Liam Murray

The first time I started to feel strange was in July 2003 during an evening out with my wife in London. Walking around the capital on a very pleasant summer evening I suddenly started to feel extremely dizzy - a sensation akin to standing up too quickly after laying down - but it was continuous. After five minutes feeling like this, I started to panic which made it worse, and developed a ravaging thirst. After a short sit down on the steps of the nearest newsagent and a swiftly downed bottle of water I began to feel better, and my wife and I agreed that Id been overdoing it lately, at work and at play and needed to take it easy for a while. The following day, I felt great and put the incident in London to the back of my mind.

Over the following months, I received the wonderful news that I had landed my dream job, working in Montego Bay, Jamaica. Things moved so quickly and I was told that I was required to start work on the 1st September. My wife and I were "over the moon" to be presented with this opportunity, however, there was one drawback and that was that she would not be able to join me until Christmas, as, working as a teacher, she was required to give one term's notice of her intention to leave.

I left, as planned on the last weekend of August, and started at my new employers on the 1st September. As a recently married man, I knew that the following 3 months without my wife were going to be difficult but I always knew that we would make it through and have a wonderful life together, in paradise.

On October 11th, 2003, it all went wrong.

I had been working very long hours since I arrived - firstly to create a good impression and secondly, to keep my mind off the fact that I was desperately missing my wife. I needed a break from work, and decided that I would take the Friday off to recharge my batteries. On the Thursday evening, some of my new colleagues had planned a small get together at their apartment in the same complex that I was staying at. We talked, ate, played cards and drank till the small hours of the morning. I left that evening with a belly full of beer and a spinning head but with the first smile on my face I'd had in 5 weeks.

The following morning I awoke with the most horrendous headache. I remember thinking that I knew I'd had too much to drink the previous evening, but had never had a hangover like this before. Besides, I didn't feel nauseous or run down like I would normally do with a hangover - I just had a raging headache.

Suddenly, I had an excruciating pain in my chest, although it lasted only a matter of seconds - if that. Then, I developed a warm sensation, which slowly rose from my chest, up my neck, into my mouth and then hung, briefly at the top of my head before flashing in an instance and then disappearing. There was no pain, although I felt extremely dizzy and disorientated.

After laying in a daze for what seemed hours, but was probably no more than a minute, I decided to arise from my bed and splash my face with cold water to "bring me around". However, as I stepped out of bed, my legs gave way and I crashed to the floor. My legs still worked but were weak, and I struggled to get up and made my way to the bathroom. My short walk to the bathroom was interrupted, however, when I suddenly started vomiting violently and uncontrollably. I didn't feel sick, but with every step I took I was involuntarily sick until I was heaving so much that I was vomiting blood. My vision was blurred and no matter how much I rubbed my eyes, I still couldn't focus. After five minutes trying to focus in the bathroom mirror, I was horrified to see that my eyes were pointing in opposite directions.

After a few hastily made phone calls, I was taken, by a colleague to the local doctor and optician. Both agreed that I had suffered from a mixture of stress and alcohol poisioning. I felt that this was not true, but, who was I to argue with two qualified professionals. I was sent back to my apartment for 2 days bed rest in total darkness - after which they assured me I would recover.

I phoned my wife, and we were both relieved with the news that it was nothing serious.

Fortunately, however, a more conscientious doctor at the surgery had looked through my notes and decided, 5 hours after my initial visit, that I needed to be looked at further and should have a CAT scan. The hospital containing the necessary equipment, however, was closed, so I had to stay overnight at the doctors. A neurologist came to see me that evening, looked at me for five minutes, and told me, without the use of any equipment that I'd had a stroke and the next two hours were critical for me. He told me I should ring my family in case I didn't get chance to if I didn't wake up the following morning!

I didn't call them that night, but took five minutes in my bed to think of them all individually and say goodbye. I felt totally calm and relaxed that evening which shocked me and I accepted that I may not make it through the night. I was given some pain killers and orange juice to help me through the night.

The next day, my CAT scan did, indeed, show that I had suffered a stroke, at the top of my brain stem. I was told, however, that I would need an MRI scan, which was located in Kingston, a 10 hour drive through the mountains. This would not be possible, however, for 2 more days as the equipment was not freely available and would need to be reserved. At that time, I didn't know much about strokes, but what I did know was that I needed some urgent medical attention to stop any bleeding that was still in my head. My options were to wait 2 days to be treated in Kingston, at a hospital with limited equipment, specialism or knowledge, or put myself, against the orders of the doctors, on a plane to London.

It didn't take more than seconds to decide that I would take my chances and go to London. I had no concept of what dangers flying might entail, but boarding the plane was the most frightening experience of my life. Somehow, I slept throughout the flight and arrived in London, where I was greeted by medical crew when I stepped off the plane, wheelchaired through customs and greeted at the exit by my wife and her friend, who drove me to hospital.

The next few hours were a chaotic mixture of tests, high speed ambulance rides and countless drugs. I was told that I should never have made it through the flight and ordered to lay down and not raise my head for the next week.

After 2 weeks in hospital, the only obvious side effects I had was the massive squint in my eyes. I was told that they would probably "go back to normal" but in the meantime was given an eye patch to stop the double vision.

More tests a few months later and a cerebral angiogram gave me the "all clear" and I was signed off from the hospital's care.

I still have the squint in my eyes (I am quite a legend at my hospital as it is the biggest squint they have ever seen!) which means I have complete double vision. I am awaiting a corrective operation in March 2006 which hopefully should correct this.

Having read the other survivor stories on this website, I am quite humbled by the way others have coped with their strokes. I had no paralysis, no loss of speech, and was conscious all the time and I know that I am lucky to have "got off lightly".

However, I felt like a freak with my squinted eyes, and sunk more and more into depression, not wanting to leave the house, or look anyone in the eyes. I became more and more introverted. I became totally self pitying and my personality changed from happy go lucky and friendly, to spiteful, selfish and nasty.

My wife. My wonderful, supportive, beautiful, kind and patient wife, who had given up her profession to move across the world and who had spent many days and nights dealing with my tears and tantrums was eventually driven away by my tempers and my lack of attention towards her, due to my own self obsession and selfishness.

I look to the future now, hopefully with straight eyes and will always know that I was lucky to not be affected too much physically. But my message, to others would be, for what its worth, is sometimes your illness can affect others more than it impacts on yourself.

Thanks for listening.

Thanks to Liam 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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