Geoff Pennells

"We don't know. You might do or you might not. Some people do walk again and some don't. We will do our best and see what happens." I started to regret admitting to two questions, but as there were only the two physiotherapists and me in the room, I could not pretend it was someone else. Asking if I'd be able to run again, sounded as stupid as I had belatedly realised it would.

It had started a week or so before, a beautiful crisp, cold sunny Winter's day, the first Sunday of 2001. I had run a ten mile race over Epsom Downs, been given a lift home, showered, changed and set off down the road to meet my wife, Lynda and children, Laura, 10, William, 7 and Abigail, 3 at friends for lunch. Does it get any better?

As I cross a main road, there is a strange noise in my head. Shaking my head, I mount the pavement, but the noise does not go away. Then, I cannot control my body. Desperately, I try to cling to a bush, afraid I'll fall into the road… I come to lying on the pavement, surrounded by a small group of kind people (including a doctor), who have seen me and stopped to help. An ambulance has been called and Lynda is summoned. We spend the afternoon at A&E at Mayday Hospital, Croydon. Nothing is found, but as I have banged my head and passed out, am told it would be best to stay at home for a day or so.

I follow the advice. On the Tuesday, Lynda, Abigail and I have just finished lunch, when the noise in my head starts again. Before I fall, I lay down on the kitchen floor. I start to throw up… I come round back in Mayday Hospital, attached to tubes and a mask. My brother is by my bed, nice to see him, but why is he here? Probably to have his ears sorted out as he can't hear, or at least understand, me very well. Still, he is doing better at that than the poor, attentive and caring, nurse assigned to me and he has to translate.

He says it is Friday. Later, I learn that in the intervening three days I have missed what Lynda, who is a doctor, describes as the hairiest and fastest ambulance ride of her life. I have been kept sedated but alive in ITU, while they try to find what is wrong with me. An early scan does not show damage to my brain as I have been taken to hospital so quickly. Lumbar punctures and other tests precede another scan, which answers the question, showing the damage to my brain. It had not been clear I would regain consciousness when they stopped the sedation.

Later, I am told I have had a stroke. What did I know of stroke at 42 and no family history? It happens to older folk and it is not very good - well, right on one count.

Some capabilities start to return, but my balance is badly affected. The physios start to get me to stand and then walk. A speech therapist arrives, but she recognises my returning South London mumble and lets me be. I try to write - uggh. The physios work hard and after three weeks I can get around enough to be allowed home.

The physio and exercise continue at home and as an outpatient under the talented care of physios and my GP visits regularly. Lots of tests ensue to establish what happened. By elimination, my Neurologist concludes that my posterior vertebral artery dissected of its own accord.

Family and friends help keep the household and our young family moving and me occupied. Friends from all walks of life, at home and abroad, do not let up on me and the calls, cards and visits continue. A Chelsea season ticket holder, arrangements are made to switch my seat for the disabled section and I'm taken to my first game in a wheel chair. An incredibly patient piano teacher, with a large supply of cotton wool for her ears, gives me lessons, which help me regain control of my fingers. I am not left to myself.

I learned of Different Strokes and devour the Newsletter each time it comes in the door - a point of reference in an uncertain world. "Hey, there is a lady in here, who ran a marathon after a stroke." Lynda gives me an old fashioned look, but after a few months I rather gingerly start running again - fantastic.

Citigroup, my employer (especially my immediate managers), is wonderfully supportive throughout. After 9 months, I return to work part time, under the careful control of the outstanding company doctor and his occupational health team. It is great to be back with friends at work.

Life begins to return to a more normal pattern, but I still regularly get very tired. When I do, I am clumsy, irritable and have to concentrate very hard on the things the physios taught me. Maybe if I can get fit, I will overcome the tiredness. I have been managing one gentle run a week, which I gradually extend. After some months I join a very friendly running club, Striders of Croydon, which really helps. I am fitter, but the tiredness does not go away.

The weekly run is extended to the point where, in September 2003, I enter a marathon in London's Battersea Park. It is quite a small park and so the field of about 80 complete the 26.2 miles over 15 and a bit laps of the Park. 3 hours and 45 minutes later, the family, friends and employer who have been so supportive of me, have contributed over £11,000 to Different Strokes.

Nearly three years after the stroke, I am doing well. I am still working part time under the care of the occupational health team. I continue to get monumentally tired and am then still clumsy and irritable.

I have been incredibly well looked after and cared for, but also I know I have been very lucky.

Geoff Pennells
December 2003

Thanks to Geoff for sending in his achievement. Anyone else who would like to share their story or achievements can send it along with a photograph (if you're not shy!)

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