Gillian Mk2

About the Book

Suddenly, in 1994, the author stopped taking life for granted. When her existence filled with sunshine, parties and good times came to an end. A near fatal car crash left her comatose for six weeks; Gillian doesn’t know what happened on that night and ‘never will’. ‘Gillian Mk2’ chronicles her feisty determination to regain independence in a society where she was invisible. We follow her trek for the first four years. From hospitals, doctors, falls, nurses onto more hospitals, specialists, falls, attitudes, patients… Gillian Firth is lucky, clearly her family adore her, she lives to tell the tale and does so with blunt honesty. She knew nothing and only remembered she smoked because Pathetic bought her cigarettes, into the hospital ironically, her mum went mad. A Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) is serious, life-changing, but you laugh out loud, then cry and laugh again, as we listen to Gillian speaking. Watch how she improves, cringe or agree with her observations, feel the anger and frustration, be embarrassed by comments and reactions. This author will be remembered for her flippant, but serious, heart rending yet hilarious, kick in the teeth, that’s what it is. Funny, factual and inspirational… my eyes are open.

About the Author

It was going too well, brilliant job, new marriage, and sunny-money with choices, then it all went horribly wrong. Six quiet weeks later, I Gillian Mk2 woke up, and the ‘second life’ began. My mum was present at this birth too, she swears I heard her wailing ‘your brother too’ (he might deny this). I had regressed to new-born mentality, vocally displaying extremes in temperament; medical minds make educated noises but can only guess. The doctors said ‘two years’ the cleaner told mum ‘she be okay, just a leedle thing wrong’. Just saying. A Pathetic husband ‘found someone else’ so, alone with a second-hand computer the cathartic book happened by chance. Readers stop me or write ‘I’ve got a Pathetic at home’, tell me they ‘had no idea’ what was wrong with me, and then recount the incident that made them laugh. So writing became a main focus, in need of direction, my circumstances influence a style of narration that is easier than walking, and people get something from a collection of words. TBI victims, their families, carers and friends understand. It can happen to anybody. The readers’ comments remain my spur, and there were too many to be patronising.