Real Life Stories: “I woke up in the hospital and my husband explained that I had sustained a sub-arachnoid haemorrhage”
- The Natalie Kate Moss Trust
- Jun 14, 2024
- 5 min read
“I have been lucky…… very, very lucky.”
On Friday 22nd January 2010, in my late 40’s, I went to work as usual, a very long commute and plenty of stress and pressure, but that was normal. I left promising to replan a piece of work over the weekend (in my free time) and send it to a colleague for Monday morning.
At home later, I booked flight tickets for a business meeting while my husband cooked dinner….
We never ate the meal he prepared…. I suddenly had the most dreadful headache imaginable and went downstairs to tell him. I sat at the dining room table and began drumming my fingers and slurring my words. I didn’t initially want him to call 111, but when he insisted, they sent an ambulance straight away. The last thing I remember that day was being in the ambulance and agreeing that he would follow behind in the car.
“What do I recall next? Waking up in hospital with my family by my side (this was actually five days later) …. My husband explaining that I had been very ill (I had sustained a sub-arachnoid haemorrhage), but that I was getting better now…… and on a separate occasion trying (without any real success) to understand the operation (coiling my aneurism) for which I needed to give consent (without actually saying so, he seemed to think it was a good idea, so luckily I agreed)”
I remember being so weak that I struggled to move across the hospital bed and quite some days later completing the seemingly impossible task of standing, with the aid of very rickety hospital equipment, to transfer to a chair. Later, being taken to the hospital café using a wheelchair and remembering that I used to be able to walk like everyone else was doing.
I remember my first shower in hospital. I was wheeled in and left for a long time (whether by accident or design, I’m not sure). The beautiful warm water poured over me and the grubbiness I felt washed away…
I remember my husband, wider family, close friends, and even colleagues supporting me amazingly with an endless stream of visits. Talking to me, joking with me, reading to me and just being there for me. My husband visited every day until I was discharged, (which was over two months). Getting me to eat was a big problem, as I was never hungry, and when seriously unwell, couldn’t see the point! He tempted me with food brought in from home. When I was a lot better, he and I shared a meal that he had cooked and brought in, in an unusually quiet hospital ward, which was a small happy memory.
Initially, my cognitive processing was very much degraded. I remember being asked to choose from a menu. I could read, and understand the words, and I knew what the relevant menu item was, but I couldn’t choose the one I wanted. I was also unable to explain what exactly I was unable to do. However, there were some clues that my cognitive ability would improve. One of the screws holding my glasses together came out, and my husband struggled to replace it. Quite unsolicited, I said “It’s cross-threaded”. Quite advanced, you might think for someone who can’t choose from a menu!
I was kept in hospital due to my body temperature spiking repeatedly, and my limited physical ability. Once my temperature remained stable and I could manage a flight of stairs, I was allowed home, initially for a trial period, the day before the Easter break.
I was welcomed home with balloons, flowers and a glass of champagne! Even my cat, who had taken a very dim view of all the disruption, and seemed puzzled that I couldn’t move about properly, decided to forgive me. Once home, I was of course able to live more ‘normally’ and I improved far quicker.
“Not long after my discharge, we walked (extremely slowly) up the moderate hill on the heathland behind our house, and even the cat came too. My cognitive abilities were improving, as did my writing which was initially non-existent and subsequently somewhat childlike for a period.”
A year later, I felt well enough to take on a short regular commitment, and I started volunteering at my local stroke club. I subsequently joined Headway, the brain injury charity, initially as a member in my own right, but almost immediately as a volunteer mentor to another member.
I still wasn’t anything like well enough to return to my own job, due to my lack of stamina, exhaustion, poor attention, and slow decision-making. I kept my employer fully informed of my progress and my Occupational Therapist even came to a progress meeting in London with me. I was fortunate to be retired on ill-health grounds, as, although I was still recovering, my rate of recovery was not sufficient for me to resume my role within an acceptable timescale.
Due to my experiences and my (by this stage considerable) level of recovery, I wanted to pursue a second career in healthcare. I started with a part-time basic course in Anatomy and Physiology, and then obtained a place on an Occupational Therapy course, obtaining a good degree after three years (by then it was 2016).
So, my recovery is close to complete. I still get very tired and my balance isn’t very good (both of which I suspect, but don’t know, are consequences of my haemorrhage) but that is about it.
To those of you who have lost someone through brain haemorrhage, there is nothing I can say to ease your pain except that I am very sorry, and that I do sincerely appreciate my good fortune. To those trying to recover, I know it is extremely hard, my recovery didn’t come at all easily, although, of course, it did come eventually. If you are supporting someone recovering from a brain haemorrhage, your input, and just being there are vital.
Notable points from my personal experience:
1. Support from family and friends is everything. This applies at every level. My husband interacted with the NHS, to obtain the best care and support for me; from influencing my treatment to small details such as interacting with the hospital staff to persuade me to eat. He supported me personally, tirelessly, and of course not at all knowing how well I would recover. Both close and more distant family and friends provide huge support, and a social structure and a level of ‘normality’ that helps the patient re-orientate to the real world.
2. I co-operated fully and proactively with my employer, and although a naturally very private person, allowed them to have any details they wished concerning my health and recovery. This appeared to engender a positive attitude towards my situation and my future.
3. Whether you are the patient or their family/friends, never give up. Set small achievable goals and be prepared to fail, and keep trying, even if you are told your recovery will be limited. Whatever the circumstances, you’ll achieve your best life in the end. Wishing you every luck and good fortune.
