Wee Ginger Dug: This is how life is one year on from having my stroke

Although I’ve made enormous improvements and try to maintain a positive outlook, the truth is I have been left with lasting and long-term disabilities which could prove to be permanent.

Before October 12, 2020, the possibility of a stroke wasn’t even on my radar. My cholesterol was high but within the normal range. I didn’t have high blood pressure; if anything it was lower than typical for a man of my age. I was not overweight, had no heart problems, don’t drink alcohol and had given up smoking years ago. There is no history of strokes or heart disease in my family. There were none of the usual risk factors that might predispose someone to a higher risk of stroke.

In retrospect, there were some red flags which I’d ignored. In the weeks prior to the stroke I experienced a number of dizzy spells, but since they quickly passed I didn’t think too much of them. Perhaps more significantly I had a couple of episodes of transitory partial blindness in my left eye. My vision in that eye was partially occluded, as though a shutter had been lowered.

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These episodes were of very short duration, but had I not ignored them and reported them to the doctor it is possible a medical investigation might have discovered I was at high risk for a stroke and action could have been taken to prevent it. Should you experience similar symptoms, go to your doctor. It is vital that you get them looked at.

I don’t remember much of the day itself before the stroke happened. However, I do remember the actual event vividly. I was sitting on the sofa in the living room idly using the laptop. It was 10.30pm and I was about to take the dog out for his last walk before bedtime.

Suddenly I felt very weak and dizzy with a trembling in every muscle. Not feeling up to taking the dog out for a proper walk I decided just to take him to the grass near the entrance to the close so he could do his business. While he was peeing I remember looking up at the night sky and thinking that I was about to faint. I just knew I had to get home as quickly as possible. I don’t remember climbing the stairs to our top-floor flat.

I went into the bedroom and remember telling my husband, Peter: “I don’t feel so good.” Then I collapsed on to the bed and started vomiting violently. My late husband Andy died of vascular dementia and had several strokes, none of which made him vomit, so I didn’t associate vomiting with strokes. I’ve since learned it’s not an uncommon symptom when the stroke affects the rear of the brain, as in my case.

Soon afterwards, I started to shiver and shake. At the time I just felt cold. I now realise I was having a seizure due to the electrical activity in my brain going haywire. It was then that Peter called 999 for an ambulance. I remember him telling the operator that the left side of my face had drooped, and her replying: “I don’t want to alarm you but I think he might be having a stroke.” After that I passed out.

The next thing I remember, the ambulance crew were in the room. It’s all very hazy after that. My memory was fried for a couple of weeks and the following days are a blur of confusion, fear, nausea, and the worst headache ever.

As someone who has always relied on his wits to get by, the realisation I was having memory and cognitive problems was terrifying. Just as frightening was the awareness that I had almost died and that you can literally be fine one second and drop dead the next. Even more terrifying was waking up in a hospital bed totally paralysed and without any feeling or movement down the entire left side of my body.

It’s not even that I was numb, numbness is still a sensation. There was just nothing, as though my leg and arm were simply not there. I also had a visual issue. My brain was no longer processing information from the left side of the visual field. You know that sensation you get when you can’t find something, and then realise it was sitting right in front of you all the time? It was like that, with everything on the left.

Becoming aware that I couldn’t walk, use my left hand or arm (I’m left-handed), couldn’t see properly, could no longer rely on my memory, was the most frightened I’ve ever been. I wouldn’t be able to work, could no longer drive, and worst of all would not be able to return home to a top-floor tenement up three flights of stairs. I was dependent on help for the most basic things, washing, dressing, even going to the toilet.

I will forever owe The National a huge debt of gratitude for getting me through those early terrifying weeks. There was no way I’d have got a mortgage to get a home that was suitable for my newly restricted mobility, but The National organised a crowdfunder to help.

Immensely more than the money, the outpouring of love and concern was an enormous morale booster at a time when Covid restrictions meant family and friends were not allowed to visit patients in hospital.

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This newspaper and its amazing staff prevented me from sinking into a dark pit of despair; it gave me hope and purpose. That gave me the strength I needed to recover.

One year on I still have very limited use of my left hand and arm. I have constant pain and stiffness in the entire left side of my body. Sensation remains very poor and the left side is still very weak.

I have poor stamina and fatigue easily. I have weakness in the chest muscles, so any exertion makes me breathless. I still can’t drive. But on a more positive note I no longer need the wheelchair I relied on when I was discharged from hospital and the visual problem has completely resolved itself. I walk with a stick, but I’m walking. I still have regular physiotherapy sessions. “Relax,” she tells me as she tortures my stiff and sore limbs.

But rather than mourn what I can no longer do, I prefer to focus on what I can do. Life after a major stroke has its challenges, but it’s still life and where there is life there is hope. My goal is to recover enough have another dog. I know I’ll get there. There will never be another Ginger, but there will be another wee ginger dug.