It wasn't supposed to be like this
In 2018 I underwent what was meant to be a routine medical procedure.
I'd never had the procedure before. In fact, I'd never even had a general anaesthetic. I remember leaving work the night before telling a colleague how nervous I was. She smiled and said, "If you don't have it done, that could be worse."
She was right.
Just not in the way either of us imagined.
On 20 November 2018 the procedure was performed. I woke up, was given some apple juice and shortly afterwards everything changed.
I was sent home feeling unwell. It wasn't the sort of pain where you could point to one spot and say, "It hurts here." I just knew something wasn't right.
Looking back, it was one of those Swiss cheese moments. A series of small events and decisions aligned in exactly the wrong way, allowing a catastrophic outcome.
The result was five weeks in intensive care.
Multiple major operation.
More than six months of physical recovery.
The physical recovery eventually came.
The mental recovery is different.
I don't think you ever completely return to the person you were before a life-changing event.
At 55, I was working towards retirement, planning holidays and looking forward to the next stage of life. Suddenly everything stopped.
I was later told that had I remained at home for another two days, I probably wouldn't have survived.
Ironically, I think I was the fortunate one.
My family carried the fear, the uncertainty and the waiting. Trauma doesn't only happen to the person lying in the hospital bed. It ripples through everyone who loves them.
The years that followed weren't what I'd planned.
There was uncertainty.
A lengthy legal process that wasn't resolved until 2023.
Returning to work, but finding that the traditional Monday-to-Friday career no longer felt right.
Then COVID arrived, changing the way we all worked and lived.
Along the way I explored different paths—work health and safety, human resources and factual investigations.
Then, in 2026, I found myself back at university.
This time, studying counselling.
Not because my original plans failed.
But because my direction changed.
I often describe what happened to me as Positive Traumatic Growth.
Sometimes life's greatest challenges don't simply leave scars.
They reshape our priorities.
They deepen our compassion.
They quietly point us towards work we were never expecting to do.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
But I'm okay with that now.
In many ways, it's exactly where I was meant to end up.
