Thursday 14 March 2013.  Around 6.00pm, I sat in my chair in the living room following our meal.  Everything was fine.  Then, completely out of the blue, my life changed in an instant.

I felt like I'd been hit with a cricket bat, but managed to crawl to the patio door from the chair.  I called out for Steve, who was in the next room.  When he came to me, I said 'I think I'm in trouble'.  Jenni arrived and an ambulance was called.  I was taken quickly to our local hospital and had a MRI scan.  Steve managed to be in the control room when the images came in.  The doctors who saw them went 'oohh' when they realised what they saw.  This was about midnight.  I went back to my cubicle in A&E and was told that I was to be transferred to the Queen's Medical Centre (QMC) in Nottingham (i).  We travelled on blue lights and sirens down the M1 as fast as possible.  During the ride, I spoke in a kind of 'Bill & Ben' language for a short while.  We arrived and I went to Resus whilst Steve was shown to the relative's room.

After around two hours, I was transferred to a ward, where I had the most terrible night.  Steve describes it as ferocious, scary and unreal.  I thrashed about, pulled strange faces and was totally taken over by my condition.  I managed to get some sleep, but I have no memory of events.  After scans,  we were told that I had a subarachnoid hemorrhage (SAH) (ii) and would need emergency surgery.  I was taken down, leaving Steve to sign the consent forms.

A day or two later I was able to sit up in a chair.  Jenni and Steve were amazed to find me like that when they visited.

Over the next few days, I became more mobile and had some therapies, including going to a kitchen and making a cup of tea. Scans, visits, small walks became the routine.  What I really wanted was to go home.  Eventually, after eleven days in hospital, I went home.  I couldn't believe it.  It was an emotional time and all I wanted was to go to bed, stay still and enjoy the lovely quiet.

The first few weeks had to be carefully managed.  Initially, I was on medication every four hours.  I would come downstairs for a little while, the time gradually building up.  Of course, thoughts of a more normal life, including driving, going to the shops seemed a very long way away.  In time, we introduced 'shop and drop'.  Steve would drive me to the shop and pick me up later.  I also went to a 'stroke club' and did little exercises.  That was good to meet people in a similar situation.

I increasing started to realise how lucky I'd been.  I suffered no very serious effects - I could walk, talk, eat and had a degree of independence when it came to washing and dressing myself.  I became stronger and eventually the big day came.  I got my driving license back!  That was an affirmation of how far I'd come in my recovery.

I had further surgery for 'Endovascular Coiling' (iii) to enable blood flow to be assisted .  That went well, except that I reacted to the contrast used in the imaging.  I got over that after a night in hospital.

As this post is written, I'm almost thirteen years since the event.  I've been very fortunate to survive it as well as I have.  I do carry scars - who wouldn't? - but I'm here and living life as well as I can.  Has it altered me?  Steve thinks he can see changes due to the hemorrhage, but I survived, due to the skill of the surgeons, the strength of my family and the goodwill of strangers.

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(i) Wikipedia: Queen's Medical Centre

(ii) Wikipedia: Subarachnoid hemorrhage

(iii) Wikipedia: Endovascular coiling

(iv) The Brain Charity: Subarachnoid brain haemorrhage