My name is Lynn and I am 62 years old. I’ve spent much of my life as a computer programmer with British Airways. I spent 11 years of coding and problem-solving, but my real joy came later when my two sons were born. I took a career break to raise them, and eventually I became a librarian at the National Police Library. I enjoyed curating information, helping others find what they needed. In 2016, I took redundancy, and since then, I’ve spent countless hours volunteering at church, working with mothers and babies, serving in cafes, helping at charity shops, and distributing food at food banks. I’ve always been drawn toward service.
Everything changed on April 30th of 2023. I was out for a walk near my home in North Hampshire, in the beautiful countryside that I love so much. I slipped and fell, unaware that a long-standing issue with protruding disks in my neck would surface in such a catastrophic way. In that moment, in the blink of an eye, I was rendered paralysed from my injury at the C4 level. The doctors told me I have an incomplete injury, with an AISA score of D. Life as I knew it shattered in an instant.
When I first arrived at Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital, I spent six weeks in a fog, focused solely on day-to-day survival. The gravity of my situation loomed too large, and I couldn’t bear to think what the future held. Each day felt like an uphill battle, but then I discovered Horatio’s Garden, a serene space that welcomed me with open arms. The vibrant colors of the flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze filled my heart with a sense of calm that I hadn’t felt in ages.
In that garden, I found more than just a pretty view; I found a place of healing. The laughter of fellow patients, shared stories, and nature wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket, reminding me that I was not isolated in my journey. Every visit into the gardens felt like a move forward away from my injury, a moment where my worries could drift away alongside the butterflies that danced among the blossoms.
The garden became my refuge, a space where hope could take root. I began to see beauty in the smallest details; the way the sunlight filtered through leaves, illuminating new paths, and how each flower, despite its challenges, managed to bloom. I learned to appreciate the present moment, to breathe deeply, and to soak up the joy of simple pleasures. The gardens seemed to make the unbearable things bearable.
I really enjoyed the activities that took place in the gardens, for instance, the gardening that I was able to do with my level of hand activity. I also matched with a volunteer who had similar interests to me, meaning we often had lots of long interesting conversations that I actively looked forward to having. I also got to try sewing, which I hadn’t tried since school. The activity organiser had endless patience with me, and now I have taken home a cushion that I sewed myself!
Transitioning back home was both exciting but also a source of anxiety. I was eager to see my family and rekindle those day-to-day rhythms we’ve missed. Yet, the reality of the changes in our home loomed large. We would have to adapt to a new way of life. Now, in present day, I am fortunate that I have regained a lot of movement throughout my body. I can walk around the house with my Zimmer frame, and I can help out with practical tasks like cooking. I feel grateful for this and the life I have built up since going through such a traumatic event.
Reflecting on my time in the hospital, I really came to understand the power of community. Visitors from my church, friends, and even strangers reached out, offering their hands and hearts. Each visit, each message, reminded me that I am not alone in this journey. There’s a striking beauty in vulnerability; by opening up about my struggles, I’ve found others willing to share theirs. We created connections based on empathy and mutual understanding that I never expected. Without the gardens, the spaces where these moments could take place, the moments of peace I found during life’s most toughest challenge would not have been able to take place.
The creative workshops Lynn mentions are part of the charity’s Arts Programme, generously supported by Arts Council England.
