Very gingerly, I opened my eyes for the second time that morning. A couple of hours earlier Suzy, my wife, had kissed me goodbye as she headed out the door to work. I’d mumbled incoherently and gone back to sleep. Daylight was now streaming through the curtains, I squinted as the second worse headache of my life seared through my forehead. I couldn’t see. I wasn’t blind, it was more like someone had smashed the screen on a phone. I attempted to scan my room, as the shards of vision flickered, colours and shapes were in the wrong order. Adrenalin surged as my confused mind searched for explanations. It’s not as bad as the headache I had that time in Swaziland, where I drank too much out-of-date beer and woke up in a house with no running water. Maybe I was just hung-over, my mind suggested unhelpfully. I haven’t drunk for six years I reminded myself, squeezing my eyes shut desperate to see clearly. Maybe I’m just hungry- a moment’s clarity through the uncertainty. I staggered through to the kitchen, my brain still keeping up the pretence that I’d had one too many.
“Porridge” I suddenly said out loud, coaxing myself to stop staring at an empty bowl. I tore the packet open and emptied its contents; the flakes glistened magically like a kaleidoscope. Although everything looked vaguely familiar, I felt disconnected, like I was an explorer from another dimension. Studying the room, flitting between awe and uncertainty, occasionally I’d be interrupted as the pain in my head would rear up like a striking cobra. “I need to make the porridge hot.” Staring into the fridge, unsure how I’d got there or what I was looking for, I smiled realising I didn’t know how. Something’s not right, I allowed myself to finally admit.
Exhaustion engulfed me; I just needed to sleep. Overcome, I dropped onto the floor and pushed my forehead onto the cold kitchen lino.
A baby started to cry. This is the first time I became aware of hearing something other than the thoughts in my head. Perhaps the cold floor inspired some decisiveness. The baby belongs to our neighbours, Haddy is a doctor, she’ll know what’s wrong. I felt silly as I stumbled cautiously down the stairs, having second thoughts: don’t bother them, I’m fine, I just need to go to sleep. Luckily I ignored myself and knocked on the door.
Josh opened and the relief of no longer being alone distorted my voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m sorry, I can’t see”. Their calmness and reassurance over the next ten minutes until the ambulance arrived set the tone for my entire recovery. This undoubtedly saved my life. Haddy fetched my shoes and coat and explained that the paramedics would take me to A&E. She offered to call Suzy, but I didn’t want to bother her at work. I’d convinced myself I’d be home in a couple of hours.
The eight minutes to hospital were a blur. I felt sick, unsure why I couldn’t answer any questions. The anxious whir of the siren stopped as I held the paramedic’s hand and climbed out of the ambulance.
As we reached the top of the ramp, the sliding doors to the emergency ward opened, and I felt accosted- it was sensory overload. Frantic machines beeping and humming, pure white light reflecting off every surface, more people than I could count talking at each other in code. We had to queue as two other teams of paramedics barked vital information at the overwhelmed doctors and nurses.
“I feel dizzy,” I embarrassingly whispered, trying not to add to the chaos. A nurse looked up at me briefly before ushering us into a side room. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, another conversation in code before the paramedic wished me good luck as she left. I asked the nurse if it was always this busy, she turned and said, “it’s crazy, you’re the fourth stroke we’ve had this morning”. She closed the door and left me in the abrupt silence. It took a few seconds before my brain caught up. I opened my eyes and repeated that word: Stroke.
I had a stroke!
The next few hours I drifted in and out of consciousness, the shock appeared to make time speed up and then slow down. Concerned faces asked impossible questions, administered uncomfortable tests and yucky medications, occasionally silence and I’d be able to get some sleep. I suddenly became aware that someone was standing over me. I opened my eyes as Suzy kissed me on the forehead like she had done a few hours earlier. For a split second it felt like it could have been a dream.
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