Laura Wood, 20

I was 17 years old when I had my stroke, although I remember it as if it were yesterday it was almost four years ago now, in which time so much has happened that has changed my life that it feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

My stroke hit me out the blue as I was fooling around on the sofa before going to the gym. Rolling back off the arm of the chair I lay watching TV for a few moments before attempting to stand up – wooo, something wasn’t right. As I went to stand my head felt like a tonne of bricks, my vision blurry, and my body numb. All I could think of was to go to sleep, my brain was insisting. However, feeling like I’d been stabbed in the head I soon found this difficult and attempted to read thinking it would help me drift off more comfortably. I picked up a conveniently located Harry Potter book, which I had read countless times. Still feeling spaced out I started to read the top paragraph. No wait, I must not have been concentrating, I’ll read it again. No wait… I’m still not taking it in. I can see the words, understand the words, but they aren’t registering. What a minute what’s going on here?! Must just be… too... tired... zzzzzzz.

“LAURA, DINNERS READY!”

I heard mother shouting from the kitchen as I woke up, feeling a little disorientated I stood up. And fell back down again. Idiot, I thought, must have slept at a funny angle and my legs got pins and needles. I rubbed my face to try and wake me up thinking I was still half asleep, and stood up again. I felt heavy and uncoordinated as I stumbled through to the kitchen and plonked myself down in front of a plate of lasagne. I shook my head a few times trying to waken myself up again, mother asked if I was okay and laughed as she asked what I’d been doing all that time. I laughed as well, as I thought ‘oh I’ve just been asleep in the living room’. I didn’t speak as I was still giving my head a shake to get rid of the ‘drowsiness’ but mother kept asking questions to each of them I had an answer in my head ready to say. I laughed at my generally confused state and reached for a glass of juice. No, I’ll reach again, I forgot to move my arm that time. No, hang on, why isn’t my arm moving. Okay, never mind, I’ll use my other hand. As I took a little sip it all dribbled out my mouth and down my chin. I laughed as my mother chucked me over a tea towel asking again what I’d been doing. I had my answer in my head as I dabbed my chin, ‘I’ve been asleep in the living room, mum’ but the more I thought about it the more I realised some cord had been disconnected between thinking something and saying it. I couldn’t speak. My laughing soon turned to tears as I realised something was wrong. I was young, I had so much to give and so much to achieve, university, travelling, marriage – why was this happening to me?

Before I knew it I was laid in the back of the car drifting in and out of consciousness s my parents sped to Dr Gray’s Hospital in Elgin, asking me continuously to repeat the letters of the alphabet. From there it was straight through immediate care to a blur of probing and accusations (“What drugs has she taken?!”), x-rays and CT scans, blood tests and injections, and, finally, bedtime and sleeping pills. The intense headache was throbbing the left hand side of my head, my arm was still lifeless and my voice still trapped as I listened to the strange noises of the ward around me. During the night I watched through a gap in the curtains as an elderly lady in the bed beside me passed away after an agonising last fight against the effects of the stroke. From that moment on, I swore I would never let this beat me too.

Soon after I was transferred to the Neurology unit at Aberdeen Royal Infirmary for further testing and it was quickly discovered that I had a congenital heart defect in the form of a hole between the atriums where a clot escaped through and made its way to my brain. A PFO, they told me, 1 in 5 people have them tiny little things, nothing to worry about. It certainly explained a lot about my life, the palpitations, the headaches, the breathlessness. However, it was nothing compared to how it was after the stroke. Even after leaving hospital once my speech and mobility returned, the headaches continued day in day out. My walking pace was slow and my energy levels rock bottom but I insisted that I wanted to get back to normal life. I didn’t want to be ill so I pretended I was okay – no one would understand anyway. I went back to school far to soon. I was in my final year of Keith Grammar and wanted to get back into my life there - I was Head Girl, Scottish Champion Debater, Girls Hockey Captain, and Editor of the School Paper. I wanted to prove to myself that I was fine. And it backfired big style.

After months of ignoring the symptoms and not speaking to anybody, pushing my friends and family away and convincing myself of being able to do more than I physically and mentally could, it got too much for me and I publicly broke down and admitted defeat. I hated how I was a different person with different abilities. I didn’t want to change. I was scheduled to go into hospital to close the hole in my heart after being pushed up the priority list and I went into surgery just before Christmas feeling at an all time low but ready to get back on track. Only to be blown down again by the incompetence of A.R.I’s initial cardio testing. During surgery it was discovered that the hole in my heart which ARI told me was a small PFO between 1-5 mm, was in fact a large ASD around the size of a two pound coin and in a more delicate and complicated position. Due to this mistake the operation could not be completed and I was sent away for more testing and another three months of waiting.

In this time I discovered Different Strokes after listening to a BBC Radio 4 programme. I joined straight away, interested to hear other stories, as I had never spoken to anyone who had suffered a stroke before. I was sent an information pack which told me everything I needed to know, everything which the doctors failed to tell me. The hidden side of stroke – the denial, the proving yourself, the lack of acceptance of what has happened to you, it was all ringing alarm bells to me. I was soon inundated with emails from all around the world, words of encouragement and advice on how to get through the tough times. The times where you have been ill for so long that you can’t remember what it feels like to be normal, the times where the light at the end of the corridor is too far away to reach. I was not the only person this was happening to, and there were people worse off than me. I was no longer questioning why it happened, and starting accepting that I happened for a reason and I am a stronger person for it now.

I built myself back up properly from then on. My heart surgery was successfully completed in the springtime and I accepted my weakness and took time to recover. Although this was probably less out of will power, and more out of a lack of physical strength and energy! But I felt good; I was on the right track. I had my university application accepted, I started helping other people through the charity to give them advice on how to get through the recovery process, and I started integrating back into school and social life. I had taught myself how to write again in time for my exams (although judging by my hand writing, perhaps I accidentally taught myself ancient hieroglyphics) and started taking things at my own pace using the philosophy of building slowing to make it stronger. And it worked!

Once fully recovered from my heart operation I did a fundraising skydive for Different Strokes – an ultimate achievement considering I was scared of heights! I managed to raise £1000 for the charity, as well as a massive amount of awareness. The advertisement I did in papers started an investigation into the neglect of my case after I left hospital after my stroke – both Elgin and Aberdeen had failed to give me any follow up treatment and after care (no district nurse, no physiotherapy, no psychiatrist or councillor, no information booklets, no nothing). It certainly explained a lot, but instead of pursuing a path of suing the health service I chose to adopt an approach where by I can prevent the horrible recovery process that I endeavoured happening to anyone else. I managed to get myself through the hardest time of my life and I am happy to take all credit for that as it made me a stronger person, despite taking me to my weakest. I am now a third year student in the Management School at the University of Edinburgh, I have travelled to the Caribbean to help in poverty regions of the country and I am heading to Brazil this summer to teach orphans in Rio De Janeiro. I have also just completed a second fundraising effort for Different Strokes, this time a Half Marathon which I trained effortlessly for to ensure I could run the entire way. I raised £400 of hard earned students money (or overdraft and loans should I say!) which I know will go a long way in not only helping stroke survivors but also broadening the awareness in society of the threat of strokes in young people. I now accept that what happened to me happened for a reason, and I can appreciate the person I am today because of it. I wouldn’t want to be any other way and I can finally say, after years of struggling, I am happy and confident and looking forward to a healthy future.

Thank You.
Laura Wood

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