Chetan Joshi

Hello all. My name is Chetan Joshi and I'd like to offer you my story of how Stroke has affected my life. I'm 32 years of age and live in North West London. I had a Stroke just over a year ago, it happened on 9th January 2003, a couple of weeks before my 31st birthday.

In early December 2003, I remember watching television one evening at home on my own. (My now ex-wife and I were separated and our divorce was in progress.) I don't recall what I was watching but my vision became impaired as I lay on the sofa, there were blurry patches in my field of vision. No matter how much I rubbed my eyes, or where I looked, the blurriness remained. I thought it was quite strange as I had never experienced that before. As there was no pain I didn't think much else of it and went to sleep hoping things would be back to normal again in the morning.

The next morning, everything was fine. My sight was as normal as before and so I shrugged away the previous evening's fears as just a glitch. I carried on with my newly independent life and went to work.

A few days later, we had our office Christmas party in a trendy bar in London. During the evening, I remember feeling what can only be described as a dull pain at the back of my head towards the right. Once again, I carried on as normal. "Just another glitch", I thought. Only this time, the pain in my head kept coming and going for several days.

It was early January 2003 now and the headaches were persistent, so I decided to see my GP. An appointment was arranged late one Tuesday afternoon. I left work early that day. I saw my doctor promptly, but I don't remember much of our meeting. I do remember waiting nearly 45 minutes in the bitterly cold weather for a bus. I just wanted to go to my parents home 5-10 minutes away! The bus finally arrived. I have no real memory of what happened in the few days that followed. I have a patchy series of events in my head along with what I have been told by my family.

Some time later, maybe the next day, I sat at home with my mother. We watched a DVD as I waited for a plumber to visit (my boiler needed repairing and I had previously arranged for him to come and inspect it). I must have called in sick at work that day.

I've been told what happened next. I called in sick again at work the next morning. I phoned my parents to let them know that I'd be at home that day. During the call, I told my father that I was having trouble with my co-ordination and vision. My parents called my aunt who is a GP at a local Health Centre. She told them to call an ambulance straight away and that she would be at my local hospital later on that day to see how I was.

In the meantime, my mother somehow made her way to my home with some bread and soup for me. I had some of it only to vomit it up shortly afterwards. As I was given a change of clothing, the ambulance had arrived along with my father. I was asked if I needed any assistance getting into the ambulance. I refused and made my own way inside.

Apparently, I had multiple strokes as I arrived at the hospital. My next memory is lying in bed in the hospital with my mother and my uncle at my side. I remember being in agony as I wanted to go to the toilet but couldn't speak to let anyone know of my desperation.

I was kept at my local hospital, Northwick Park, for around 24 hours after which it was arranged for me to be transferred to the National Hospital for Neurosurgery in Queen Square, London. Unbeknown to me, The National would become my home for the next few weeks. My next recollection is of being transferred to another hospital (The Heart Hospital in Harley Street I think). I only remember muffled voices in the ambulance and the weather being cold and overcast. It was drizzling as I was carried out of the ambulance and into the hospital. I recall being happy that I was finally breathing fresh, cold air. I had various tests and scans carried out and was returned to The National.

The next thing I remember is being woken up (from sleep or unconsciousness) by my doctor, who told me then that I had had a stroke and asked if I remembered anything. I for some reason, relayed to him a dream that I had, believing it to be true. He asked me further questions, I believe, to ascertain a cause for my strokes. I explained to him that I didn't drink, smoke or take drugs and that I was vegetarian...but I was going through a divorce. Could the stress have caused the attack? This possibility was quickly ruled out by the doctor. To this day, I still don't know what caused these strokes. Another glitch possibly?

My overall stay at The National was quite pleasant. In fact, I was a bit miffed when I was transferred back to Northwick Park because I had built a good rapport with my 'co-patients' and the hospital staff who I must say were fantastic. I suppose I was conditioned into accepting my new surroundings. I had established a routine at The National and was getting on very well with the mixture of staff, patients and even their families which came to visit.

While at The National, I relearned how to talk and walk thanks to the marvellous therapists there. My therapy continued at Northwick Park when I was transferred back 2-3 weeks later. My stay at my local hospital was equally memorable. I remember, at first, being uncomfortable with my new environment, even though I was nearer to home. I arrived one afternoon expecting a welcoming committee of some description. Instead, I was brought straight to the ward and placed in my bed and basically expected to get on with things. I wasn't happy with this but bit my lip and gradually acclimatised over the next few days.

My fellow patients were real characters. We were in a six bed ward. I was by the window. To my left was Mr. AC a very elderly man in his 80's who was not happy being in hospital. Next to him was G, a 6 foot tall Rastafarian who had a healthy admiration for Bob Marley and Celine Dion who was also convinced he was not meant to be in hospital. Opposite me was M, a top bloke, a bit older than me. Next to him was Mr. P an elderly man whose grasp of English was limited to the words "toilet", "happy" and "up". Fortunately, I was able to translate on his behalf. God knows how he coped until then. Next to Mr. P the position was occupied by a number of people during my stay.

As the days passed, I became more content with all the staff and my new environment. I began to actually feel comfortable. I was beginning to accept my new disability and cope with my new limitations. The doctors, phlebotomists, therapists and hospital staff were all superb people. I have since had the pleasure of meeting some of them on subsequent visits to the hospital.

My days at Northwick Park involved going to sleep in the evening with the words "No woman. No Cry." Ringing in my ears (G had a penchant for listening to loud music). I would be woken up in the mornings with Celine Dion belting out the theme to "Titanic" at the top of her voice.

I was, and still am, unable to use my hands very well, so an electric toothbrush was bought for me and I was fed by someone else initially. Conducting my bath and toilet duties took some adjusting too.

I was discharged from hospital on Valentine's Day 2003." Someone was playing a bad trick on me." I was convinced. Not only was I tormented with G's collection of Celine Dion albums, I had "No woman. No cry" echoing in my head. Furthermore, I had to endure months of ping-ponging back and forth from my solicitor to sort out details concerning my divorce! Still..."Don't worry...about a thing. Cos every little thing...is gonna be alright." were words from G's Bob Marley repertoire that also rang through my head.

Well, it's now a year on and I'm managing with my slow progress, although I can't write, type or draw very well (I'm a graphic designer). I'm back at work on a part time basis. I should also like to mention that my employers have been very supportive over the short time that I've been with them. I had only been with them around 7 months when this illness struck and they were kind/generous enough to give me six months rest as well. I've been back at work since August 2003 and am soon planning a trip abroad with my parents.

I shall continue hoping and praying for normality to resume in my life. I hope my account of this illness can offer some comfort to others who may be going through what my family and I have been/am going through. I would also like to thank all the people and organisations who have contributed to my life over recent times including Different Strokes.

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

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