The Long Road Ahead

It was the morning after boxing day. I returned home the night before after a feeling of sickness of the home variety. I awoke to the feeling of drunkenness washing over me, which was strange given that I hadn’t touched alcohol since I was 12 or 13. I got up and got ready in my stupor. I noticed my balance was off, swaying back and forth; I managed to bring myself to my desk, where I sat down and tried to shake the grogginess hanging over my head and shoulders.

After an hour or two, I realised that it wasn’t shifting. I called my uncle, who was the closest person to me at that point. Unfortunately, I learned that he was hours away. As I talked, the words that came out of my mouth sounded so typical and like myself, though they were a slurred mess to him. At that point, I was told by him that I might be having a stroke. He would call my aunt the next closest person to me. She said that I was having a stroke. Unfortunately, at the time, I discounted her opinion on the matter as her being “dramatic” and seemingly impossible that I would be able to have a stroke at the age of 22.

But I was hardly in a place to think that there was nothing wrong with me; she told me to get ready because she would travel down to my house and phone for an ambulance. After all, I was in no state to even get the words out at this point, so I hung up and began to get ready. I remember sitting in my chair and playing Hearthstone on my PC, hoping deeply that this was just a bad dream and that I’d wake up soon. Sadly, as time went on, that hope would be trampled on more and more.

Thirty minutes had passed, and I heard my aunt at my door. Thankfully, she had a key and let herself in. She told me that the ambulance was on her way, and she began to comfort me, trying her hardest to see me through this ocean of anxiety, worry and stress. Twenty minutes later, the ambulance arrived, and little did I know that this would be the last time I walked normally under my own power.

As I got into the hospital, I felt so weak and tired whilst trying to remain positive. I was placed in the hospital Accident & Emergency ward on a stretcher and waited for a doctor to come and see me. It was at this point that I started to drift in & out of consciousness for the next few hours. A doctor arrived and wanted to perform a lumbar puncture; at this point, I was more terrified at the thought of that than whatever was actually going on with me. im rather squeamish about needles going anywhere on my person, but especially in my spine. Fortunately, my drifting in & out of consciousness was very much still in effect, and I was told that nothing more could be done until the morning.

The following day (hospital)

The next morning, I awoke to the same drunken, dizzy feeling I had the day before. Clearly, what I had was not shifting a doctor who was a different person to the last doctor I had seen approached me. I suddenly recalled the previous day and the thought of what it could bring, and this sickening feeling washed over me. I then was asked questions about my issue I told her, and she suggested that it could be “low sodium levels” I was never more happy to hear that it wasn’t a stroke but something that could mimic those symptoms. She left me at the moment, and I fell back to sleep.

I awoke later, needing to go to the toilet. As I got up to sit on the edge of the bed, I realised that my left foot was not as mobile as previously. It felt noticeably heavy to move at this moment. I began to realise what my aunt said was becoming more accurate, as if that was what I wanted. Like, come on, at least give me the lottery numbers as well. Why is it that predictions are mainly in the negative when it comes to me… anyway I tried my best and got myself to the edge. Still, I didn’t figure that what was happening might affect me as a whole, so as I got there, I slid off the bed and hit the floor with a crash.

After a few minutes, I composed enough of myself to get up. I managed to get back up, and I called for the nurse. I explained what had happened to me; she let the doctors know, and shortly after, I went for an MRI; as im doing this and waiting for the results in a side ward, I fell asleep again; after a bit, I woke up and realised that Im was restless and uncomfortable as I try to shimmy to a more comfortable position I fall off my stretcher bed and as im not on the floor similarly to before I try to get up but I begin to realise that things are even worse than before my left leg feels completely powerless and my arm and hand are having issues being my arm and hand.

At that moment, I lost it. I truly felt so helpless. My body, the thing that had survived so much and had pulled my withered soul through trial and tribulation, had finally failed to carry the burden I exploded. My emotions were boiling over. I began to cry and became angry. I proceeded to call for a nurse, who found me at this low point in my life. After snapping at her and explaining my symptoms in the most condescending manner as if it was obvious to her what I was going through, she told me that she needed to get a hoist and until then, I would have to remain on the floor as they could help me up without it.

1 hour later…

I got hoisted onto a bed, and after explaining my symptoms to an on-call doctor who was the same doctor I spoke with initially and had said that my condition could be due to low sodium levels, she had the results of my MRI I had indeed suffered from a hemorrhagic was transferred to the stroke ward.

Little did I know that this was the beginning of a journey that would change my life for the better, for my path ahead was not an alley or a street but a long road.

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