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Author Topic: Boxer Jerome Wilson explains what a coma feels like - great read  (Read 600 times)
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« on: January 19, 2017, 10:40:39 AM »

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/men/active/mens-health/11885638/Jerome-Wilson-What-its-like-to-recover-from-a-serious-brain-trauma.html

On 12 September 2014, in his 11th professional fight, light welterweight prospect Jerome 'Wipeout' Wilson was knocked out in the sixth round of his bout against Serge Ambomo. He had to be stretchered from the ring.

Wilson had suffered a subdural haemotoma - the most common fatal or near-fatal injury that afflicts fighters. He spent ten days comatose, and then many more trying to knit his life back together, with a quarter of his skull missing.

Here, he describes the experience of waking up from that perilous coma ...



Emerging from a coma, I soon found out, is a bit like being born. People have the wrong idea. They think it’s like being asleep, then waking up, but I wouldn’t describe it that way at all.

I remember at some point hearing my sisters Nyeesha and Chanelle talking to me.

“Wake up Jerome, wake up. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

I squeezed.

“He’s not responding. He can’t hear.”

I don’t know how much time passed. The next voice I heard was Dad’s.

“I love you, son.” He was saying. “I love you. Talk to me. Say something.”

It sent a jolt of fear through my chest. Dad was dead.

I slowly became aware of hands on my body, touching me on the face and the most private of places. Was I with the angels? I opened my eyes, but it was as if I hadn’t.

Darkness became whiteness, but there was nothing there. I closed them again and it all faded away.

The next time I sensed a presence, it was my Michelle’s, my girlfriend. She was crying.

“Please come back to me.” She was saying. “We need you! Please!”

Our baby! She was carrying our baby! The memory was like a switch being flicked, pumping electricity up my spine. I opened my eyes. Everything was white and blurred. My forehead shot through with pain. I closed them again.

Nearby a small bird flew repeatedly into a window. I couldn’t see it, I just knew. The tapping of its beak and the fluttering of little wings made a rhythm. It slowed. The bird fell to the ground and lay still. Its guts were full of plastic. I was gone again.

At the beginning, that’s how it was. In and out, out and in, there was little difference between unconsciousness and alertness, between death and near-death.

At one point I opened my eyes a crack and thought I saw Michelle, pale, frowning, looking down at me and holding my hand. I couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Everything was confusion. I felt heavy. It was as though my head had rocks on it. Among the fuzzy light and shapes there was an atmosphere of menace. Was I in trouble?

Another time I saw a TV screen with a picture of my daughter attached to it. Little Serenity, she had been at the show. I wanted to reach out and stroke the photo but I couldn’t move at all, not even a finger.

I don’t know what order these things happened in, but later I heard Michelle speak again.

“I won’t leave you Jerome. I won’t leave you. You’ve had an accident my love. You’re in hospital.” She gripped my hand.

“Hospital?” I thought, “I don’t want to be in hospital. I’ve got things to do.”

Another time I felt that Mum was there.

“I love you son,” she was saying to me. “Talk. Say mum” and then very slowly, “say – I – love – you - mum.”

I thought I said it, but no sound came out. She kept on pestering me.

“Say you love me Jerome. Speak to your mum.”

Mum had been at the show too. The show?

Something connected in my head. I had been in a fight.

I didn’t want to think about fighting.



I realised there were tubes going in and out of my mouth and nose. A period of time passed which was unclear to me. People around me began to respond when I tried to speak. This told me I must at least be making sounds. None of it seemed real.

It was warm on the bed and I felt light, nearly formless, like I could just float away. I lay there having thoughts I couldn’t express. Visitors came in I didn’t even recognise. I tried to acknowledge them. I wanted them to feel good.

I had the need to go to the toilet, but it was hard to control. I felt sickened and ashamed of myself. I had bowel movements, and felt it under me on the bed, clinging to my backside and the tops of my legs. I passed urine and felt it dribble over my thighs or stomach. It was even happening with other people in the room. In my mind, it reconnected me to myself as a tiny baby, like a circle of life interrupted and returned to the start.

I waited for help, blind and defenceless. No-one seemed to arrive.

“How long can this last?” I thought.

Blurred figures in white came to brush my teeth. They gave me bed baths and cleaned up my mess. Michelle would sit for ages, talk to me and cream my skin.

It all felt wrong but I couldn’t do anything about it. Having a stranger wipe your arse is humiliating.

Memories came back steadily, but I understood nothing. It was simple, I thought. I had gone insane.

After a while my vision gained more definition, but everything was split. I’d look at a person and it was like they had four heads. Another period of time passed and an Indian nurse with a kindly voice told me that I had to have an X-ray. I still didn't know what was wrong.

Then about five nurses came flying in like a SWAT team and took me off for the scan. They were shouting and bantering, pushing my hospital bed out of the ward and into the lift. It was crashing into the walls and making all kinds of noise. I was frightened.

We must have been in the X-Ray room for about 10 minutes. When it was done they crashed and banged around again and wheeled me back up. They were all laughing.



Later on that day, the Indian nurse came back.

“It’s the annual staff party tonight.” She said. “The medical team are all going out. There will only be a small cover crew on duty. But you’re quite stable now, so you should be OK.”

I was shocked by what she was saying. Is that normal for hospital workers? But there was nothing I could do.

The Indian nurse came again later. She had a lot of make-up on. She looked a bit like a cartoon.

“Would you like to come with us?” she asked. She smelled like she had been drinking already.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t understand. Was she making fun? She laughed and said they’d be back when the clubs had closed, to continue the party at the hospital.

For hours the ward was deadly quiet and I was alone in the dark. Sometimes I heard creaks or pitter-patter sounds like there were animals around. I felt very hot.

Sure enough, the staff stuck to their word and came back late. They had loads of booze. They fed me drinks through my feeding tubes danced around my bed. Some started jumping about, waving their hands, shouting. I had no idea what was going on.

The next morning I woke up on the floor. I lay there for a long while. It was uncomfortable. Eventually a doctor came in. For the first time since the fight I found I was able to communicate with someone and be understood.

I asked the doctor how I had fallen out of my bed. He looked at me seriously, but with a friendly expression.

“You didn’t fall out of bed Jerome.” He said.

I looked around. I was lying back on the bed, but he hadn’t lifted me up or put me in it. It was puzzling.

“Do you have any idea why you are here?” He asked.

“No not really.” I replied.

“You had a fight that ended very badly. You've had a serious brain injury and been through a major operation to save your life.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, Jerome. Really. You’ve only just come out of a ten day coma.”

“Wow.” I thought to myself.

“A feature of the sort of injury you have received is that the mind can play tricks on you. It’s not an easy thing to predict, all patients are different, but as people recover from this kind of trauma some report that their senses deceive them. You might see, hear or feel things which are not really there. It can be difficult to deal with, I know, but it should settle down in time.”

I allowed this piece of information to sink in. It had pretty terrifying implications.

“So did all the nurses go out clubbing last night?” I asked.

He laughed.

“I shouldn’t have thought so, no.”

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LiveFight
« on: January 19, 2017, 10:40:39 AM »

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Red
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« Reply #1 on: January 19, 2017, 10:41:46 AM »



The guy has a book out, it has really good reviews.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wiped-Out-Jerome-Wilson-Story/dp/1785310585
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jimjack
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« Reply #2 on: January 19, 2017, 11:17:29 AM »

Amazing read that.
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Forest
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« Reply #3 on: January 19, 2017, 09:55:24 PM »

Read the book - it's completely bonkers, but not in a bad way. It was a bit difficult to realise what was real and imagined but a really interesting insight into the fella's mind while he was under. Enjoyed it and was glad to see he's doing so well lately.
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Vlad The Impaler
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« Reply #4 on: January 21, 2017, 05:03:24 PM »

That is some read that.
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LiveFight
« Reply #4 on: January 21, 2017, 05:03:24 PM »

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