How do you recognize when it is you are having Stroke? How do you react when you are having Stroke?
All these can be readily answered, with prescribed ways to handle yourself, given the right circumstances. But from my personal experience, when it hits, it doesn't take a whole long while before the effects grab at you and leave you helpless.
I remember a story from Jason, my bed-neighbor (in Ward 18 in Changi Hospital), whereby his second Stroke (yes, it happens twice in your life) hit him while he was about to go to work. He was locked in his own home alone for nearly seven hours, before police came to bang-down the front door of his house to get to him.
Apparently he had the notion to call his office (having the experience from the first Stroke, he was prepared) while lying on the floor from the effects of Stroke, and apparently the story went that his secretary thought it was a prank joke played on her on the phone, as his speech had by then was affected (when I first knew him in the ward, his speech was badly slurred). He got thru subsequently it seems.
Being alone when it happens? Man, that story sends chills down my spine.
On the other end of the spectrum, I was told another occurrence, this time by Alex, my bed-neighbor in St Andrews. Apparently he had experienced the event throughout an entire day, and not know about it! He even continued at work, and drove the car home. Until an uneasy feeling (and as well advise from his wife) made him visit the doctor's the next day, who promptly told him he had Stroke!
Not knowing you've got it, and still carry on with the day? Spine-chills, you get the picture.
Regardless of how extremely discomforting or even cluelessly uneventful, the effects of Stroke ultimately leaves a person paralyzed to a certain degree, and steps need to be taken to rehabilitate and make that right again. Rehabilitation is "after the fact", and as necessary as it is, this is not what the post is about.
Jason's speech got better and better within the month I was lying beside him (hence he could tell me his story), while Alex's ability to walk improved as the days went on, while we were both doing rehab, within the month we spent together in the same ward.
Yes, there is hope for recovery, and yes Stroke is devastating. But what may be different from each other, is how and when Stroke happened, and how some stories are absolutely different, or the same altogether.
Here are some "simple" warning signs of a Stroke (via Snopes.com):
- Sudden numbness or weakness of the face, arm or leg, especially on one side of the body.
- Sudden confusion, trouble speaking, or understanding.
- Sudden trouble seeing in one of both eyes.
- Sudden trouble walking, dizziness, loss of balance or coordination.
- Sudden, severe headache with no known cause.
You would notice ALL of the above has "Sudden" mentioned. Simply because generally Stroke hits you quick and you feel the effects just as quick (although not in the case of Alex ;p). Essentially, Stroke happens when blood flow to your brain is disrupted, which affects all or some of the points mentioned above. Quite ironically, it is the literal metaphor or someone sneaking up behind you and SUDDENLY attacks you by the neck ~ because that is what Stroke literally does, with the veins most times situated at the back of the neck being affected!
For me, I had headaches first, followed by numbness on my right-side, followed by loss of balance and sight, and eventually speech. [How it begun for me].
I really do not know for a fact how to even get prepared for this. Have your telephone near you always? Always be near other folks? All I or anyone else can do, is to spread the word and let folks know about what needs to be done. Know that the first 24 hours is crucial, so don't dally about, not that you have time to anyways!
Seriously, when all of the above hits you suddenly, it really needs you to have strength of mind to no freakout and to execute even the simplest task of calling for help, be it on phone, or screaming out to people around you. Hell I was clueless about my condition to even begun to freakout (which now, sorta freaks me out a little), but I thank my graces everyday, that I still lived with my parents, and that my dad and sister were present in the room, when I had my episode.
Cheers
Andy
P/S: I had the notion for this article while having a conversation with a rehab-volunteer today. Eric asked me how it begun, and I realized not a whole lot of folks ask that (well, folks "in the know" of course), while most folks outside of the illness are more concerned with "what lead to it". I would not deny "Prevention" might perhaps be a good "ciure" to Stroke, but perhaps an educated knowledge of it, can help as well.
Showing posts with label pre-stroke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pre-stroke. Show all posts
18.3.11
9.3.11
Of Self Vanity and Growing Up With Hair
"Vanity". An oft utilized word to describe one's attempt to look more than well and good, to the world around them.
"Vanity", to a Stroke victim (or at least me) is the last thing on my mind, even if it was the first in my days before.
Loads of folks used to ask me; "Why keep long hair?", which my answer was simple; "Because I am vain." To which many a folks could not grapple the straight forward answer with. I'd explain further that since I am not a "handsome man", I'd rather be a "unique-looking man" because of my long-hair (and as well beard ;p). Again, most folks cannot seem to grasp that concept, which I find extremely strange.
Frankly, I am not THAT vain enough I will work out and have swish ads or rock-hard biceps, I am purely, just "lazy-vain" in that instance, I reckon ;p .. anyways...
Lying in the hospital bed, the last thing on my mind was any sense of vanity or "looking well", in any way shape or form whatsoever, as are most patients, I surmise. I'm not going to comb my hair early in the morning because I wanna look well for the doctors or nurses. I'm not gonna worry if my shirt was well pressed to greet visitors for the day. Frankly, I do't really care if I looked well in the least bit, besides having the ability to walk free again then! My priorities have changed since the medical-event (FYI: I've decided to call it the "medical-event" because it is hardly an illness or sickness, this happenstance I call Stroke).
Tis funny I mentioned the long hair earlier in the post, as the "evolution" of which, happen to have paralleled my personal "growth" stages these past four months.
[I do not look all that awesome in a braid, do I? @ CGH]
When I first had Stroke, the longest part of my hair near reached my waist (I did not trim the hair, hence the wild growings). Lying in bed, I remember the nurses braiding my hair, because it was difficult to maintain, while giving my sponge baths (no, I did not enjoy my sponge baths) in the early days of Stroke. Being braided was funny only but for a coupla days, then from a Chinese-warrior soldier, I had become a wretched looking poor country folk, when the strands of hair became disheveled.
Keeping my hair long for a span of 5 years, I reckon I had become very attached to the comfort long hair provided. (I loved the feeling of hair sweeping pass my nap, truth be told). A decade ago I've kept my hair long for a couple of years, before National Service came a knocking, and I'd shorn my locks to fit the mold, like many a Singaporean men in Reservist. And I'd realized having my long hair now, had become a "security blanket" somewhat, or perhaps a "shield" I had possessed, that kept me blocked from everyone outside my world.
Truth be told, not many a folk like to chat with a guy with long hair (and beard) hahahaha.
But long hair and Stroke, did not mix. So when someone offered to cut my hair in the Ward, I'd surprisingly agreed to have it done. At that point, I wasn't exactly in the mood to be vain, yah know? I had just wanted manageable hair, that did not get in the way of me recovering. There no longer was sense of comfort, but a burden of the past, that had still clung unto me.
[My "Mad Violinist" 'Do, but without the violin]
Ironically, the first hair cut I had in five years, was not exactly a pleasurable one. Till now I refer to it as the "Mad Chinese Violinist" haircut. Being totally racist (hey, I'm Chinese in the first place, so don't need to go on a rampage here!). The wavy locks made me look like a dude trying to be hip, with said locks flowingly jumping as I performed on my violin actively (no, I do not play the violin). Maybe I'd seen the hairstyle on such a person on the telly or something, but nothing pops into my conscious-mind, so that is that.
I might have made some wrong turns in my journey, but I know what I want, tis just trying to ind the way to get there as fast, without the wrong turns.
Vanity did somewhat reared it's ugly head around that time, as I had become quite conscious of how I looked in that hairstyle! Not in a decade have I felt like that! It was so "bad", I had even a comb in my drawer in the hospital! I had not carried a comb for 5 years and now this? I was flabbergasted went in fact I should be more worried about learning to walk again!
A chance came when I decided I wanted to have a crew-cut. I've always wished I had a bald-'do.but never had the courage to, remembering the time when I did indeed have a bald-look, was when I was 18-ish year old, and cut my hair for the Army, and looked like an Alien Conehead with a sharp-dome! (But then again I had a 28 inch waist and a jawline to die for … *man-sob*). Now that I've past forty and possess a respectable waistline (*cough*), perhaps I' not have a conehead as before innit?
[Having my hair cut crew at Changi General Hospital]
I'd loved my new crewcut. Suddenly, nothing else seemed to matter then. Free from my decade of burden and worldly vanity, I feet free to do anything! And by anything, it included learning to walk and balance again. Not having hair gave me the confidence to meet people face-front again, ironically so. And I did. And maybe the eye-patch helped too (in looking "unique") and perhaps folks all around were extremely helpful in providing "positive reinforcement" when it came to helping patience regain their confidence and feeling good .. but it didn't matter to me then, I had my confidence to move forward, and nobody can ever ask for more than that.
[Leaving St Andrew Community Hospital on Christmas Eve]
Fast forward the now, with my hair slightly grown out, I'd still use a comb to kept it intact (altho never do carry one along with me) and I sort of like it where it's at, although a tad longish, and near everyday waking up with a bad-hair-day, I'd still trudge along as best I can.
Hair aside, having being to sit in a wheelchair all these while, and left me donning tees and board-shorts, because frankly, I'm sitting down anyways, yeh? But on Monday, I had returned my leased wheelchair and begun walking free with a walking cane (I consider "limping" mildly still "walking" ;p), and I had a Dental Appointment Tuesday, which had both made me comb my hair, and wear something else other than a board-short, because I ha wanted to look decent in public ~ by gawds I was VAIN again!
Tis somewhat like re-living my life decade again, a new lease of life I can journey forth into, and that is a chance I intend to walk well and good into, IMHO, hair-combs be damned!
Cheers
Andy
"Vanity", to a Stroke victim (or at least me) is the last thing on my mind, even if it was the first in my days before.
Loads of folks used to ask me; "Why keep long hair?", which my answer was simple; "Because I am vain." To which many a folks could not grapple the straight forward answer with. I'd explain further that since I am not a "handsome man", I'd rather be a "unique-looking man" because of my long-hair (and as well beard ;p). Again, most folks cannot seem to grasp that concept, which I find extremely strange.
Frankly, I am not THAT vain enough I will work out and have swish ads or rock-hard biceps, I am purely, just "lazy-vain" in that instance, I reckon ;p .. anyways...
Lying in the hospital bed, the last thing on my mind was any sense of vanity or "looking well", in any way shape or form whatsoever, as are most patients, I surmise. I'm not going to comb my hair early in the morning because I wanna look well for the doctors or nurses. I'm not gonna worry if my shirt was well pressed to greet visitors for the day. Frankly, I do't really care if I looked well in the least bit, besides having the ability to walk free again then! My priorities have changed since the medical-event (FYI: I've decided to call it the "medical-event" because it is hardly an illness or sickness, this happenstance I call Stroke).
Tis funny I mentioned the long hair earlier in the post, as the "evolution" of which, happen to have paralleled my personal "growth" stages these past four months.
[I do not look all that awesome in a braid, do I? @ CGH]
When I first had Stroke, the longest part of my hair near reached my waist (I did not trim the hair, hence the wild growings). Lying in bed, I remember the nurses braiding my hair, because it was difficult to maintain, while giving my sponge baths (no, I did not enjoy my sponge baths) in the early days of Stroke. Being braided was funny only but for a coupla days, then from a Chinese-warrior soldier, I had become a wretched looking poor country folk, when the strands of hair became disheveled.
Keeping my hair long for a span of 5 years, I reckon I had become very attached to the comfort long hair provided. (I loved the feeling of hair sweeping pass my nap, truth be told). A decade ago I've kept my hair long for a couple of years, before National Service came a knocking, and I'd shorn my locks to fit the mold, like many a Singaporean men in Reservist. And I'd realized having my long hair now, had become a "security blanket" somewhat, or perhaps a "shield" I had possessed, that kept me blocked from everyone outside my world.
Truth be told, not many a folk like to chat with a guy with long hair (and beard) hahahaha.
But long hair and Stroke, did not mix. So when someone offered to cut my hair in the Ward, I'd surprisingly agreed to have it done. At that point, I wasn't exactly in the mood to be vain, yah know? I had just wanted manageable hair, that did not get in the way of me recovering. There no longer was sense of comfort, but a burden of the past, that had still clung unto me.
[My "Mad Violinist" 'Do, but without the violin]
Ironically, the first hair cut I had in five years, was not exactly a pleasurable one. Till now I refer to it as the "Mad Chinese Violinist" haircut. Being totally racist (hey, I'm Chinese in the first place, so don't need to go on a rampage here!). The wavy locks made me look like a dude trying to be hip, with said locks flowingly jumping as I performed on my violin actively (no, I do not play the violin). Maybe I'd seen the hairstyle on such a person on the telly or something, but nothing pops into my conscious-mind, so that is that.
I might have made some wrong turns in my journey, but I know what I want, tis just trying to ind the way to get there as fast, without the wrong turns.
Vanity did somewhat reared it's ugly head around that time, as I had become quite conscious of how I looked in that hairstyle! Not in a decade have I felt like that! It was so "bad", I had even a comb in my drawer in the hospital! I had not carried a comb for 5 years and now this? I was flabbergasted went in fact I should be more worried about learning to walk again!
A chance came when I decided I wanted to have a crew-cut. I've always wished I had a bald-'do.but never had the courage to, remembering the time when I did indeed have a bald-look, was when I was 18-ish year old, and cut my hair for the Army, and looked like an Alien Conehead with a sharp-dome! (But then again I had a 28 inch waist and a jawline to die for … *man-sob*). Now that I've past forty and possess a respectable waistline (*cough*), perhaps I' not have a conehead as before innit?
[Having my hair cut crew at Changi General Hospital]
I'd loved my new crewcut. Suddenly, nothing else seemed to matter then. Free from my decade of burden and worldly vanity, I feet free to do anything! And by anything, it included learning to walk and balance again. Not having hair gave me the confidence to meet people face-front again, ironically so. And I did. And maybe the eye-patch helped too (in looking "unique") and perhaps folks all around were extremely helpful in providing "positive reinforcement" when it came to helping patience regain their confidence and feeling good .. but it didn't matter to me then, I had my confidence to move forward, and nobody can ever ask for more than that.
[Leaving St Andrew Community Hospital on Christmas Eve]
Fast forward the now, with my hair slightly grown out, I'd still use a comb to kept it intact (altho never do carry one along with me) and I sort of like it where it's at, although a tad longish, and near everyday waking up with a bad-hair-day, I'd still trudge along as best I can.
Hair aside, having being to sit in a wheelchair all these while, and left me donning tees and board-shorts, because frankly, I'm sitting down anyways, yeh? But on Monday, I had returned my leased wheelchair and begun walking free with a walking cane (I consider "limping" mildly still "walking" ;p), and I had a Dental Appointment Tuesday, which had both made me comb my hair, and wear something else other than a board-short, because I ha wanted to look decent in public ~ by gawds I was VAIN again!
Tis somewhat like re-living my life decade again, a new lease of life I can journey forth into, and that is a chance I intend to walk well and good into, IMHO, hair-combs be damned!
Cheers
Andy
6.3.11
Stroke @ 41
It was a regular afternoon on October 19th 2010, just like any regular afternoon … except that it would be the start of something that would change my life …
I had woken up later than usual (past 12 noon) and was on the family dining table working on my laptop, alongside my sister on hers, while waiting for our dad to make lunch. It had been near two in the afternoon, and I had strangely not taken any "breakfast" before then, and was extremely famished! I remember prepping a blog-post for the WIP sculpt of The Yellow Dino x My Tummy Toys collabo figure, and leaving it to publish laters right after lunch. It was to be the last thing I had seen on the computer browser for at least one plus month.
We had then cleared the table for lunch soon afters. The moment my bowl of soup noodles got put down, I had felt a sudden piercing headache. This did not seem as different sensation than before, but nevertheless painful and extreme. I had then gone to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of Panadol aspirin pills, and popped them immediately.
The moment I came back to the living room area (where the dining table was, go figure), I had felt a sudden cold sweat and sensation enveloping me ~ the sensation is liken to that of the moment you know you have "flu", and when goosepimples breakout all over your body.
I sat down, and in a split-second, I ended up cradling myself on the sofa, and telling my folks I wasn't feeling very good. Both my dad and sis took turns to check my forehead for temperature. Know that at that point, no one (including myself) knew what was happening to me. The first thing that actually came into my mind, was that I had an allergic reaction to the aspirin I gulped earlier, although I had previously taken them with no reaction at all whatsoever. (Months later, during a clinic consultancy and check up, the doctor said an allergic reaction would not have been so immediate after taking the pills).
In a mere span of (about) 5 minutes, I had gotten from perfectly normal, to sick as a dog. And as I laid cradling myself even more on the sofa, we knew something was getting really wrong. By this time, my head was beginning to spin a bit, so it was prudent if I made my way, post haste!
We had decided to go to the neighborhood Accident & Emergency (A&E) at Changi Hospital to check what was wrong with me. At this point I had still mobility by my side, although I struggled to put on my olive green tee (with a yingyan Mickey Mouse logo out front), and slipped on a pair of grey bermudas over my shorts. My limbs were beginning to ache and had trouble getting dressed, if only a tad.
Calling a taxi-cab via phone, we went out of the house, including dad and sis. Mum was stilll at work, and i remembered saying not to call her until everything is sorted. No point getting everyone worked up for this, yeh?
It has begun to drizzle outside. "What a great day to be sick!", I'd thought. Having a nap amidst the rain after filling my hungry-belly with a bowl of hot noodle soup, would've been a great notion indeed! The day seemed normal enough, and the perks of being self-employed (besides the abject lack of self-security and ability to nuture or mate), was that I was the master of my own time and schedule, and hence "life", innit?
Ironically, just before leaving the house, I had asked for an empty plastic bag to be brought along, as I had felt a tad "puke", what with the head-spinning and all (A plastic bag is also a near-perfect accompaniment to being drunk :p). In a span of about 10 minutes, I had reached the bottom of my flat (I live on the second floor with my family) and my headspinning by then had gotten really out of control. I no longer could stand up straight, and had to be carried on both sides by dad and sis, into the cab. "Man, that's some powerful spoilt aspirin!", I hadsurmised, amidst the by-now massive head-spins.
I remembered very briefly the journey itself to the hospital. Everything sped by as fast as my headspin, and I could barely puke into the plastic bag even tho I was dizzy as heck. At that point I was thinking this was getting to be a bad trip, but that it'll be over shortly, and I could get back to lunch (hey, I was famished!) and as well publish Yudi's toy (hey, info needs to get out there, and as well I was so proud of Yudi himself for the toy! LOL).
I was told later the cab driver had sensed something was wrong, and had driven promptly and safely quick to my destination (I thank him from the bottom of my heart for reacting appropriately). The ten minutes' journey ended as soon as it begun.
By the time we had reached the car-landing porch of A&E at Changi, I could not longer walk and had to be wheeled in via wheelchair (they line up a series of them by the entrance, just in case for any emergencies - worked well for me tho!). Seems the "adventure" has just started, as the wait at A&E is a wholly different situation!
I did not know how long exactly I sat in my wheelchair for the duration of waiting to see a doctor. I remember clasping unto the empty plastic bag for dear life, while puking water into it. By then the headspins were continuously 180* and the dizziness made me puke, and remember, I had not have eaten anything before then? Nothing to puke out except water!
I was told later, folks clutching tissues to their runny noses, went in before me. "Emergency" my ass! Sitting and waiting at the waiting area, I had by then become extremely scared and worried. By this time, my vision was getting blurred. I could perhaps make out shapes in front of me, but could no longer recognized their faces. From this point, I was freaking out. "Fuck! This is not getting any better anytime soon! Where's the goddamed doctor?"
In my blurred side-vision, I could see someone coming over by my side, and asking me for my name and I/C number, for which my first thought-reaction was; "WTF! I'm drooling into a bag hung from my fucking face and you're asking me for my fucking name?" ~ I garbled a few words and sentences (amidst drooling of course) and recognized at that time, my speech wasn't that clear. Freak out much?
Sis raised her voice at the person and threatened him with the responsibility of my sickeness, and I was promptly wheeled in for "consultation" shortly afters. I remember at that point I was majorly freaked out, and had indeed by then feared for my life. I remember asking my sister to cremate me when I die, as I was being wheeled in. THAT was how fearful and freaked out I was then.
I recognized later that the person was no doubt trying to authenticate my level of sickness and ability (or so I surmise) and that he probably had a form to fill and needed to update the doctors. Nevertheless I could never really forgive him for his lack of "EQ" or being able to assess my abilities straight up.
SIDENOTE: If at a A&E and you are indeed in need of being attended to, MAKE NOISE. Get the attention you NEED. "Politeness" might get you a smile and "thank you" back, but fucked if it'll get you looked at promptly. I am not at an A&E to shop for tasty chocolates or buying a cup of over-priced beverage, but if the person/s before me with runny noses are getting looked at instead of a truly sickened individual scrunched up on a wheelchair, then someone definitely needs to be yelled at.
In the consolation room, I was asked a serious of questions I now no longer can remember either the questions or the answers to. EVERYTHING had become extremely blurry then, on top of the room spinning (when in fact the room did not spin, but was my visual senses instead). I remember being wheeled back-lying-down-flat to different rooms, and even at one point waited outside a particular room for quite sometime. Very drama! Like hospital shows (but without the clarity to see the ceiling lights, so wasn't that "drama" actually…). Besides recognizing later I was put into a wrong operating / consultation bed (they moved me twice), I have zero recognition of what had happened the 24 hours later, even until now.
I was told later, a doctor appeared to both my dad and sis and told them that I was in observation, with the next 72 hours critical (if it was 48 hours, I was fucked bad), in such it would either mean resolution, or an operation cutting into my brain with an undesirable rate of recovery (or sumsach like that). They were told I was suffering from Stroke.
Until then, none of us expected what I had, although my dad had his suspicions.
Know that in Stroke, the basic reality is either [A] blood going up to the brain had been stopped at a point, and the functions in that area are affected and they react (hence lack of balance, speech and vision aka the symptoms I had experienced), or [B] blood going up to the brain has been blocked and the veins had burst - which would have left me immediately well fucked and drooling with aplomb.
The headache was the only symptom leading up to it. I remember eons ago when my master-hand might "freeze" for a moment or two, which got better immediately after massaging it ~ which no one could attest if that was a symptom though. It was discovered soon afters that I had a deadly combo of High Blood Pressure, High Cholestral, and a newly discovered (mild) Diabetes, which helped do me in.
I had just recently turned 41 years old in September, and had the time of my life in both Thailand before then, and somewhat "celebrated" in Jakarta on the day of the birthday (Chocolate & Cheese-Melt on Toast, anyone?). Man, health-karmas' a bitch huh? :p
This blog is named "Stroke41", to honor that particular timeline, and to remind me personally of the time period. In a lot of ways, the "best" "birthday present" I could have received, besides the obvious hurdle to my life and habits.
People tell me now I had suffered a "mild" Stroke, and that I was "lucky". In my earlier days, I would've told them to go "fuck themselves", but now, I thank my graces for the ability of limited motor-functions, and as well being able to eat and talk - none of which I possessed true control of, when I woke up shortly at the Acute Stroke Unit, in Ward 18, Changi General Hospital.
Cheers
Andy.
I had woken up later than usual (past 12 noon) and was on the family dining table working on my laptop, alongside my sister on hers, while waiting for our dad to make lunch. It had been near two in the afternoon, and I had strangely not taken any "breakfast" before then, and was extremely famished! I remember prepping a blog-post for the WIP sculpt of The Yellow Dino x My Tummy Toys collabo figure, and leaving it to publish laters right after lunch. It was to be the last thing I had seen on the computer browser for at least one plus month.
We had then cleared the table for lunch soon afters. The moment my bowl of soup noodles got put down, I had felt a sudden piercing headache. This did not seem as different sensation than before, but nevertheless painful and extreme. I had then gone to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of Panadol aspirin pills, and popped them immediately.
The moment I came back to the living room area (where the dining table was, go figure), I had felt a sudden cold sweat and sensation enveloping me ~ the sensation is liken to that of the moment you know you have "flu", and when goosepimples breakout all over your body.
I sat down, and in a split-second, I ended up cradling myself on the sofa, and telling my folks I wasn't feeling very good. Both my dad and sis took turns to check my forehead for temperature. Know that at that point, no one (including myself) knew what was happening to me. The first thing that actually came into my mind, was that I had an allergic reaction to the aspirin I gulped earlier, although I had previously taken them with no reaction at all whatsoever. (Months later, during a clinic consultancy and check up, the doctor said an allergic reaction would not have been so immediate after taking the pills).
In a mere span of (about) 5 minutes, I had gotten from perfectly normal, to sick as a dog. And as I laid cradling myself even more on the sofa, we knew something was getting really wrong. By this time, my head was beginning to spin a bit, so it was prudent if I made my way, post haste!
We had decided to go to the neighborhood Accident & Emergency (A&E) at Changi Hospital to check what was wrong with me. At this point I had still mobility by my side, although I struggled to put on my olive green tee (with a yingyan Mickey Mouse logo out front), and slipped on a pair of grey bermudas over my shorts. My limbs were beginning to ache and had trouble getting dressed, if only a tad.
Calling a taxi-cab via phone, we went out of the house, including dad and sis. Mum was stilll at work, and i remembered saying not to call her until everything is sorted. No point getting everyone worked up for this, yeh?
It has begun to drizzle outside. "What a great day to be sick!", I'd thought. Having a nap amidst the rain after filling my hungry-belly with a bowl of hot noodle soup, would've been a great notion indeed! The day seemed normal enough, and the perks of being self-employed (besides the abject lack of self-security and ability to nuture or mate), was that I was the master of my own time and schedule, and hence "life", innit?
Ironically, just before leaving the house, I had asked for an empty plastic bag to be brought along, as I had felt a tad "puke", what with the head-spinning and all (A plastic bag is also a near-perfect accompaniment to being drunk :p). In a span of about 10 minutes, I had reached the bottom of my flat (I live on the second floor with my family) and my headspinning by then had gotten really out of control. I no longer could stand up straight, and had to be carried on both sides by dad and sis, into the cab. "Man, that's some powerful spoilt aspirin!", I hadsurmised, amidst the by-now massive head-spins.
I remembered very briefly the journey itself to the hospital. Everything sped by as fast as my headspin, and I could barely puke into the plastic bag even tho I was dizzy as heck. At that point I was thinking this was getting to be a bad trip, but that it'll be over shortly, and I could get back to lunch (hey, I was famished!) and as well publish Yudi's toy (hey, info needs to get out there, and as well I was so proud of Yudi himself for the toy! LOL).
I was told later the cab driver had sensed something was wrong, and had driven promptly and safely quick to my destination (I thank him from the bottom of my heart for reacting appropriately). The ten minutes' journey ended as soon as it begun.
By the time we had reached the car-landing porch of A&E at Changi, I could not longer walk and had to be wheeled in via wheelchair (they line up a series of them by the entrance, just in case for any emergencies - worked well for me tho!). Seems the "adventure" has just started, as the wait at A&E is a wholly different situation!
I did not know how long exactly I sat in my wheelchair for the duration of waiting to see a doctor. I remember clasping unto the empty plastic bag for dear life, while puking water into it. By then the headspins were continuously 180* and the dizziness made me puke, and remember, I had not have eaten anything before then? Nothing to puke out except water!
I was told later, folks clutching tissues to their runny noses, went in before me. "Emergency" my ass! Sitting and waiting at the waiting area, I had by then become extremely scared and worried. By this time, my vision was getting blurred. I could perhaps make out shapes in front of me, but could no longer recognized their faces. From this point, I was freaking out. "Fuck! This is not getting any better anytime soon! Where's the goddamed doctor?"
In my blurred side-vision, I could see someone coming over by my side, and asking me for my name and I/C number, for which my first thought-reaction was; "WTF! I'm drooling into a bag hung from my fucking face and you're asking me for my fucking name?" ~ I garbled a few words and sentences (amidst drooling of course) and recognized at that time, my speech wasn't that clear. Freak out much?
Sis raised her voice at the person and threatened him with the responsibility of my sickeness, and I was promptly wheeled in for "consultation" shortly afters. I remember at that point I was majorly freaked out, and had indeed by then feared for my life. I remember asking my sister to cremate me when I die, as I was being wheeled in. THAT was how fearful and freaked out I was then.
I recognized later that the person was no doubt trying to authenticate my level of sickness and ability (or so I surmise) and that he probably had a form to fill and needed to update the doctors. Nevertheless I could never really forgive him for his lack of "EQ" or being able to assess my abilities straight up.
SIDENOTE: If at a A&E and you are indeed in need of being attended to, MAKE NOISE. Get the attention you NEED. "Politeness" might get you a smile and "thank you" back, but fucked if it'll get you looked at promptly. I am not at an A&E to shop for tasty chocolates or buying a cup of over-priced beverage, but if the person/s before me with runny noses are getting looked at instead of a truly sickened individual scrunched up on a wheelchair, then someone definitely needs to be yelled at.
In the consolation room, I was asked a serious of questions I now no longer can remember either the questions or the answers to. EVERYTHING had become extremely blurry then, on top of the room spinning (when in fact the room did not spin, but was my visual senses instead). I remember being wheeled back-lying-down-flat to different rooms, and even at one point waited outside a particular room for quite sometime. Very drama! Like hospital shows (but without the clarity to see the ceiling lights, so wasn't that "drama" actually…). Besides recognizing later I was put into a wrong operating / consultation bed (they moved me twice), I have zero recognition of what had happened the 24 hours later, even until now.
I was told later, a doctor appeared to both my dad and sis and told them that I was in observation, with the next 72 hours critical (if it was 48 hours, I was fucked bad), in such it would either mean resolution, or an operation cutting into my brain with an undesirable rate of recovery (or sumsach like that). They were told I was suffering from Stroke.
Until then, none of us expected what I had, although my dad had his suspicions.
Know that in Stroke, the basic reality is either [A] blood going up to the brain had been stopped at a point, and the functions in that area are affected and they react (hence lack of balance, speech and vision aka the symptoms I had experienced), or [B] blood going up to the brain has been blocked and the veins had burst - which would have left me immediately well fucked and drooling with aplomb.
The headache was the only symptom leading up to it. I remember eons ago when my master-hand might "freeze" for a moment or two, which got better immediately after massaging it ~ which no one could attest if that was a symptom though. It was discovered soon afters that I had a deadly combo of High Blood Pressure, High Cholestral, and a newly discovered (mild) Diabetes, which helped do me in.
I had just recently turned 41 years old in September, and had the time of my life in both Thailand before then, and somewhat "celebrated" in Jakarta on the day of the birthday (Chocolate & Cheese-Melt on Toast, anyone?). Man, health-karmas' a bitch huh? :p
This blog is named "Stroke41", to honor that particular timeline, and to remind me personally of the time period. In a lot of ways, the "best" "birthday present" I could have received, besides the obvious hurdle to my life and habits.
People tell me now I had suffered a "mild" Stroke, and that I was "lucky". In my earlier days, I would've told them to go "fuck themselves", but now, I thank my graces for the ability of limited motor-functions, and as well being able to eat and talk - none of which I possessed true control of, when I woke up shortly at the Acute Stroke Unit, in Ward 18, Changi General Hospital.
Cheers
Andy.
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