“I know it’s bad... Your face says it all...”

When I came down I did so with a bump. It was only one floor.  I’ve jumped further than that. I landed square on my bum and I felt the impact go up through my backbone, passing from one vertebra to the next like a Mexican wave. The jolt went all the way from my coccyx to my neck until it couldn’t go any further. My body instantly went limp and I found myself lying on my back looking up at the stars.

I was completely conscious and completely confused. I was trying to get up and nothing would happen, my body simply wouldn’t respond to the commands I was giving it. There was no movement, no pain, no anything. The environment mirrored my situation; it was like being in a picture, everything still and quiet. There was no breeze, no rustle in the leaves, no movement, no noise, no anything. In that moment everything stopped, it was just the stars and me, looking back at each other in the warm, still, summer’s evening air.

After what could have only been seconds but felt like forever something broke the deadlock. Nelé was now looking down at me from the balcony. In the darkness I couldn’t see her face, just her silhouette and the light from inside the apartment shining through her blonde hair. She was shouting down to me “Steve are you ok?” As I lay there motionless, she started to panic. I explained I was ok and there was nothing to worry about: trying to keep her calm was now my focus. Still trying to get up but to no avail, I told her I was OK and had just winded myself when I landed. I couldn’t think of anything better to say. I knew it wasn’t the truth but I was trying to buy time until I knew more about the situation. How could I explain to her what was going on when I didn’t know myself? One thing I did know was that I’d done far worse than just winded myself…

I asked Nelé to call an ambulance; by now it was apparent to her that I needed more than just a moment to get my breath back. A crowd had started to gather. One or two people were now by my side and onlookers peered over their balconies to see what was going on below. I felt embarrassed at the situation and was craving privacy, but it didn’t come. Quite the opposite in fact. People were now not just looking on from a distance but trying to give what limited help they could. Consistently I was told not to move. “Stay still, try to relax” was the advice from the crowd. They said it time and again. Little did they know I was trying desperately to move any part of my being that would respond, the irony was my body had never been so relaxed. I could hear ambulance sirens approaching. How had I got into this situation? The unbelievable thing about all this was that around 8 hours ago I jumped out of a plane for fun with my mate Kelvin. Freefalling from 10,000 feet, I’d landed without issue.  Now I was lying helplessly after a ten- foot drop. It wasn’t long before the sirens stopped and I could see the flashing of blue lights strobing and bouncing off every wall and tree around me.  With the arrival of the ambulance drawing even more attention to my situation, the crowd grew larger.

It was strange lying there. I could see very little of what was happening around me because I could do nothing but stare skyward. Despite not being able to move and straining my peripheral vision, I felt very aware of every little thing going on. The sound of whispered conversation, the ambulance doors closing, feet shuffling. I was feeling claustrophobic, with a crowd of people surrounding me, towering over me like pine trees in a dense forest, whilst I lay at their feet motionless. It was humiliating. They were too close, and I couldn’t move away.  I felt powerless. I can remember the relief when the paramedics turned up and started clearing space.

Smoothly and quickly they took control of the situation. I could see, just on the edge of my vision, one paramedic speaking to Nelé. They were speaking in German, getting the background on what had happened; well, I’m assuming that’s what they were speaking about - it wasn’t the best time to be having a casual chat. Meanwhile the other paramedic was carrying out some primary checks and asking me questions in English: thank God he could speak English. Swiftly, the two of them got me in a neck collar, onto a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance.

It was strange. Now I was in safe hands I started to allow myself to worry and be scared. Until I was in the ambulance, although my ability to be in control of the situation was very limited, I’d maintained a clear head and kept my wits about me. Up to this point Id felt emasculated and embarrassed but not scared. I now had people with me I could trust so I let my defences down. I pride myself in my calm approach to situations but on this occasion, I’d even surpassed my own expectations. That said, this was about as testing it had got for me and now, in the safety of the ambulance, I didn’t need to be in control anymore. I was so thankful for the attitude of the paramedics, and their ability to speak my language. These two men had the skills to get the information they needed from me and reassure me at the same time. They asked me what I’d eaten and drank. They wanted to know the details of what happened and made notes, all while hooking me up to machines and taking my vitals. Their attitude was comforting and gentle. They kept me informed, calm and in good spirits at the same time. The empathy and understanding they showed was amazing, it was like I was their first ever emergency call-out. There was no complacency or sense that they were just going through the motions. It was as if I was the only person they had ever been called out to. I didn’t realise it at the time, but this was a huge communication skills lesson for me and it wasn’t going to be the only one of the night.

We arrived at the hospital and as the ambulance doors opened, I felt myself become overwhelmed. It was now starting to dawn on me what was happening. I’ve seen enough TV to know that when you can’t move your legs and the paramedics put a neck brace on you the outlook is not too bright. It’s funny how quickly things can change and what a crazy 20 minutes it had been. I knew this next part of the evening was going to be the hardest. I wasn’t here for any other reason than I needed to be. Paramedics had taken me to hospital because I needed help. Now, now I was going to find out just how bad that help was needed.

I was living completely in the moment; I had no concerns for anything in the past or in the future. Finding out what was going on and happening right now was the only thing on mind. What is happening? Why can’t I move?

Hospital medical staff, quite a squad of them as I recall, greeted us on arrival. There was a very obvious gear change at this point and the tempo went up. People were still calm but it was the number of them that was worrying me, and that wasn’t the only thing. Everyone started speaking to each other in German. Obviously that makes sense, we’re in Köln after all, but unlike in the ambulance I now had no clue what was being said, they were too busy to translate.

This is when I got my second lesson in communication; never underestimate your body language and how much a look can give away. As the paramedics passed over information to the doctors and nurses, I watched them look at their notes, at each other and at me. The long holds their eyes had on mine whilst they listened to each other were dead giveaways to the severity of the situation. The glances they gave each other: the raised eyebrows, the deadpan nods, their shoulders, the OKs that didn’t mean OK at all, they all told me a story. Not being able to understand their words didn’t mean I couldn’t understand what was going on and what they were thinking. It was like their face and body movements were magnified and highlighted because of the lack of verbal communication I could understand.

Since that night I’ve been more aware of body language, both mine and that of others. Never underestimate how much your every emotion can be read by how you hold yourself. That gentle nod that means you are taking something on board as opposed to agreeing with what’s being said are both nods. That being said, the pace, vigor, energy and length of a nod all tell their own story. Your eyes have the ability to explain more than any words ever can.

Being aware of the signals you give off can make a difference in your ability to win people over, keep the peace or even let a young man know how serious an injury he has. Doctors saved my life that night, no doubt about it. What they didn’t realise is they were also the ones that told me it needed saving.