A New Dawn

Mostly these days I write trivial posts, but it is useful sometimes to remember what started me blogging…

7th February, 2016, was also a Sunday. When I got up, I didn’t feel right. But I didn’t feel wrong. I wasn’t in any pain. We had arranged to go to the cinema, and I didn’t want to disappoint. But I asked Mrs Bump to drive. I sat through the film, preoccupied, worrying.

I left it, to see if I felt better the next day. I didn’t. Mrs B harangued me to go to our GP. When I saw him, he thought “stroke”. By that time, I was having trouble walking. He told Mrs B to drive me to the hospital, asap. An ambulance? Forget it! You’re much quicker if you make your own way.

At the hospital, I saw a doctor, who did some tests and arranged for an MRI scan. Whatever he saw, he sent me home.

The rest of the day, I sat at home, worrying, for I was still none the wiser. The one thing we thought it could be, we’d been told it wasn’t.

Tuesday, worrying.

Wednesday, still no improvement, we repeated the process. Mrs B had to get me into the hospital building in a wheelchair by now.

This time, they admitted me. You hear about all these wonderful, clot-busting meds. Not for me. I figure that, by then, I had had the stroke four days earlier. Instead, I lay on the bed, totally unable to walk.

In hospital, they changed every med that I had been taking. If they made wholesale changes, then maybe I wasn’t on the right meds in the first place? Spilled milk. My “treatment” was physiotherapy for an hour a day. I underwent several tests, all of which were negative. In the end, the doctors concluded that it must have been caused by my underlying conditions.

After five weeks, the physiotherapists got me walking again, tentatively. I still had nothing in my arm. I thought, at the time, that the decision to discharge me was premature, but this is the health service that we have chosen. Rather than it being too little treatment, never again would I warrant that much of anybody’s attention.

The hospital arranged my return home. Finally, I saw my ambulance. They dispatched an emergency ambulance to take me home!

Arriving home, I had a pile of laundry. So, my first task was to start the washing machine. Bending down, I lost my balance and fell flat on my face. I was uninjured but it took ages before I figured how to lever myself back onto my feet.

One other thing I had missed was a bath. Just before looking forward, at last, to a proper night’s sleep, a nice, long soak. And… one last problem to be solved that day – how on earth do I get out of here?

Author: Mister Bump UK

Designed/developed IT systems in finance, but had a stroke in 2016, aged 48. Returned to developing mainly health-related software from home, plus some voluntary work. Married, with a grown-up, left-home daughter.

26 thoughts on “A New Dawn”

  1. I feel with you very much. Knowing that something was wrong and waiting until you know what it is. Some illnesses never heal completely and the only remedy is to get used to it and adapt. I found out 6 years ago that from the age of about 30, my life was spent in a progressive MS existence. Falling and not being able to stand again is a Democles sword over our heads.

    Liked by 2 people

        1. The pervading public opinion here is to restrict the size of the health budget. That has a knock-on effect that, when people finally need to use the service, they find it is poor. It’s quite sad, really.
          I think there should be a discussion about what the health service should and shouldn’t cover, but those things it does include, it should do them well.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. We don’t have a national health service or insurance system for everyone in Pakistan. But visiting the doctors is not that expensive. There are government hospitals which give free services to the people who cannot afford private hospitals. I think our system is much better than the developed world.

            Liked by 1 person

        1. I’m afraid I have come to the conclusion that when something like this happens, you are supposed to die. That sounds melodramatic, but the state offers very little support. Right the way through from rudimentary things like physio, to more advanced things like getting back into the workforce.

          Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow, five years to the day.It must bring back rotten memories. I have a friend who had a similar delay between the actual stroke and seeking treatment, consequently making it worse. A lesson we all need to learn I think.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. A good write despite the subject. I’ll not explain but most of what you describe I understand all too well. My opinions of different aspect of “American” healthcare are known. Presently two of the most medically advanced countries in the world, what a shame administration of those powers and skills to heal are not realized here and in “England.” I wish you continued improvement, and applaud your tenacity and spirit.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. It’s a hard thing to realize your body doesn’t cooperate. I finally fell enough times when my legs just gave out unexpectedly that a scooter and wheelchair were the safest way to go. Loss of independence in doing so is the worst part for me. But I’m a stubborn old lady anyway. Keep improving!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yeah we thought about that at first, but I was determined to walk again, even if it took the first year to walk up the road. It has, of course, improved, but I’m not sure what it will be like after lockdown. It’s all a bit skewed at the moment since we’re not really going out anyway.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I really appreciate your bringing me up to speed a bit – this is a good rundown of how it all went down in the beginning, Pete. It’s hard for me to imagine any of this – it’s not the sort of thing one ever expects to happen to him/her (obviously).


    Liked by 1 person

    1. You don’t surprise me. Until I had my own stroke I had no appreciation, I was young (relatevely) and very fit (so I thought). This despite a stroke being the start of my father’s problems, although I’d left home by then.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Wow, what a testament to your unconquerable soul. When will healthcare become humane? We need to care for each other better than this. Glad you have a partner to care for you in the absence of sane professional care. Thank you for sharing! ~KK

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, yeah, it’s basically permanent so there’s loads of lasting effects. I’m better in that I’m stronger, I keep my balance more etc. But, you know, it’s still there. But what can you do? I’m like you, just gotta play the hand I was dealt.

      Liked by 1 person

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