Blood filled my mouth, I was blind to all around me. I landed in the gravel after I was catapulted from my still-running motorbike.
i reached for my wet-weather pants to form a tourniquet. I think my higher-self was looking after my tortured body.

I knew I was bleeding heavily from my femoral artery. Not being able to see. I would be glad later, that I couldn't see anything. My left leg was hanging off my fractured knee.
Being a nurse didn't help, except to try and staunch the bleeding. I could hear the back-wheel of my motorbike spinning as it lay in the gravel.

My quadriceps (above knee muscles) were torn off the fractured knee. It seemed like a dream until I heard the ambulance siren screaming, racing to the scene.

I ran slap-bang into the side of a Ford. Drunk driver said he didn't see me. Motorcyclists are known as temporary citizens. Pain? There was none. Feverishly the ambo's worked on me, I was told blood ran from under my body, down the asphalt. Lots of blood.

Taken to the local country hospital, clothes cut off, X Rays taken; discussions between doctors as to what to do? Back in the ambulance and I was sent to the city to a major hospital that could cope with horrific injuries.

My vision had improved, I was asked to sign a permission paper for a amputation. Shock set in. I 'died' on the operating table. Resuscitated to face to horrors to come.

Three months, thirteen operations and nine blood transfusions later, my leg was amputated. So much pain from useless operations to save it. Sixteen by twenty-four centimetres of skin stripped off my mangled leg. Why? To try to make it look better because the doctors were planning a two-year reconstruction of my leg, what was left of it. The pain of a skin graft was the worst pain I have every experienced in my life - gut wrenching horror as they peeled living tissue away. After the graft, the surgeon decided to take away the cotton wool padding to show his students! I was screaming. He finally gave me a shot of morphine and said, "tell me when you feel relief?" I said, "the damage is done thanks to your ego."

Time ticked slowly as I hung in traction, steel pins through my ankle to keep the leg still. Yes, it did hurt when someone poked the pins whilst testing my foot for feeling.
Eventually, the specialist said it would have to be amputated, no choice. Not enough bone to rebuild the leg. I sweated on the day I would leave this hospital of horrors. I still have a fear of even visiting hospitals, for any reason!