Saturday the 6th of January 2024 started like any other day:

I was spending time at my partner’s home and we were watching Youtube. I’d taken some Cocodamol to help with the pain. We’d just settled down to have a bite to eat for lunch when all of a sudden I had a strange feeling come over me. It was like a cold, wet feeling inside my head, and I immediately felt a little… ‘odd’. Now, codeine has been known to make me feel a bit space cadet in the past, and I’d not taken any for a few days. So I figured it was just related to that. I told my partner that I felt odd, and they agreed that this was probably due to the co-codamol. So we waited out the four hours.

Now, I must stress, at this point, my only symptoms were mild confusion, especially when it came to my right hand, and some slowness in my speech.

Four hours came and went – I spent it entirely playing Animal Crossing. I was slow, I felt detached, but I could play. Himself kept checking on me, whilst playing quietly on the PC a few feet away. I didn’t feel better. They kept asking me if I wanted to call 111 and I said no, I’d be ok. I had a few moments during the day, where I wanted a drink but couldn’t work out how to pick the cup up, or had gone to the loo only to be confused on how to use the paper to clean myself. Eventually, I said I wanted to go to bed, I was super tired and I just hoped that when I woke up it was all over.

Spoiler: It wasn’t.

I woke up the following morning and whilst I think I thought I felt a little better initially, it became clear that things weren’t really improved. Himself really pushed that if I didn’t feel right and I was worried, I should call 111 or something.

We opted for the walk-in centre locally. I presented myself at the reception, where I’m sure I was a bumbling idiot being only able to say ‘I’m confused and my arm feels weird’. She tells me to sit down, and I notice that the advertised wait is 2 hours. I sent himself away as the waiting area was heaving. The receptionist comes over a few moments later and says she’s marked me as urgent due to being concerned, so hopefully I shouldn’t have to wait too long. I didn’t. I was the next patient.

The doctor did all manner of tests, including urine and basic neurofunction tests. I passed them all. He suggested that I go to A&E though as they would have access to more tests such as imaging and blood, and wrote me a referral. Himself came and got me and we made our way to A&E. I remember mentioning on the way that I reckon they wanted a D-Dimer test, to check for clots.

Now, the first port of call was the admissions nurse. Who was terrifying and questioned how confused I could be (after reading my note from the walk-in centre). Eventually, she relented and I was told to wait for the triage. Triage happened, the nurse said I needed more investigations and I was issued with the wristband.

The doctor came and called me after about half an hour’s wait. He was THOROUGH. Many questions were asked, and he clearly did well in active listening class because he regularly recapped what I’d reported. He suggested we do blood tests, and arranged for a head CT. I got bloods drawn, and walked down to imaging. I felt like the technician was a bit dismissive, and didn’t really help me up on the bed but was very concerned that I should be using a wheelchair to return to the waiting area. This should have been a warning sign for me, but of course I argued that I was fine, I had my walking stick, I’d be okay!

At this point, himself had been waiting out in the main waiting area for me, but parking was running out. I told them that they should go. We could be hours yet!

I waited in MAU for about 10 minutes and my doctor came to find me, and took me into a room. This should have been my second warning that something was seriously wrong.

“So we’ve had the results back… and we’ve found a small bleed in your brain”.

I was not expecting that.

He continued… “we’ve sent the scan to another specialist hospital for their advice. It’s small at the moment and it’s not causing any pressure or bowing. We’re going to move you to resus to make sure we can keep an eye on you. The stroke team will come see you. Don’t be scared. We’ll look after you. I’m here if you have any questions”.

I silently walked behind him to resus. I sent a message to himself. “Can you come back please. I’m being admitted”.

He arrived and I crumpled. What followed was a blur of observations, talking to medics, being told that I wasn’t going to be transferred and then I was. Himself went to get me some supplies and left at 10:30. We’d been told it would be 90 minutes at least for the patient transport to get here. They were exhausted and so was I.

About half an hour later, I was trying to zip up my hoodie. My hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Then it cramped up, more than I’ve ever felt. I wasn’t in control and it was retracting into my body. I shouted HELP! Just as I could see people coming, the convulsions started. First in my arm then spreading over my body. The last thing I remember thinking was “I’m going to die”.

Obviously, I didn’t. I awoke to an o2 mask on, and my doctor reassuring me that I was ok.

Patient transport arrived, and I was transferred, arriving at 2am on the ward. I text himself that I’d had a seizure, but I was ok.

I managed to doze off, to then be awakened by a doctor at 4am wanting to discuss getting my consent to have an angio. I scribbled on the form as I couldn’t actually write, and fell back to sleep. To, of course, be woken up at 6am for observations and meds.

The angio didn’t happen that day, but did the following day. They found no evidence of any abnormality, aneurysm, or anything that could really explain why the bleed happened. I was discharged on the Wednesday evening into the care of himself, with strict instructions that I return should I feel any worsening of my symptoms.

That evening, the fight truly began. The road to recovery.

This blog was originally conceived as a way for me to share how I automate my home to help manage life as a disabled person. And then the stroke happened. Its still going to be that, but its also a place for me to discuss recovery following stroke, as a younger survivor. The journey to recovery, returning to work, and how life has to change to accommodate my additional needs.