Then on Saturday 19 November my world changed. I woke up feeling awful and thought it was a combination of my chest infection and a few wines the night before. I had a headache, weak limbs and sickness. I felt horrific and remember being sick. After being sick I couldn’t get up off the bathroom floor despite fighting with all my will to do so. I was crying and confused but managed to get up after a while and get ready. At this point everything seemed reasonably OK and I genuinely thought I just had low energy due to being sick and slightly hungover, but I was scared and confused.

Like I said I’d thought it was a just a bad chest infection, having felt sick for two weeks, but I presumed it was just that and a private GP I had visited had even agreed that it probably was too.

I was due to be child sitting at my brother’s house and thankfully I’d pre booked a taxi the day before. I felt a bit rough, but didn’t want to let my brother down so I went on my way. This turned out to be a lifesaving decision! One point that sticks in my mind is telling the taxi driver to have a good day and he said that there was ‘no point having a bad one’… if only he knew…

When I arrived at my brother’s he instantly told me I looked awful, which I thought was his usual elder brother charm! I was exhausted at this point and told one of my nieces I’d play shortly before sitting on the floor. I don’t remember much of this stage other than being very tired and lacking energy. My brother realised something really wasn’t right and called an ambulance. The telephone responders asked to speak to me, but I was adamant that I was fine! I then recall feeling like I was ‘coming to’ with a teddy bear being thrown at my head by my youngest niece. I truly hope I’ve not scarred them for life. I then desperately needed the toilet, but couldn’t get up. My brother had to help me to the bathroom and at this point the ambulance arrived.

I was assessed quickly, rushed for an MRI and thrombolysed. I was told I had a blood clot on my brain and would be taken to London to have it removed. At this stage I was so embarrassed from having been being sick on myself and I was in utter shock. My brother and sister were with me and I let them make the decisions.

I was ‘blue lighted’ to London, had surgery to remove the blood clot and sent back to Maidstone hospital where I was admitted to a stroke ward. Thinking back, to say that I was scared is a massive understatement.

The next few days were critical. I’d lost all movement on my left side and couldn’t even lift my arm. After a couple of days I regained some movement and I then needed to build strength. I used exercise balls to regain grip and learnt how to hold a fork again and I was thrilled when I relearnt  how to do it with my left hand. Walking was trickier as I was very unsteady and had a weak knee. We joke I learnt to walk at the same time as my youngest niece but I’m sure she’s steadier on her feet!

In the early days of recovery I was scared and confused. I found it lonely, slow and frustrating.

Recovery is hard and still a battle. I look physically well other than a wonky eyebrow so people don’t believe it when I recall what happened. What people don’t see is my chronic fatigue and my weak left side. I get tremors when tired and have fallen when my leg gets weak. I’m constantly anxious, struggle with low energy and fatigue. My weakened left side frustrates me, I get very confused and my words can be muddled. My patience is not as good as before and I can snap easily. Fatigue is awful and some days it’s a battle just to do anything! That said – I’m a fighter! My brother saved my life and so I need to live it. Each day is a battle I win – and you can too. Don’t let people grind you down. Being a young stroke survivor can be hard but if you’ve survived a stroke don’t forget you are just that – a survivor!