.
It’s beautifully designed, with so many different spaces. You can find somewhere private for a quiet conversation or just sit alone and enjoy nature. The garden room is especially lovely, particularly as the weather gets colder. It’s a warm, welcoming place for tea, coffee, and creative activities. I’ve spent almost every afternoon out here since arriving and it has completely changed my experience of being in hospital.
I come out to the garden every day, rain or sunshine. There’s always shelter somewhere. I come with visitors, with other patients, or just on my own. At least twice a week, artists come in to run craft sessions. I’ve tried mosaics and printing workshops (things I’d never done before) and visitors are invited to join in too. I’ll come out for a warm drink, or stay later to eat with family.
My favourite things about the garden are the fresh air and the design. Being in the same four walls all day can feel suffocating, and here you can just breathe. I also love the variety of plants – some I’ve never even heard of – and the way the garden is full of little nooks and corners. Our gardener, Owen, has even taught me about gardening, which is something I never thought I’d enjoy!
Despite not having hands, I was encouraged to take part in mosaics using cuff straps, and I was genuinely able to get involved. It’s creative, enjoyable, and feels like rehab
without feeling like hard work. I’ve also loved the printing workshops, using leaves and flowers from the garden to create designs. I’ve watched musicians perform and even on days when it was pouring with rain, we found shelter and still had a wonderful time.
When I’m in the garden, I feel calm. Hospitals are busy and noisy, but out here it feels like everything goes quiet. Sometimes I just sit and watch the birds, look out over the meadow, and enjoy the sunset. Even though there’s a multi-storey car park nearby, the garden is designed so cleverly that you almost forget it’s there. It’s a place to reflect. Many of us here have been through traumatic experiences, and the garden gives us space to process that.
When family and friends visit, we often make tea, eat cake, play games, paint, or just talk for hours. Time passes so quickly here. One of my favourite memories is a rainy day spent indoors, listening to a steel band while silk painting, surrounded by families – that will always be a highlight.
Recently, when one of our friends was discharged, we organised some drinks, snacks and games in the garden. Even patients on bedrest were able to join us. It was sunny, relaxed, and such a lovely send-off.
The garden has also helped me connect with other patients. I pushed myself to start conversations and everyone has been so welcoming. I’ve loved getting to know people and their families, and I hope to stay in touch with many of them after leaving hospital.
Next, I’ll be discharged to a rehabilitation ward in Jersey. I’m not ready to return to university yet – because of skin grafts on my legs, lower limb rehab won’t start until sometime next year. Being at home will give me time to be with my family and work out how to do things around the house so I can eventually become independent.
I’m very fond of where I grew up in Jersey. It’s where my family are, and it’s such a special place – beautiful beaches, countryside, and a real sense of community. I’m really looking forward to going home. By the time I get back, it will be nearly a year since I last saw some of my family.
I would love to go back and finish my studies in Cardiff eventually too, but it’s uncertain. The medical school has been very supportive, and any decision will depend on occupational health assessments once I reach my full functional capacity. I’m also exploring roles in public health and sepsis awareness if medicine isn’t an option for me in the future.
If you have access to a Horatio’s Garden as an inpatient, I would absolutely encourage you to make the most of it. Fresh air can completely change your mindset during an incredibly stressful time. The garden’s been essential to my recovery and although it may not look like traditional physiotherapy or occupational therapy, hands-on activities like gardening and arts are hugely beneficial – physically and mentally.
For people like me and people with spinal injuries, it’s transformative. I dread to think what this experience would be like without access to this space.