Sue’s Story

Behind every scar there’s a story and this story is mine.

Where do you start when you’re telling a story about yourself? At the beginning or now? How far back do you go? What to include? What do you think people want to read about you?

I’m Susan Greenwood. I live in Bournemouth with my husband, two children and two dogs. I have worked for the NHS all my adult life, and currently work for NHS England and NHS Improvement.

How I ended up in this position always revokes the same responses from people: “Oh my goodness,” “That must have been awful,” “I was / my brother was / my friend was in London that day,” and my favourite: “You’re so brave and an inspiration.”

How on earth did I end up an inspiration for being me, and doing the most normal thing after a tragedy – simply living on and enjoying life?!

Some history: I was born in The Medway Towns, went to college, trained as an NHS Operating Department Practitioner. I lived and worked in Australia, came home and lived in Kent for approximately 5 minutes before realising I needed more from life. Got myself a job in London and off I went to start my new life.

The real story starts a couple of years later when I was 29 years old. I was the healthiest and fittest I had ever been in my life. Life was really very good.

Suddenly all of that changed when I was travelling to work one day.

On the 7 July 2005, I was caught up in the atrocities in London. 3 tube trains and 1 bus were used as targets by terrorists using explosive devices to maim and kill innocent people.

I was travelling on the Piccadilly Line in the first carriage of a tube train when Germaine Lindsay boarded. He told me I’d have a good day. To me, he was just another person in London trying to make conversation with a stranger – clearly he didn’t know that no one speaks to strangers on tubes in London!

200m into the tunnel between Kings Cross and Russel Square, he detonated his device. He killed 26 innocent victims, seriously injured lots more and placed mental scars on many forever more. I was merely two feet away from him at the time.

Describing an explosion is really hard. It’s a power, a force – it’s black, it’s quiet and so many other things I’ll never be able to adequately put into words.

I woke up on the floor of the tube. I must have lost consciousness for a few minutes but I don’t recall getting hit on the head or anything. The explosion must have simply knocked me out.

When I woke up it was deathly silent.

I instantly knew there had been an explosion. I knew it was a bomb. I knew it was Al-Qaeda. In London we’d been gearing up for emergency responses and plans as it was clear a terrorists attack would come. Never did I think for one moment that I would be injured instead of assisting.

My first memory is of thick smoke and looking for fire. Luckily, there was none. I knew my leg was so badly damaged it would need amputating – but having been in many trauma theatres, I also knew it wasn’t the end of the world.

I never feared for my life, because I always knew people would come to our rescue to save us in any way they could. These moments are the ones where healthcare, Police, Fire and other amazing teams use their incredible knowledge. They perform in exceptionally difficult circumstances in order to preserve life. I’m eternally grateful to those people – it’s why I joined the profession in the first place.

In short, my left leg had to be amputated above the knee. My right was severely damaged and required skin and fat grafts to cover the blast wounds. I had lacerations, cuts and burns all over my body, and many other injuries. I had around 30 operations in 1 year.

Despite all of this with true grit and determination and help of my husband, my friends, and my family I was able to move on quickly. I returned to life at work, at play and at sport in a short period of time. I credit this to those around me who ensured I was safe. My life has continued on its wonderful path of discovery and it’s often easy to forget what happened and how significant it was.

I became involved with The Scar Free Foundation (then The Healing Foundation) shortly after 7/7 Bombings when my plastic surgeon, Simon Withey, introduced me. I was asked to be a guest at an event for Scar Free. Simon explained that they were a charitable organisation that were undertaking vast research into scarless healing, and that their mission is to achieve that within a generation.

Clearly this was fascinating research to me! I understood that they needed people like me to show support, and explain to people why their mission is so valuable. I was delighted to offer my support as an Ambassador and continue to do so to this day.

You see, scars aren’t just about the physical ones that you see. They tell a whole story about someone’s unique journey through life. For individuals who have the scars, they are reminders of the worst (and sometimes the best) times of their life. They can be psychologically damaging and affect a person physically by their limitations. Some may fade but they don’t disappear. They’re brutal, they can hurt, they can make you embarrassed, upset, traumatised and so many other things in between.

My scars are varied: amputation, skin and fats grafts, surgical wounds and burns here and there. People don’t necessarily think of an amputation as being a ‘scar’ – but I have learnt that it is. It carries the same trauma and psychological effects as any burn or wound.

I never thought I was affected by the trauma until about 5 years ago. I always thought I was positive about my appearance, and I was part of Scar Free to support others and to support their research. I didn’t have hugely visible scars of my face, neck or arms, so I didn’t feel that my scars really warranted my attention.

What I hadn’t realised was that I hid my scars for years and years. I covered my false leg with foam and a prosthetic cover to look ‘normal’ – I never wore shorts or skirts unless they were long. I wore tights all the time. I was embarrassed. I still am some days. Those actions are not of someone who is comfortable in their own skin and with their own appearance. Those actions are deeply entrenched, and will continue to take years to unpick if ever going back to my pre-injury life.

I’m now coming to terms with all of that having been liberated by the London 2012 Paralympics. I have ‘freed’ my leg and myself from those demons to some extent. Now, I have a metal visible leg, I only wear tights when it’s cold and I flaunt my wounds freely.

However, wouldn’t it be wonderful if this wasn’t the case? If anyone that ever had a scar or wound could heal themselves – they could ‘grow’ a new leg like our dear salamander friends. Or they could know that any scarring was temporary and would faded away along with the memory of what happened. If there was a pill / treatment / genetic modification to fix all of this, I would have it in a heartbeat.

Please take the time to read my fellow Ambassadors’ journeys. Absorb a little bit of what life is like each day for those with scars. Try to imagine what it would be like for you or your family or friends to experience such scars. When you’ve done that, you’ll understand how important the research the Scar Free Foundation undertakes is, and you’ll understand why it needs your support.