Impaled by a tree!
The branch went straight through his leg!
Saturday 2nd August 2008
If there's one thing kids love, it's playing with their mates, and our four were no different. Their playground was a field behind our house, and no one enjoyed running around and letting off steam more than 7-year-old Billy. When he was born, I was over the moon. I already had three daughters, Jade, now 13, Coral, 12, and Katie, 9. Billy made the family complete. And boy, was he different.
While my girls loved cuddly toys and anything pink, Billy was a real lad, with endless energy. He was always falling off his bike or bumping his head. It was so bad, I never went anywhere without a supply of Spiderman plasters, just in case! He certainly kept us on our toes. So when I'd washed up and tidied around after dinner on 24 March 2008, I couldn't believe how quiet the house was.
'Where are the kids?' I asked my boyfriend, Mark Sheridan, 37,
as we settled down on the settee to watch Emmerdale.
'Playing out the back,' he said.
'Brilliant,' I smiled. I could watch my favourite soap in peace.
Only, minutes later, Katie, came running in.
'Our Billy's stuck up a tree!' she panted. 'He can't get himself down.'
Mark shot me a knowing look, and I rolled my eyes.
'I'll see what he's up to,' Mark said, grabbing his jacket.
I waited by the front door, ready to give Billy a piece of my mind. But the next thing I knew, the girls came running up the street, all in floods of tears.
'What's happened?' I gasped.
But they ran straight into the house, crying too hard for me to make out what they were saying. Then I heard sirens in the distance, and my heart thundered. Where was Billy? I had to find out. While my neighbour, Christine, looked after the girls, I legged it round the corner to the field. When I got there, I couldn't believe my eyes.
Billy was six feet up a tree, screaming and crying. There was a fire engine, a police car, two ambulances and a crowd of people watching. Mark and his cousin, John Robinson, 38, had climbed up near Billy and were trying to calm him down. But why was Billy stuck? Was he wedged in between the branch and the tree trunk?
'Mummy's here!' I shouted, but he didn't seem to hear me.
'Billy's been impaled on a branch,' said a firefighter, hurrying over. 'It could be serious.'
What?! Peering closer, I could see he wasn't just wedged or scared to move. A massive branch had speared his right thigh to the tree. He must have fallen onto it when he'd been climbing.
I watched, helpless, as Billy was given gas and air for the pain, and the fire brigade set about finding the best way to free him. Eventually, they used chainsaws to cut the branch off the tree.
'You'll soon be down!' I shouted.
But inside, I felt frantic when Billy screamed as the saws shook the tree and the branch dug deeper into his leg. Mark's nephew, Craig Hirst, 22, was standing at the bottom of the tree with me.
'I'll give you a fiver if you're brave, Billy,' he promised.
It took a total of two hours before Billy was finally cut free and gently laid on a stretcher. Once he was down on the ground, I rushed over to him and held his hand.
'You're being very brave,' I told him, trying not to look at the
branch sticking out of his leg.
Billy didn't say a word. He was shaking with shock. In the ambulance, I had to sit in the front while the paramedics worked on Billy in the back.
'You'll be all right, love!' I yelled, hoping he could hear me above the din. 'I promise…'
As they rushed us to Pinderfields General Hospital in Wakefield, Mark followed in the car. By the time we were led to a private room, our families had arrived, too.
'We're taking Billy to theatre to remove the branch,' a doctor told us.
'How bad is it?' I asked, terrified.
'We'll have to wait and see,' he said.
For the next two hours, we paced up and down the hallway, praying our little Billy would be OK. But what if his leg was permanently damaged? Or what if he couldn't walk afterwards?
I don't think I've ever been more worried in my entire life.When the doctor arrived, we all descended on him.
'Billy's been a lucky boy,' he smiled. 'The branch was very deep and just missed a major artery in his leg. He could have bled to death, but he's going to be fine.'
'Thank God,' I gasped.
The surgeons had cut the wound open even more to get the branch out, before closing it up with 18 stitches. Billy was so exhausted, he slept through the whole of the next day. Mark and I sat by his bedside, stroking his hair and praying he wouldn't be in agony when he woke. But when he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he did was smile.
'Craig's giving me a fiver,' he said.
'That's right,' Mark laughed.
And two months on, if it weren't for the scar down his thigh, you wouldn't know he'd been hurt. He gets into as much trouble as ever. Just a couple of weeks ago, he was in tears again, after taking a tumble off his bike. But it doesn't drive me mad any more. In fact, I wouldn't have him any other way, because I know how lucky I am to have him at all.