I’ve been going through an intense learning experience recently.
Four years ago I had a stroke that affected my right side. Mobility and dexterity were completely gone.
My wife has looked after me and as a result I have made gains. I can move my right arm and hand a bit, also walk a few steps. I was passed fit to drive an adapted vehicle.
It certainly looks like progress is possible.
But this is the bit where somehow we seem to have got on board an unexpected, knuckles clenched holding on tight, roller coaster ride.
One morning, a few weeks ago, I was greeted with a stoney stare from my wife. No matter how much I begged she refused point blank to talk to me. Whatever I had done wrong it must have been pretty bad for me to deserve this.
In desperation I rang her daughter who told me she could do nothing. She was too busy at work. Something was definitely wrong. I needed help, my carer wouldn’t speak to me.
In desperation I ran 111. After a few minutes I gave up, there was nothing useful coming from that direction.
I decided to ring 999, explained I was a stroke survivor and that my carer was refusing to talk to me.
The operator asked me a series of questions and said it might take some time before an ambulance would arrive.
Then suddenly she said an ambulance would be with us in 10 minutes.
And it was.
The two ambulance personel examined Hilary, had a discussion together, told me it looked like she had had a stroke, something I hadn’t realised, and they were going to take her, with blues & twos, going at speed to hospital.
I told them I’d get there by car. They warned me not to try to keep up with them or I’d be breaking the law.
The roller coaster ride had begun.
When I arrived at the hospital I was seriously impressed. At the main entrance was a huge landing space big enough for several helicopters.
I got my scooter out of the car and set off to find my wife. Once in the hospital I asked where she was. It is a huge building. It was lucky I had my scooter to help with my mobility.
When I found her it turned out she had been scanned on arrival, thrombolysed and had received a second scan.
She was talking again and very much back to how she usually was. It was such a relief. She was, after a few days, moved from the acute ward to another hospital.
I was able to visit her at both hospitals because of my car and scooter. After a few weeks she was good to come home. It was great to have her back again.
But this is a roller coaster ride.
There’s no time to take a breath. Nope can’t get off the ride yet.
Hilary was upstairs on her computer but something wasn’t working properly so she phoned me downstairs to tell me.
I told her I’d be right up.
As I started on the stairs I realised my right leg had gone back to being unresponsive. My arm had packed up too.
I couldn’t turn around so I had to continue up the stairs. Hilary saw me struggling and phoned for an ambulance.
I managed to get back downstairs and sat in my wheelchair. I could see I was going to end up a basket case.
This was just too much, I was back to being scared and uncertain.
Both Hilary and I would end up being carted off somewhere.
The ambulance arrived. I was taken to the same hospital, with the helipad, where Hilary was treated. Same ward too.
I was warned that there was a possibility that the procedure could be dangerous.
What a thrilling ride!!
I was scanned and after an hour thrombolysed. Eventually another scan indicated all was stable there were no bleeds.
A few days later I was in a taxi coming home.
It’s the middle of the night again and a time when I want to get it all written down.
6.00 am now.
A nice, calm, uneventful day will do just fine.
May your adventures end happily.
keep on keepin on
I have to thank Aintree University Hospital for the speedy and effective treatment both my wife and I recently received.
I hope that sooner rather than later this will become available throughout the UK.
I’d better get my tablets together and prepare for the new day.
I think my perspective is more likely to offend though, yours is mostly harmless. (Another DA reference).