‘I went out to buy some chips and my life changed for ever’

Hannah Mcwann may seem like an ‘ordinary’ mum. She supports Liverpool FC, enjoys board games like Scrabble and loves nothing more than a Sunday Roast with her family gathered round the table. But her achievements of late can only be described as extraordinary.

Hannah, 46, has walked 1,000 steps to raise money for injured people in Gaza. Each step took a huge amount of mental and physical strength for the mum-of-four, who has lived with a brain injury since a catastrophic bus crash in 2017.

‘I’ve grown up with Palestine in my heart,’ Hannah, wearing a red and white keffiyeh, tells Metro from her home in London. Her husband, Mostahfiz, 49, sits at her side. Hannah continues: ‘There are people there [in Gaza] like me with traumatic brain injuries, but they do not have the NHS, they do not have the brilliant surgeons I had.’

At 11.08am on December 1, 2017, Hannah’s life changed in an instant when she was hit by a bus on a zebra crossing near her home in Kingston. She can’t recall the accident, but her husband remembers that day in detail. 

‘I was ill and hadn’t gone to work,’ Mostahfiz, a former primary school teacher, tells Metro.

‘Hannah was going to pick up our youngest son, Zayd, from nursery and said she’d pop to Sainsbury’s on her way back to get some frozen chips. I waited quite a while, but she didn’t come home. I thought she might have bumped into a neighbour and got chatting, but then the nursery called and said no-one had arrived to pick up Zayd.’

Mostahfiz dashed out of the house and encountered a police officer on his way out, just five minutes from the crash scene.

‘He asked if I knew Hannah and I said “yes, I’m her husband”,’ Mostahfiz  recalls.

‘I learned she’d been airlifted to St George’s Hospital in Tooting. Apparently, Hannah had actually got up after she was hit and walked round in a dazed state. When paramedics arrived they saw blood in her eyes and ears and induced her into a coma straight away as they knew she had a brain injury. By the time I got to the hospital, she was already in surgery.’

‘My head was like a swollen balloon’

In a blog entry, Hannah mentions  an early visit from her then ten-year-old daughter, Sara, and her sons Zayd, 3, Owais, 5 and Salahaddin, 12 as retold to her by her husband. She writes: ‘My daughter came but could only manage five minutes of looking at me,’ Hannah wrote. ‘Who could blame her, I looked like Frankenstein. My head was like a swollen balloon. My husband waited a week till my little boys came, by then my face was not so swollen. Owais was mesmerised by all the wires linked to me and the constant numbers on my monitor screen. A wonderful nurse named Ian spent 30 minutes explaining each wire and why I needed it. This really reassured him [Owais] that I was in capable hands. A small deed can go so far.’

Hannah was operated on in what’s known as ‘the golden hour’, the short window after a severe brain injury during which immediate medical attention increases the likelihood of survival. At hospital, doctors removed the right side of Hannah’s skull to allow room for her brain to swell and trapped blood to drain away. Mohstafiz was warned she might not live through the next 72 hours.

Hannah, then 39, did survive, albeit with a Traumatic Brain Injury. As she ‘slept’ in her coma, her family was at her side; her mother cut her nails and Mostahfiz played some of their favorite classical music – such as the Lord of the Rings soundtrack.

She woke in March 2018, four months after the bus crash, and was thrust into a new world, one where she could not talk and could barely move.

A few months later, Hannah was moved to the Royal Hospital for Neuro-disability in south-west London where she worked to regain the skills she lost. She had to suck cola bottles through a muslin cloth to relearn how to chew and use a whiteboard and pen to communicate.

In a touching moment caught on camera, Hannah wrote ‘I will make dua for you’ [I will pray for you] for her eldest son, Salahaddin, when he had exams approaching. When, on her third try, her son could understand her scrawled writing, she laughed and burst into tears – simply overcome with emotion. 

‘My biggest achievement is just being able to talk,’ Hannah, a former history teacher, says.

‘I couldn’t speak at all for about three years. My goal was always to get a little independence. And that started with paper and pen in the hospital. I had lost dexterity in my hand so they [my family and nurses] had to decipher things. When they did understand me, I would cry.’

Hannah speaks slowly now due to a condition called dysarthia which weakens her mouth muscles. It also makes her tone of voice lower than before the accident. Mostahfiz sits by her side and gently translates any answers that are harder to decipher. 

However, Hannah still has a voice and on October 26, she used it to support people in Gaza with her ‘walk 1,000 steps’ fundraiser. Hannah completed the steps in her kitchen with the help of her family and her carers Edel and Blessing. 

‘It was all thanks to my daughter,’ Hannah says. ‘She came from school and I told her I had walked 100 steps. She laughed at me, not in a mean way, and said the average number of steps a day for a “normal” person was 1,500. And that was the “Eureka” moment and I realised I could walk to raise money for people in Gaza.’

Initially, Hannah wondered if she’d even reach £1,000. But the donations flooded in and her current total stands at £28,000. 

Money raised will go to Human Appeal’s Gaza Emergency Appeal and help pay for crutches, wheelchairs and medical support for people who have lost limbs or suffered brain injuries during the conflict. 

‘Hannah has done so much with what people see as “limitations.”,’ Mostahfiz says proudly. ‘She has so much more life to give and people to inspire. It’s amazing.’

Moving forward, Hannah is determined to keep working to improve her speech and mobility. That strong desire to overcome challenges has always been part of her; as a teenager she sat her Maths GCSE three times to obtain a pass. 

There are moments where the mum-of-four feels peace with her new normal; such as when the family cooks together and she directs her husband and children around the kitchen.

‘I hope and pray one day I shall bloom’

In a blog post, Hannah explained how she now appreciates the simple things in life far more.

She wrote: ‘My daughter last year planted daffodils in a pot. It is sheer joy watching bulbs shoot up, this is not something Hannah pre accident could ever enjoy. Every day as I see them spout more and more, I think about my own condition. Every day I am slowly recovering, you can’t force the daffodils to flower in November, you can help them by watering them, but when the time is right they shall flower. I hope and pray one day I shall bloom , if only to help others through their trials.’

In her online blog, Hannah details the chapters of her rehab and recovery to give hope to others. Meanwhile Mostahfiz, a keen wildlife photographer, enjoys dawn walks around Richmond Park and watches roaming deer and swooping birds. He’s had to give  up his job as a primary school teacher to care for Hannah, but is now embarking on a new career as a photographer. 

Hannah continues: ‘The support from my husband has been  tremendous. He lifted me up when I was very very down and has supported me. And my children, they are my joy. 

‘My faith also gives me my hope, I don’t know where I’d be without it. A lot of time [when you are disabled] you can feel alone, but I have my link with God, so I never feel alone.

‘There is always hope, even when everything feels dark. You might have to look hard, but there is always light at the end, you just have to be patient.’

To donate to Hannah’s fundraiser, click here

To follow Hannah’s blog, click here

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