Friday, 18 January 2013


So, I’m rushed into resus - by that point I’m unable to lift/stand/hop and all that jazz on my left foot. Again, ‘dont panic sand’ is what I told myself, as there was going to be a perfectly good reason why this happened and the dr would fix me and I’d be on my way in a few hours, or a day MAX. (How foolishly naive of me). And in my head I’m having a go at my leg thinking why the hell are you pretending not to work, that still did nothing and by this point I was completely paralysed from the left side neck down. The numbing of my mouth had become intermittent at this point and my speech wasn’t too clear either, I just put it down to me being a mumbler (my friend’s usually tell me it’s a terrible habit, possibly worse than my handwriting).

And then my mum walks in and all that hold it together, be a power ranger nonsense went out of the window, and I suddenly turned into an 18 month old who needed consoling. She was almost as shocked as me, so she absolutely didn’t reassure my worries, although she did try her utmost hardest - bless her.

In comes the doctor, she was super cool and completely honest in her diagnosis admitting that she didn’t really know what was going on but that I was in the right place and that they’d do their best to find out. As much as this didn’t exactly settle my worried mind, I liked her and felt safe in her care. So, off I go for some tests, some sort of brain scan to begin with, I don’t remember much of what happened here, but I remember being wheeled back into resus whilst doctors awaited the results, and all I see is my mum sitting there with my converse in her hand. ‘these stink’ she said with a cheeky grin on her face - I couldn’t help but feel good that she was still being ‘normal’ with me (whatever that is!)

Meanwhile, Dr Liz returns and says I’m indeed having a stroke, but that she would need to carry out more tests to determine how/why etc. I cried again and even mum was at it this time. ‘it’s going to be alright I told myself’. Then, an elderly dr came in and said the tests came back and showed everything was fine and that I could leave. ‘what the actual FUCK is he talking about’ I thought to myself, so mum gets up to go outside and says we won’t be leaving until an explanation has been given for the paralysis on the left side, at this point a student nurse had to tell the dr off as the consultant had already been in and said I wasn’t to be moved, mum added a sarcastic ‘yeah’ when he said ‘oh right, I do apologise maam’. Incidentally and thankfully that was the last I saw of that moron.

And at some point Gav (the bf) came and I don’t really remember much about that. All I remember now, is being in and out of consciousness and seeing my boyfriend and consultant wheeling me on the bed down to the MRI bit. ‘What’s going on I asked him’ (memory was all over the place at this point) he explained and again went the water works once more. Next, I remember having the MRI and my arm almost being trapped because the moron who set me up on the board thought I could hold my arm up, I cried to him ‘it’s not working’ and was even more scared that he was going to accidentally trap me in there, because he was a feckless numpty.

Once more, things are hazy from here on out, but I remember going into a bay on my own. I’m in and out of consciousness still and I remember a nurse saying ‘Hello Sandy, my name’s Emma and I’ll be looking after you today. We’ve brought you up to the stroke unit because you’ve had a stroke’ and I’m sat there thinking ‘I’m only 23’.

‘Call Sam’ I remember telling my boyfriend, panicked that I didn’t know what was going to happen, I wanted to be able to speak to one of my closest friends on the phone incase I wasn’t able to again (looking back now, I’m thinking how dramatic sand). Of course, I dosed off so my boyfriend did the calls to friends. I was upset that my sister hadn’t got here yet, once she did though, I through a hissy fit, which left us both in tears. She’d never seen me that ‘weak’ before, and I’d never seem that pitying frightened look she gave me before.

And then the big evil dr came in (he wasn’t big, he probably wasn’t evil but he definitely was one of the most incompetent drs id ever had the discomfort of meeting) ‘just need to take some bloods’ he said, ‘it’ll be like a small scratch’ he said. All that was a lie, he jabbed me so many times that it got to the point where I just threw an absolute wobbler, I demanded he ‘fuck off’ and in comes Ram (One of the male sisters) to inject some morphine, which was quite relaxing until everyone left except my mum.

I suddenly felt really weird and disorientated. ‘mum, mum, mum come here’ I said, and all I remember is seeing her hand and suddenly the lights in the room were flicking and everything blacked out. Shortly a after I awoke to find a room full, and I look down and see that I’m soaked. I look up to my mum, she looks like she’s seen a ghost, I turn to Gav and he looks just as worried. ‘why am I wet?’ I asked him. ‘you’ve had a fit and lost control of your bladder sand’. In that moment, I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d never fitted in my life before ever, does that mean I have epilepsy then, I asked myself. It just felt like after 23 years of never requiring hospital care except for minor fractures/sprains (I was quite the sports fanatic in my youth but also extremely accident prone), But it seemed as though my body was trying it’s best to tick myself off for a million and one problems.

I get moved from the room on my own into a bay with other female patients. And they’re all over 65 at least. Never have I ever felt more out of place or like a minority. It was really difficult for me to adjust to this setting, I just want to get out that’s all I kept telling myself. Later on that day I remember waking up to visits from my friends. I cried every time anyone came that day. One of my friends even joked that I hadnt been on twitter which made me chuckle a bit as I’m quite the twitter whore!


  1. Just came across your blog on twitter. Wow. Thats shocking to hear what you went through, but im glad you're recovering! Keep safe x

  2. I identify with your discomfort being in a hospital room with +65 year olds; when I collapsed a lung at age 18, the same happened to me. This was your first serious medical event too.

    I think you coped as well as you could at that time. You are now part of a very special group, like I am, the Stroke Survivor Club.

    Surviving is the hard part. The healing and recovery is as easy or hard as you make it on yourself.

    As you recover, you will become so much stronger and better, both physically and amotionally, than ever before. It might take some time to recognize that I'm right about you, but you will.