Mike Palmer

I had always considered myself to be reasonably fit, I practiced Martial Arts twice every week, each session lasting for an hour. I would sweat like a pig from the effort, after each session I would go home and have a really long soak in the bath, I had found this would prevent my muscles from aching too badly the next day. That is how life was for years. Work long hours - sometimes up to 19 hours a day, Martial Arts twice a week if I could get home on time from work, sometimes this would not be possible so I would have to miss out on my favourite sport. Every night before bed I took my dog for a walk, he was a yellow labrador called Max, we enjoyed our walks, I would go about a mile or so at a brisk pace, my dog would walk off the lead. Then one night halfway around the walk my eyesight went, I could not see a thing, this was my first TIA. I closed my eyes for about 5 minutes not daring to move, after this time I opened my eyes and it was like someone was opening the blinds from the bottom up as my eyes cleared and I could see again. This happened another three times but I said nothing to my wife, as I did not know then what was going on.

On the Saturday morning or should I say late morning, I worked such long hours during the week I would have a long lie in at the weekends, I went down to the kitchen to make myself a coffee, and yes have a fag, I was greeted by Max as usual with his wagging tail. I made my coffee and took a sip, I started to choke and had to spit the coffee out, a further three attempts met with the same result. I got the mop and bucket and cleaned up the mess, went into the lounge and played a game of mah-jong on the computer. Not feeling so good I finished playing and shut the computer down and sat on the sofa to watch some TV. After a time my wife and daughter returned from shopping, my wife took one look and phoned for an ambulance, she said "you have had a stroke darling", I thought "well if the ambulance is coming I will have one last fag while I am waiting".

I never got to finish that fag, the ambulance arrived and I was taken off to Selly Oak Hospital, put into bed on the assessment unit, a consultant came to see me and told my wife "your husband has had a small stroke but he will be fine in 24 hours". I was then transferred to ward S.8, the stroke ward. Here I lay in bed for the next 13 days, not knowing what had happened and not able to move, all my left hand side was useless, no speech, and barely able to see from my left eye. My wife complained "my husband is getting worse, why hasn't he had a scan?" Then came the second lie, "our CAT scanner is out of order, and the nearest MRI scanner is also broken". Again my wife complained and was told, "we will take your husband for his scan in the morning", this was done along with a doppler scan. The consultant said to my wife "too much damage, no chance of a recovery, your husband has had a large stroke". I misheard this, and asked my wife "what has a large trout got to do with it?" Also the carotid artery on the right side was blocked caused from years of smoking and high blood pressure, I was told my cholesterol levels were ridiculously high, I was later released to return home, then referred to Moseley Hall Hospital rehab unit. I spent the next 12 months having physio and speech therapy.

I was 52 years young when I had my stroke. When I was allowed home for a weekend break for the first time, I had to go upstairs on my hands and knees, and descend on my backside until my wife got new a banister and hand rails fitted. It must have looked quite funny reverting back to childhood, I think my wife used to lay awake at night in case I needed to get up for the loo. I almost caused her a heart attack when one day she was talking to her best pal on the phone and saw me standing at the top of the stairs, with a roar of "don't you dare move!" I stood rooted to the spot until she had finished her phone call. Still in the face of adversity we came out on top, eventually the new rails were fitted, then I could go up and down stairs as normal holding on for dear life.

Mike Palmer

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