How did it come to this?

Me & the family at the wedding of a very close friend shortly after the incident.

The next instalment follows on from ‘De-Tree-Mental – Detrimental’ – Giving an account, 4 weeks preceding, the circumstances leading up to the ‘dream of three trees’. 

How did it come to this? Good question! My memory of this is sketchy and I’m writing from snippets of Laura’s recollection of events. For those of you reading this who don’t know me, Laura is my amazing wife and at this point I think it’s certainly worth honouring the woman, whose unwavering strength, serves as an example alluded to in wedding vows ‘in sickness (of which there has been a lot for me) and in health I will be by your side.' I owe a great deal to this incredible woman, whose instinct and quick thinking may well have saved my life.

Bang!!! My body, quickly followed by my face, hit the floor of the master bedroom in our two up, two down terraced house. Unexpectedly I suffered a seizure and my left side went numb. My head throbbed, probably from the impact of hitting the floor. You see, when you feel yourself falling it’s usually natural instinct to put your hands out to prevent serious injury. However, on this occasion my natural instinct had failed me.

I remember thinking this is it, I’m going to die. I don’t know what a stroke or heart attack feel like, but I’ve heard stories of people referring to the symptoms and my instant thought alluded to the idea that I was suffering a heart attack and then that stereotypical thought entered my head, but I’m only 28, I’m not ready to die, I have so much to live for.

I then found myself in darkness, Laura tells me that I’d passed out, lying in a pool of foam from my mouth, unconscious, barely breathing. I lay there and Laura recalls bounding up the stairs and finding me motionless on the floor.

Moments earlier I had been putting Jake, our eldest son, to bed and was on my way to the bedroom to get changed having been at work. Needless to say, I never got round to changing my clothes, instead I awoke to find Laura standing over me holding our son Jake. She was frantic, but managed to regain her composure in order to call an ambulance.

10 minutes later I was swamped by three paramedics. I was fitted with an oxygen mask and a whole host of sensor pads were attached to my hands, chest and feet, presumably to monitor my vital signs. I had a vague notion of what was going on as my Dad served as a paramedic, so I knew that whatever had happened was bad. However, it was not all the attention that concerned me.

The paramedics began to ask me a series of questions, such as name, date of birth, who my favourite football team are and they asked me to identify the two other people in the room. It was only at that moment that I realised something was terribly wrong, I couldn’t answer any of the questions, at first I put it down to being in a state of shock, I felt dazed, dizzy and sick and the cloud of darkness began to descend again.

But, the more I thought about the answers to these questions, the more I realised that I actually didn’t know the answers. Panic set in and the paramedics must have sensed it because at that moment they decided it was necessary for me to go to the hospital.

Problem was (with the greatest respect to the female gender) two of the paramedics were women who took one look at me and thought we’re not going to be able to move him, he’s a muscle mountain (yes quite a compliment I know).

It also dawned on the paramedic team of three that the stairs in our house were incredibly steep. This was going to be a challenge. We were left with only one option; I had to resort to sliding down the stairs on my backside, no feeling in my left side, head pounding and no idea where I was going. My well-being was now in the hands of people, who at the time, I didn’t know. Was I scared? You bet I was.

At the foot of the stairs a wheel-chair was waiting for me, I was wheeled into an ambulance, asked more questions, resulting in further frustration as I could not come up with any answers. The doors of the ambulance closed. Suddenly I felt vulnerable, alone and isolated.

What had happened to me? What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I remember anything?

I thought I’d lost hours of my life. I later found out that all this had taken place within 20 minutes of me putting my son down. That knowledge frightened me. Knowing that many of us take our memory and our lives for granted. As quick as breathing in, I’d lost all my life’s memories and, if not for the fast actions of my wife, I may well have lost so much more.

Next time...

The hospital