Louise Collins
Louise's Coast to Coast for the Stroke Association
Fundraising for Stroke Association
Story
My brain exploded without warning when I was 51. Somewhere in my noggin, an artery ballooned and burst when I was getting out of the car and I tumbled to the ground paralysed on my left side and with a headache that felt like a blow from an axe. Luckily I had help close to hand and I was whipped off to hospital for brain surgery.
On that day, the statistics were not in my favour - 15% of stroke victims die before getting to hospital. 40% don't survive the surgery. Of those who survive the stroke and the surgery, four out of seven recover with neurological or physical disabilities.
My first memory of being in hospital was thinking I was in France. I could see the car park but not the registration plates so I couldn't check where I actually was. And I couldn't understand why the blood pressure cuff was pumping up so frequently - couldn't the nurses get it right?
Then the slow process of being moved out of the High Dependency Unit at Addenbrooke and into the mainstream of hospital life began; details are still a bit hazy even now. Three and half weeks though later I was out. I certainly didn't feel like my old self, the internal me wasn't the same anymore. I was also fighting overwhelming fatigue so I turned to the internet for information. Apparently this post-stroke fatigue doesn't go away for some stroke survivors but I thought to myself 'Nobody dies from feeling tired and I'm not going to be a patient all my life' and that's when horse poop came to my rescue. I'm a vet so I have a few horses to look after. Every time I felt the fatigue creep over me, I'd drag my unwilling body out to the stables and either shovel horse poop or haul bales of hay around until the physical activity chased away the feeling of fatigue. Three weeks or so later, the waves of fatigue abated. I still wasn't right though. I had a week of nervous agitation when I barely slept but didn't feel tired. I also fretted about my balance and physical coordination until I was well enough to climb on a horse one day and, to my delight, not fall off the other side or gallop off wildly in all directions. Another vivid memory is waking up one morning and feeling like my old self again, that was a good feeling.
No driving though, not for six months at least. That's what drove me to buy a bike and start cycling and which brings me, three years later, to my Coast to Coast cycle ride this September. I'm doing it twice over seven days with my brother for company - 140 miles going west for the Stroke Association and coming back 140 miles east again for the Animal Welfare Foundation, an organisation run by vets that promotes the welfare of animals. My horses and dogs helped me with my welfare and recovery, this is the least I can do as a vet to pay back my debt to them.
I was so lucky. Lucky I had quick care, lucky my aneurysm was accessible to the surgeons, lucky I survived the brain surgery and doubly lucky to survive without physical disability or lasting functional deficits. That's the story of my stroke of luck. I hope you'll support my efforts to give something back to the support systems that allow me to enjoy my unlikely good fortune.
On that day, the statistics were not in my favour - 15% of stroke victims die before getting to hospital. 40% don't survive the surgery. Of those who survive the stroke and the surgery, four out of seven recover with neurological or physical disabilities.
My first memory of being in hospital was thinking I was in France. I could see the car park but not the registration plates so I couldn't check where I actually was. And I couldn't understand why the blood pressure cuff was pumping up so frequently - couldn't the nurses get it right?
Then the slow process of being moved out of the High Dependency Unit at Addenbrooke and into the mainstream of hospital life began; details are still a bit hazy even now. Three and half weeks though later I was out. I certainly didn't feel like my old self, the internal me wasn't the same anymore. I was also fighting overwhelming fatigue so I turned to the internet for information. Apparently this post-stroke fatigue doesn't go away for some stroke survivors but I thought to myself 'Nobody dies from feeling tired and I'm not going to be a patient all my life' and that's when horse poop came to my rescue. I'm a vet so I have a few horses to look after. Every time I felt the fatigue creep over me, I'd drag my unwilling body out to the stables and either shovel horse poop or haul bales of hay around until the physical activity chased away the feeling of fatigue. Three weeks or so later, the waves of fatigue abated. I still wasn't right though. I had a week of nervous agitation when I barely slept but didn't feel tired. I also fretted about my balance and physical coordination until I was well enough to climb on a horse one day and, to my delight, not fall off the other side or gallop off wildly in all directions. Another vivid memory is waking up one morning and feeling like my old self again, that was a good feeling.
No driving though, not for six months at least. That's what drove me to buy a bike and start cycling and which brings me, three years later, to my Coast to Coast cycle ride this September. I'm doing it twice over seven days with my brother for company - 140 miles going west for the Stroke Association and coming back 140 miles east again for the Animal Welfare Foundation, an organisation run by vets that promotes the welfare of animals. My horses and dogs helped me with my welfare and recovery, this is the least I can do as a vet to pay back my debt to them.
I was so lucky. Lucky I had quick care, lucky my aneurysm was accessible to the surgeons, lucky I survived the brain surgery and doubly lucky to survive without physical disability or lasting functional deficits. That's the story of my stroke of luck. I hope you'll support my efforts to give something back to the support systems that allow me to enjoy my unlikely good fortune.