Ian Robinson

25th October 2004 a date that will stay not only with wife but, my children and me for a long time to come.

A very special thanks must go to them for putting up with the months of pain, frustration, anguish, tears and counselling we have all had to go through.

Well that day started out an ordinary day or so it seemed, I felt fine that morning Teresa and myself had set out to Gillingham FC training ground to watch Georgia my 10 year old daughter play in a inter schools football tournament. We had only been at the training ground about 20 minutes when I was struck down with what seemed like a very large TIA (Transient Ischaemic Attack).

I firstly noticed my eyesight was not right; I was looking at my daughter and wondering why could I see two of her and her friends.

The next thing I noticed was a friend of mine was handing me my mobile phone, which I had dropped on the floor, I took it from him and immediately dropped it again, I thought that's weird! Why can't I keep hold of it?

I turned to Teresa to tell her what I was experiencing and found my self staring blankly at two of her, unable to speak, all I could hear was Teresa asking me what was wrong and looking a bit panic stricken. "Come with me " Teresa said and led me away from the children to a place behind a Tent out of sight. From there I managed to walk toward the car park where I finally collapsed in the bushes. While I was sitting in the bushes I was very much aware of what was going on around me. I could see people running and I could hear and see Teresa and Georgia crying and talking to others, I was aware of the club physiotherapist and doctor supporting me and wrapping me in coats and there I stayed in my bush until the ambulance arrived.

Not once during this time did I ask myself what was going on, I just seemed to go along with it shivering uncontrollably.

I was taken to Medway Maritime Hospital. In the ambulance I could feel myself becoming more aware of what was happening around me and started to react to instructions from the paramedic. I could hear him telling my wife that all my vital signs were good.

In the hospital I was kept in a cubicle for a few hours were I came round fully although still very confused. I remember a conversation with my brother in law. "What hospital am I in?" I asked him. "Medway" he replied. "Yes, but what hospital am I in?" "Medway", again he replied. "But what hospital am I in?" "You've lost it," he told me. I think I might have agreed with him.

I was moved to a ward and kept overnight for observation. My family had gone home early evening as I was comfortable and very tired from my little episode and really needed the rest. It was what happened next none of us were expecting.

While I slept I suffered a Left Thalamic Infarct, a blood clot deep in the middle of my brain. I must have been showing signs of discomfort while it was happening as when I awoke in the early hours of the morning I found a nurse sitting on my bed asking me if I was alright when I tried to answer her I found I could not speak and it seemed as if some force had pinned me to the bed even one side of my face felt heavy and numb as if I had teeth removed or knocked out with sledge hammer, I started crying, trying to lift my right arm with my good arm and looking to the nurse to help me.

For the rest of that night I drifted in and out of sleep, crying every time I awoke until my wife and sister came early the next day. As soon as my wife saw the state I was in she joined in the crying.

I spent the next nine days in Medway hospital until I was ready to be transferred to St Bartholomew's in Rochester which was a special stoke rehabilitation unit.

I remember the ambulance driver telling me "They're going to love you in there, they don't get many under the age of sixty."

For the next four weeks it was speech therapists, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, psychologists and daily doctors checks and last but by no means least very friendly nurses all of which I will be eternally grateful to for getting me through the most difficult time of my life and back on the very long and slow road to recovery.

It has now been six months since my stroke and I am still not back to work yet, in fact, I think it will be a long time yet until I can return. I still have physiotherapist at home and have re gained the movement in my arm at last however limited the movement is I am grateful for it. My hand function is up to using a spoon to eat but only for a few minutes, as of yet, handwriting is no good. The more I concentrate on writing the tighter the muscles in my hand get until I give up. The short distance I can walk gives me the fresh air breaks outside.

I regularly pace up and down the front path to build my strength up in the hope that one day soon I can start acting like a father again to stop my children asking there mum "when will daddy be back to normal again?"

I have tried to keep this short enough so you don't get bored reading it but long enough so you can get an idea of the roller coaster of emotions we have had to endure over the last six months.

Thanks to Ian 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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