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My name is Liz and I live in the Scottish Borders. I am recovering from a SAH and ruptured dissecting aneurysm which happened on 14/2/09. Apparently this was not my first bleed. We now know that my first bleed was in March 1997. It had happened after I saw my two sons off to Cubs and my daughter was at a friends for tea. My husband works in Edinburgh (35 miles from home) and wasn’t home yet. I experienced an horrific head ache with water pouring out of my eyes. I couldn’t do anything but lay on my bed. It was two hours before my husband arrived home but by that time I had been sick and taken strong pain killers. My headache was bearable and all I wanted to do was sleep. I assumed that I had had a very bad migraine and got on with my life! Fast forward to 17/1/09. I had been out with some colleagues from work for a curry. I had been tired during the day and didn’t really feel like going out but went anyway. By 9.30 I just didn’t fell right and went home. About 5am on the Sunday morning I woke up being sick. I managed to get to the bathroom. In between vomiting I would have this pounding headache. I put this down to red wine and a curry. At work on Monday I noticed that one of my eyes had blood in it. We assumed that I had burst a blood vessel whilst being sick as it was quite violent. At the end of my working day on 10/2/09 I had to attend a meeting. At the end of this I told a colleague that I didn’t feel right and had a bit of a headache. My husband was stuck in a meeting and couldn’t give me lift home. I got the bus; it’s only a 10 minute journey. When I got off the bus I still didn’t fell right, that’s the only way I can explain how I felt. Then bam, and my head was pounding. I tried to get home but couldn’t walk and went down on my haunches. I phone my 17 year old son and he picked me up. He wanted to take me to the hospital but I insisted he take me home. I went to my bed after taking strong painkillers. I went to work the next day! I still had a bit of a headache but coped. (I should say that I am a hospital administrator!). I didn’t make to work on the Thursday as I had a stiff neck and couldn’t turn to the left. My colleagues urged me to see my GP. I didn’t have the energy and slept the whole day. I felt a bit better on the Friday, didn’t want to not go to work as it was my birthday and didn’t want people to think I was skiving. Coped with my work. Saturday 14/2/09 going out to dinner with family to celebrate my birthday. I had been very tired during the day, so much so I cancelled my appointment at the beautician. I Really didn’t want to go out but I went. We got to the entrance of the restaurant and I said “oh no”, then bam. The most horrendous headache. I was insisting that I be taken home. My husband wanted to take me to the hospital but I refused. At home he called NHS 24 and the nurse there dialed 999 and the ambulance arrived within minutes. I was still insisting that I didn’t want to go. The doctors at my local hospital told me how sick I was and what they suspected had happened. The CT can was negative but the lumbar puncture was full of blood. On 15/2/09 I was transferred to Edinburgh Western Infirmary’s Neurological department. The Neuroradiologist again told me how sick I was and after the angiogram explained the treatment I needed. On 18/2/09 I had 9 coils put into my left vertebral artery to block it off. It was too dangerous to just coil the aneurysm. Tests showed that my right artery was capable of taking on the work of the left. He also then gave me statistics. He said that 80% of people with their first bleed make it to hospital but only 15% of people with a second bleed make it to hospital. He had no statistics for me. Both he and the Professor of Neurology told me I was a miracle. They have no idea what caused it, I don’t smoke, drank very little (now not at all), didn’t have high blood pressure (but I do now since June) and there is no family history. I was in hospital until 24/2/09 . I was laid flat until 22/2/09. I was discharged home. The Professor didn’t want me to go to my local hospital. He said I needed sleep , peace and quiet. I know I am very, very lucky. Not only to survive this but to have so few problems, but the first time I had heard anything about aneurysms was when I was taken to hospital. Also the Edinburgh staff had told me that it was aneurysm season! They expect patients with this when the seasons change. So when winter is finishing, they are busy and again when summer becomes autumn another influx of patients. I never knew the significance of a headache coming on suddenly and have been struggling with headaches since I had my daughter in 1986. No doctor ever warned me to take action if this happened. I have some weakness in my left arm, I can be forgetful (but that could be my age, I’m 49) and I tire much more easily. I had a lot of hair loss at about 2 months but my consultant says this can happen. They don’t know whether it’s being seriously ill or the radiation in angiogram that causes it but it has now started to grow back. I was feeling fantastic in June and then my blood pressure shot up. No one knows why but it has taken 3 months to get that under control. I will be returning to work late November on a phased return basis and I have to have an angiogram sometime in February 2010. My oldest son’s friend lost his mother on 18 September to a ruptured aneurysm. I count my blessing at least once, if not more, each day. Liz

15th November 2008. It was a day like any other really; running around after the kids, taking them here and there. I decided to clean up the garage with Melissa, my daughter who is 10 years old. My husband had just left to take his disabled Father to the football match when I picked up a carrier bag up and felt a pop in the back of my neck. I felt a bit dizzy and sat down. Melissa realised something was wrong and rang her nan. She didn't answer so she went and got a neighbour who came running. She rang the doctor who advised her to ring for an ambulance. They came and kept asking me questions. They took me to the ambulance and I passed out. I don't remember much after that, but nan had turned up by then and came with me whilst Melissa stayed with my neighbour. My husband Gerry met us at the hospital where they scanned me and told Gerry that I had had a SAH. They rushed me to Oxford and an aneurysm coiled the next day. For the first week I don't remember much, but a week later, I was allowed home but was told to completely rest, as I had a big one that needed to be operated on. I was like a time bomb, I guess, watching what I was doing and not overdoing things. In March 2009 I had to go for another scan and a check up. To my horror, I discovered I had three more aneurysms, not one as I had thought. The big one was 11 mm, the second was 2.5 mm and the third was 1 mm but he would operate on the first one and take a look at the second, so on 23rd June 2009, I went back to Oxford for my operation. There were risks of a stroke or my life, so to us there was no choice. I came round and the surgeon said it was messy, but he had clipped 2 of them as the 3rd one was very weak. I was lucky it didn't bleed again, so I am doing well waiting for a check up to see how things are doing. All I have is short term memory loss. I still find it very hard to come to terms with what happened to me, as I am very independent and still think I can do things and find that I can't. I still get headaches and tiredness and am not back to work yet, but I have learnt to slow down and ask for help if I need it. Life is short and you don't know what's around the corner. I will keep you updated on my progress. Debbie

Well mine started on the night we prayed for the Saints I had a horrendous pain on the left side of my head. I knew it was bad and felt something had blew. Just what it was, I didn’t have a clue? I managed some how to phone for Helena. The next few weeks my memories are mixed some vague some clearer. I remember the scan, they said I had a problem.... A bleed on the brain oh dear that sounded grave Helena and my son Stevie they tried so hard to be brave. I heard a male nurse say that this is not a problem, it happens all the time. We'll take him to the Southern and he will be just fine. I woke in the morning and was moved after nine to ward sixty five. The surgeon who I saw, said it loud and clear. I was in deep trouble it was then I began to fear. My time on this earth was not in my hands, but was it was all down to the man at my bed all dressed in blue. He told us both of the dangers the operation had in store. Perhaps a stroke, a heart attack, a seizure or how my brain would be, we will need to wait, then afterwards, we all will see. Going for the surgery, I never will forget the deep and heart felt emotions that went round in my thoughts. The tears that flowed I thought never would stop. The fear of death, it did feel quite strange. But for me I was so sad that I might never see my boys and wife ever again. I was so grateful when I heard the nurse say "Stephen your in recovery and doing great!" The next few weeks I lay on my back and gave blood about four times a day. The old Stephen would have moaned like hell but no, not me this time. I have changed as a person for that I am quite sure. I have never a doubt that my boys and wife will always know how much I love them. I tell that often, they ask me for space as they think I will crush them. The point of writing this, I hope is clear, that we should never feel fear of what happens the next day. Just try to ensure the people you love are safe and know you love them while you are here. Stephen.

As a teacher and running coach, everything seemed perfectly normal. I was out for a workout with my kids, a short interval set after school on September 29th. As an endurance athlete for the past 20 years, this was not a difficult workout, nor was I feeling strange in any way. After leading one section of the workout, the "thunderclap"came, seizing all of the muscles in my neck and back. Not wanting to alarm my athletes, I ended practice and they jogged the 2K back to school. I tried to jog, collapsing to my knees. I thought I had thrown a disc out in my neck. I walked back, drove home, took a hot shower, ate dinner (sparingly) with my family, read the kids books, and tried to sleep. At about 11:30 that night (about 8 hours after the symptoms started, I woke up vomiting, dizzy, and generally "not there"as described by my wife. She immediately drove me to the emergency room of our local hospital. CAT scans revealed blood on my brain. Two hours and an ambulance ride later, I was in the emergency room of a larger hospital. I never considered that I could die, but my wife was both a rock and a mess! I felt so bad that I was causing everyone so much worry, and no one really explained to me what was going on. Rounds of MRIs, CAT scans with contrast, and angio., etc. and it was finally diagnosed as a SAH near my brain stem. Ten days of being a horrible (not good at the passive process) patient in the ICU, and I was cleared to go home. My children (two boys 9 and 5) were not allowed into the ICU during that time, and was overjoyed to see them. The recovery has been the most challenging. Due to the nature of the bleed, there were no additional procedures, no medication, and little chance of the vessel "letting go" again. So, back at home, I am now attempting to deal with the symptoms of something so random, so scary, and so unknown in many ways. My life is just so different, and reading the other stories has helped me greatly. For the first few weeks, I felt alone, saddened, and isolated from everyone. There are no support groups that I have found online in the US, and although I have always considered myself pretty strong and independent, I am realizing that my family and friends are wonderful to a point. Having others that have endured this same experience sharing what it was like has validated my last two months. I spend a lot of time explaining to people that just because I don't look sick, I am not by any means feeling well. I have what my wife and kids call, "a new normal." I never took the time to realize how I felt in my own skin until the bleed. I know that things are not normal, but I don't recall now what "normal" was like two months ago. I am back at work 3 days a week, which is a push, but makes me feel more "normal." I am trying to live as I did before, and I am finding that my limits are easy to reach. My recovery has been a bit a of a rollercoaster- moving forward, backsliding, another step forward. I am not sure how long it will take, or if I will ever feel like I am back to who I was prior. I am grateful to have my life, and sad/angry that so much is unknown. I thank all of you in advance for sharing your stories, success, and inspiration. It has made that past two months much more comforting. I look forward to learning more about my condition, what may happen in the future, and celebrating you successes along the way. Best, Noah

I've just passed the 12 month mark of my little Annie rupture (Christmas Eve) and have to admit I'm still struggling with many things, although to see how far I've come in a year is amazing! The days leading up to this Christmas were very strange. I know I didn't have my bleed because it was Christmas but I was very anxious and aware of trying to do everything different to last year, even changed the opening times of the salon and went to a different pub for a xmas drink with the girls after work! Call me superstitious...but it worked for me lol!! I'm still having problems, especially emotionally. My moods are so up and down it's incredible and I am still having problems with my sleep pattern. I can go for days and days where I can only manage a few hours a night, then maybe a day or so when I really can't get out of bed. I thought this would have settled down by now but after reading some of your stories, I realise I am still in what could be classed as early stage of recovery, so whilst it is very frustrating it is also good to know it's not unusual! I think we're all guilty of thinking we're the exception to the rule and put pressure on ourselves to be better much quicker than we actually can be! On the up side the headaches do seem to be coming less often and not as bad, except obviously when lack of sleep forces them, it's a vicious circle! My family do get a bit frustrated with me at times. Mum's even told me to "go to the doctors and get myself sorted out!" but I really don't want to take sleeping tablets if I don't have to. I've tried explaining that sleep disturbance is a normal part of recovery and if I can deal with things without meds, ie sleep when I need to, then that's my way of dealing with things. Having said that I was in bed at 10:30pm last night and it's now 5:30am. I've been up for hours, washing, ironing and doing housework and am supposed to be working till 6pm today.....I feel an afternoon nap coming on! One thing I have noticed is my memory seems to be getting worse. I thought that being a year on I would notice an improvement not a decline. Again this is worse when I am tired, but I find it more and more frustrating trying to drag things from the back of my mind. I can start a conversation and halfway through forget what I was going to say, then get spoken to like I'm 6 yrs old again "don't worry, it'll come back to you"! I'm also a lot more forthright than I used to be, often saying things that I wouldn't have dreamt of saying before, which is not always a good thing! My GP has been very dismissive and the odd occasion I have been to see her she's basically told me to get on with things, to see how far I've come in 3 months and to think how far I'll have come in another 3 months...that was after telling me I was feeling suicidal at times because I was suffering with "survivors guilt". She never offered any help, counselling or anything. Needless to say I haven't been back for months and am doing ok on my own, I think haha!! It's so good to have this site to be able to read everyones stories and see how your recoveries have been, it gives me confidence, that what I'm feeling is quite normal, which makes me feel better than my GP ever could. We've all been in the same boat and the comfort it gives me makes me realise that I will get there in the end. It's just going to take longer than I'd like! Wishing you all a happy, healthy 2010! Sandie xxx

I had just turned 40. One month later whilst off work, I was spending the week in Perth at my wee sister's with my two kids and my nephew. On 14 October, they went for pizza and I went shopping because I don't like pizza. Shopping done and in the car I went to the toilet and felt a sharp pain from my left ear to my head. I left the toilet and walked to my car, sweating and panicking that I wouldn't make it. I got inside the car and sat panicking then had to jump out to throw up. People just watched me (obviously thought I had a hangover). I then managed to phone my sister and she sent her partner to pick me up. He took me to her flat and I lay on the toilet floor dying. Because of the pains in the back of my neck I asked her to take me to hospital. NHS24 thought it was possibly a migraine so they treated that and the sickness feeling and I went home to my sister's (no recollection). My partner travelled from Kirkintilloch to Perth by train and took me to my own house on the Thursday evening (15th) and i spent the night with my 2 wee girls with a sore head and feeling sick. Friday morning (16th) I phoned the doctor and got an emergency appointment, then my 7 year old phoned my sister in law and asked her to take me (I had my last ciggy at that point but didnt realise it would be my last). The doctor did a thorough examination then gave me some medication but asked me to phone back if i wasn't any better in the afternoon. I slept whilst my 10 yr old tried to get me to eat, but I thought it's the weekend and I cant feel like this all weekend so I phoned the doctor she suggested that I go to hospital because she thought I might have a bleed. I when to hospital and spent the night scared. The next day I had a CT scan which showed nothing, so later I had a Lumbar Puncture. Another night scared not understanding the seriousness of this. Next day results - blood was found so I was moved straight away to Southern General Hospital. The next day I had another CT scan with dye but again, nothing was found so I was told that they might not find where bleed came from and that it might have sorted itself. During the night with the headache in full flow I asked a nurse if the headache would disappear soon and if I could get back to work. She explained that it was more serious than that. One last test (20th) - angiogram. I had the fright of my life that they where going to put something in my groin. That test was long and warm and I was glad when it was finished. They then approached me to say they had found 2 aneurysms and that they would sort it straight away. I listened in a panic, thinking that I need to get it sorted but I didnt get to speak to my family who it turns out where sitting waiting outside the ward waiting for me to return from my angiogram. The surgeon wasn't able to contact anyone on number that I gave them so no one was aware what was happening to me. I woke up in HDU with family around me who were delighted that I was talking. Back in ward, I had to deal with facing my children because I had promised that they could visit. That was hard because they just wanted their mummy home and because there were no visible scars the wee one thought "Oh! you're better." I did the usual: gave blood, took medication - as much as I could get, got scans and ate very little. About 4 days later I broke down panicking about my kids and not seeing them, and them having to deal with the big change and live with their Dad. I got my final MRI scan and was told one aneurysm was coiled and the other was too small and too near the big one to touch at this time. I was told that there was a 1 in 5000 chance that it would cause any problems. I got home (29th) and to date have only had my kids staying with me twice. The shock of the seriousness of it all was my first problem. Dealing with that and the taking of medication daily to deal with the headaches. I have a twitchy left eye and gets worse when im tired, shaky hands sometimes and now the concentration level is at zero. But I'm told it should all get better, so I'm hoping to get my kids back full time very early in the new year then get back to work after that - I can live in hope. Because I am on my own at home I find the days long sometimes and that I get emotional: some words in songs, thinking of the future if anything else will happen, and sometimes thinking what could have happened and my poor kids, but also I think sometimes that I'm so lucky to still be here to get another chance.

I suffered my SAH May 2007. It was out of the blue. I was playing golf and I am grateful that I was with other folk as I live alone. Before I went to play golf I had lifted a 100 litre compost sack out of my car. As soon as I lifted it I knew it was a daft thing to do and dropped it, and off I went. A few hours later on our 8th hole I had a weird feeling in my head and in my neck. I couldn't turn my head to right or left. It felt like daggers radiating from my shoulders up into my head.. I have had migraines since my teens including one very bad one and I knew this was different. My friend said should we call an ambulance and I said yes. Paramedics came first and then an ambulance, very dramatic, I was awake the whole time and was calm and quite fascinated. I have worked in a healthcare profession for over 30 years so have some relevant knowledge. My twin sister was called and off we were whisked to our local hospital.They did a CT scan and said to me "You have bleeding in your brain" and I answered "You mean I am having a brain haemorrhage?" I was also very sick for a while. They then transferred me to the nearest Neurosurgical Dept. and that was University Hospital Coventry where they were wonderful. I was still awake though this was in the middle of the night. I clearly remember a Doc in greens sitting by the bed telling me this is life-threatening and I thought Gosh no-one knows it's life-threatening ( meaning the family). Wrong! I was scanned etc., and told there was no aneurysm nor malformation of bvs. Whilst having an angiogram I asked the Doc could it be because I had lifted a very heavy bag, ( it seemed a good time to ask as he was putting pressure on the bv and couldn't go anywhere, I did find the Docs very unforthcoming with info), and he said they do have builders etc who suffer, so could well have been. I was in for 3 weeks, completely flat for 2 weeks and getting up and about in the third. On nimopidine and paracetamol.. I was more worried about not being able to wash my hair at times. I was then transferred back to the local hospital where they put me in the stroke unit with 3 very poorly elderly ladies and I begged them to let me out. I was allowed out the next day to my sister's so I had company and stayed for 5 weeks till I was a bit stronger. I had a special visual field test so I was sure I was ok for the DVLA and they gave me my license back though I didn't drive till I felt a lot better. My distance vision is ok though I now need specs' all the time. I hadn't realised whilst in hospital that I had problems with my balance and vision. It was only when out and I tried to do normal things that I realised my shortcomings. I also have some cognitive problems which I have found ways round. I recently saw an occupational therapist who questioned me closely and she said I had been very intuitive about ongoing problems and was coping well. Now I have come to terms with the fact that I have ongoing near vision problems. I have resigned from my profession and have learned to cope and even be happy with what I have. I think in some ways I am even happy all this happened as it has forced me into a new less stressful way of life. I am more laid back and easy going than I was before. I do get tired and have to pace myself. Recently I have found a new part-time job, the new boss has taken me on knowing I have some problems but they chose me over others and I am loving it. I end up napping after work but I don't care. I am back to playing golf, wasn't sure that I would be able to hit the ball but I can and some days I hit it well, varies though. I know I am very, very lucky and count my blessings. When people grumble about petty nothings, I tell them off, I think I am more forthright than I was... but so be it. I wish I had found this site 2 years ago, I have found it very lonely and isolating, I am sure you know what I mean. A lady at the job centre, a disability advisor, (who I should have seen 6 months before I eventually did), said to me "people think you are ok don't they and you are not are you?" She was right, I look OK and folk assume I am but I am a different person now, not as robust as I look, not as able to cope as before, I had been a very independent soul before. Its just a matter of doing the best you can, and making the most of what you have. Not being afraid to ask for help or advice. I wish all you folk good luck. Patience is everything. I recently found the book: A Dented Image - Journeys of Recovery from Subarachnoid Haemorrhage By Alison Wertheimer, which was well worth reading, it took me a long time but with perseverance I did it. Bye for now , Anneec

June 19th, 2009 is a day that I will never forget. At 8.30 p.m. I suffered a Subarachnoid Haemorrhage (SAH). I have finally decided that it is time to document the most terrifying experience of my life. If I seem to ramble, please excuse me, as I will type this as it all tumbles out of my head. I had experienced a most exhausting week at work. We were in the middle of renovations at work, so therefore mess and chaos everywhere. My boss was ill with the flu and had taken the week off work, something which he never ever does, so he must have been sick. Needless to say I felt very stressed by the end of the week. The week had ended and I was looking forward to the weekend. I had my dinner and was sitting outside having a breath of fresh air when all of a sudden I started to feel funny. I felt a really strange feeling in my head. Something that I can’t really describe other than I thought that I was going to faint. I quickly went inside and told my husband, Paul, that I didn’t feel very well, that I was experiencing a weird sensation in my head and that I had started to get a massive headache and really bad neck pain at the base of my head. He asked me if I wanted him to take me to the hospital or get an ambulance, but once he asked me that question I thought that maybe I was being a bit dramatic and that I would just have a couple of paracetamol and have a lie down. I asked him to sit with me and drifted off to sleep. The next morning ( Saturday 20th) I woke up still with a headache and neck pain. I just took it easy and pottered about the house for the morning. I still wasn’t feeling well by early afternoon, so decided I would do a Google search of my symptoms on the internet as I felt that it wasn’t like a normal headache. Quite a few results came up and I narrowed it down to either meningitis, which I knew I didn’t have, or a brain haemorrhage. It was at that stage that I became quite alarmed and decided that the best thing to do would be to go see a Doctor. But it was early afternoon on a Saturday. I got Paul to take me down town to try and find a clinic that was open but the first one we went to was closing for the day and advised that we go to the medical clinic that is at the local hospital. So off we went to the clinic and sat around for ages waiting to see a doctor. Finally we were called through to see the doctor on duty. A lovely woman doctor, who I owe my life to. After explaining my symptoms to her, she took my blood pressure and advised me that my blood pressure was extremely high. I am talking very, very high. High enough for her to tell me that I wouldn’t be going home, but that I was going straight to the Emergency Dept of the hospital. She wouldn’t even let me walk and got one of the nurses to take me to Emergency in a wheelchair. I was rushed through Triage and and once in the inner sanctum of the emergency department the waiting began again for a doctor to become free. I have no idea of the time at this stage only that there was steady stream of people being brought in by ambulances. Some having sustained injuries at footy matches. One young man in his 30’s had had a heart attack. Finally I was taken to an emergency treatment room where I was told to put a gown on and hop up onto the bed. A gown? What the heck is going on? I was asking myself. A whole heap of monitors were attached to me and the treating doctor put a tablet under my tongue and a patch on my upper chest. This was to bring my blood pressure down. Well, that worked quite effectively but it only enhanced the head and neck pain that I had and I was yelling out that ‘my head hurts’. I was suffering the excruciating head pain again. Once they had gotten my blood pressure to an acceptable level they then took me through for a CT scan of my brain. When I came back from the scan the attending doctor showed me all the pictures of my brain and indicated that he thought that everything was OK but that he had to wait for the radiologist’s report. I was then wheeled off to a curtained cubicle in the main emergency area. Once again we had to wait. I’m not sure for how long but it was getting quite late in the evening by this time. Finally the attending doctor came to see me. He then advised me that the astute radiologist had found a bleed on my brain and that they couldn’t treat it at that hospital. He had been in touch with the Neurosurgery Department of the Alfred Hospital, Melbourne (Australia’s biggest trauma hospital) and that they had agreed to take me and I was to go there immediately by ambulance. This is where it all began to get a bit scary. Telephone calls were made to family members to advise them of what was happening. The ambulance arrived soon after and I was transported to The Alfred. On arrival at the Alfred, I was admitted and spent the night in the Emergency Department. Members of my family rushed up to the Alfred to be with me. Paul tells me that was approximately 2.00 a.m. The next morning ( Sunday 21st ) I was visited by some members of the neurosurgical team and was sent off for another CT scan of my brain. This time with a dye injected through my blood stream. After the scan and on looking at the pictures the neurosurgical consultant advised us that it was looking good and that it was looking like I would be allowed to go home. But, once again, they were waiting on the radiologist’s report. When the radiologist’s report came back it was discovered that I had a burst aneurysm. That evening I was transferred to the High Dependancy Unit on the Neurology ward where I was monitored. Next day ( Monday 22nd ) I was visited by a neuroradiologist who advised me that it had been decided by the neurosurgical team that they were going to perform an operation called coiling. I was told that I was suitable for this type of treatment. So on Tuesday 23rd June 2009, my mother’s birthday, my aneurysm was coiled successfully. Whilst they were coiling this aneurysm they found another small unruptured aneurysm which I had successfully coiled on Dec 1st 2009. My recovery has been a series of ups and downs. I have suffered depression, panic attacks and severe fatigue. But I continually improve and the bad days are getting less and less. I am back at work working the same hours as prior to my SAH. I am thankful every day that my SAH was discovered by a very caring doctor who just didn’t send me home with some painkillers and say that I had a migraine. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be here today.

This is the story of our terrible experience October 2008. Simon 47, came into the lounge and said he was going to Morrisons for some milk and did I need anything at all? As I was talking to him he clasped the back of his head and said he had a terrible pain and thought there was something terribly wrong!! He sat on the sofa and closed his eyes and said he needed to lie down, he went up to bed and I took him some paracetamols as I thought he just had a migraine and he went to sleep. The next morning (Saturday 18th October) he said he felt sick and dizzy but the headache was not so bad, I asked him if he wanted me to run him a bath as I thought it would make him feel better, he agreed but went back to bed soon after. I went to the chemist and spoke the the pharmacist for advice and she gave me codeine for him. He stayed in bed for the day, with me taking him drinks and tablets. The next morning (Sunday) I had to go to work till noon, so called my daughter at 10.30 to check on him she said he was not making much sense and was worried. This was when i thought this must be something more than migraine. I called the out of hours Dr number and was called back by the Dr, he wanted to speak to my husband so I gave him my home number as I was still at work and called my daughter on her mobile to advise her the Dr would be calling. She called me back and said the Dr was on his way. I left work and hurried home just as the Dr got there. He checked Simon and told us he thought it was a brain aneurysm and we need to get to hospital ASAP as Simons blood pressure was 240/180. He gave him some sort of spray on his tongue and called an ambulance, he said it would not be long and gave us a letter to give to the hospital., as he had to go to another patient. An hour later still no ambulance, so I called and they said it had gone to another emergency and one would be with us soon! When they eventually came, it was a complete rigmarole being examined and explaining all over again. We were eventually on our way, but were taken to our nearest hospital but were told that it did not take patients on a weekend!!! so would have to go the a different hospital 15 miles away. At last we were there and put into a side ward, 4 hours later and after talking to numerous nurses as we had still not been seen we were taken to the clinical decision unit, as we were told we were not allowed to stay in A&E for more than 4 hours without being seen, what a joke all i kept hearing them say “Mr White he’s the man with the headache“, I was so frustrated! He did not have a headache anymore i had a letter for a Dr regarding a brain aneurysm for gods sake? Eventually a Dr came who advised me she was sending Simon for a chest Xray and she thought he had meningitis? I said he needed a MRI as the Dr had said in the letter she had in her hand. She said she was a junior Dr and was not able to authorise a MRI?? I had had enough and said, get me someone who can authorise it!!! it was now 1am. Monday 20/10/2008 (the Dr had come to our house at 11.30am 19/10/2009) A Dr arrived and told me it was best to go home as the people who were going to do the MRI had to be called into the hospital and would take some time, so best to let Simon rest, myself and my 2 children left 1.45am. We got home at 2.30am to the phone ringing, it was a consultant from the hospital saying Simon had 2 brain aneurysms one of which had ruptured!! He needed surgery straight away, so he asked us to be there ASAP as this was serious. Simon was taken to theatre at 7.30am to have the ruptured aneurysm coiled. He returned back at 11.30am looking amazing!! smiling and saying he felt much better, we were all so relieved. We were visited by the consultants surgeons registrars ect explaining everything had gone well and the 2nd aneurysm would need to be coiled in 6 weeks. Simon had to stay flat and could sit up in a few days very gradually and go home in 5 days. On the Thursday lunch time visit, Simon was feeling unwell, he was getting his words mixed up flood blood etc. He was being given potassium orally which he thought was making him feel unwell. I spoke to one of the Dr who agreed to give it though his IV. He did not seem himself!!! We went to the cafe to let him rest. On return one of the nurses called over that he was feeling much better. On walking towards him I saw immediately things were definitely not better. In fact Simons face had dropped one side and he was very confused (I don't think he knew me if I am honest) I immediately spoke to a nurse saying I wanted a DR immediately. Two Dr's and a registrar turned up and said they were taking him for an MRI. They returned shortly and took us off to one side and informed us Simon had developed something called Vasospasm caused by the subarachnoid brain hemorrhage which had caused a stroke and needed to go to Critical care immediately. Simon was in Intensive care for 3 weeks and lost the use of his right side he could not talk and he had to be tube fed as he could not swallow properly. Also a catheter. He spent most of the time asleep, it was a terrible time for the family as we were getting no information at all, as we were told we had to make an appointment with the consultants secretary to see him, when we did, he did not even know Simon had a 2nd aneurysm but that’s another story. Simon was transferred to the HD ward 3 weeks later, still very weak, he could slightly move his right leg but not the arm and his speech was still very poor. We were told as we lived in the wrong post-code Simon could not have any rehabilitation there, and would have to wait to be transferred to Leicester (we were in Coventry) what a joke! Simon was desperate to come home as he is the sort of person that does best at home, but he could not walk, go to the toilet and was still being tube fed! Sheer will and determination got him though the next 7 days!! Food tube out, catheter out and walking, I don't know how he did it but he did! They would not agree for him to come home until he could do the stairs, which he did the following day, very unsteadily but they agreed he could come home! The day eventually came and Simon was home, it had been 6 weeks. He was very tired and slept all the time for short periods. He ate little at first and found concentration hard. He had speech therapy, OT and a physio visited us at home, but not for long, as Simon thought it was not much use. We are now 16 months on and Simon is doing great he has movement in the whole of the right side his speech is nearly back to normal as is his appetite just a problem with the fingers really, his personality has totally changed though. He takes aspirin, blood pressure tablets and cholesterol tablets. We are due for an MRI on 10th Feb to see whats going on with the other aneurysm and what the decision is, regarding surgery. We were due to see the consultant 9th March but this appointment has now been changed till May 2010 so a long wait to see if the 2nd aneurysm has grown. We would love to hear any vasospasm stories as we cannot seem to find any, will let you know the outcome.

Sorry if this is a bit long...! My name is Jen and I'm a recent SAH survivor. This is the timeline: 10th February 2010 in the evening: SAH 11th February: transferred to Queen Square - CT angio then attempt at coiling which was unsuccessful 12th February: craniotomy for clipping of aneurysm 13th February: 50th birthday!! As you can imagine, my birthday celebrations were put on hold this year... I was temping as a medical secretary at the local hospital as well as for a BUPA Consultant, working 2 jobs because my partner was out of work and because I had lost my corporate job last August and the NHS one didn't pay half as much. I was under a LOT of stress because the women I was working with at the hospital were at loggerheads with the manager for various reasons, and they were deliberately making life in that department unbearable. I thought I was strong enough to deal with them.... On Weds 10th February I had a stonking headache but I went to my Pilates class at the hospital after work; after all, I had paid for it up front and didn't want to lose out. I didn't work out that hard because I was very, very tired, but I went home happy. I sat down on the sofa to chill out, with a Pepsi Max in one hand and a Crunchie in the other. All of a sudden I felt very unwell. I complained to my daughter that I couldn't get comfortable and started to feel rather panicky. My shoulders and head felt like they were in a pressure cooker, but I tried to tell myself I had just twisted my neck at Pilates because my neck was so stiff. Then I started to feel sick so I asked for a bowl. At this point, I asked my partner to call an ambulance. I remember thinking "this must be what having a stroke feels like", but at the same time I was running through FAST (Facial weakness, Arm weakness, Speech problems, Time to call 999) in my head and thinking hmmm, I can move my arms, my face isn't drooping, I can talk.... it can't be a stroke. The paramedics came and, from the other side of the room, asked me lots of questions, which I answered but found very tiring. They didn't approach me at all, and eventually asked if I wanted to go to hospital or sleep it off. I remember thinking "what is WRONG with you? Can't you SEE I'm terribly unwell???", but just answered quietly that I didn't WANT to go to hospital but knew I had to. They asked me to walk out to the ambulance (!), which I did still holding a bowl, and I sat in one of the seats, trying not to move my head or neck, while my daughter sat in the other. They didn't get me to lie down on the bed or anything... We don't have a car, but luckily we live near the hospital so my partner said he'd meet us there. All I remember after that is throwing up as I was being wheeled through A&E, the light hurting my eyes, and being taken through to a cubicle. Apparently, my 19 yr old daughter did the admin stuff with reception, then my partner arrived. I am told we were moved to a small room and I was put in a gown, and lots of people kept coming and doing neuro obs on me, asking me questions, making me push/pull against them etc. I eventually got taken for a CT, and admitted to AAU, at which point it was around midnight and my daughter and partner went home. During the night someone came and told me I had had a bleed, and that they were talking to the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery in Queen Sq, where I would be taken the next morning. I remember thinking this must be serious at that point! Early next morning I was blue-lighted to Queen Square, but I was very concerned about making sure someone called my partner to explain, so that HE could explain to my daughter. Apparently he played it down so she wouldn't panic. They let my family know (they all live in France) and arranged to come up to London to see me after my op the next day. On arrival at Queen Square I had a CT with dye so that they could visualise the arteries. I don't remember much about it apart from them saying I would feel like I'd wet myself but I wouldn't have: I didn't feel that way at all! The other thing I remember is thinking that all the doctors/radiologists/anaesthetists were very good looking!! Next, they said they would attempt coiling and they wanted me awake for that. Now, I know what I'm like (and I've always dreaded having an angio) so I told them how I'd "tried to get off the operating table" when I had my daughter by Caesarean. They said "we need you still for this" so they put me to sleep. Unfortunately, when I woke up they told me that they couldn't see where the aneurysm might be (or something - it's a bit vague), so I would have to see the surgeon. She came by later to explain that she needed to do a craniotomy because there was an area just above the eye where there was something abnormal, but they weren't sure if it was an aneurysm. Just as she had told me the op was for the next morning, my partner and daughter turned up so she was able to tell them herself. My partner started quizzing her on how many of these ops she'd done etc, and I remember cringing because I knew this was the leading hospital. She took it very well though, and was quite jokey about it. Turns out, she is their leading surgeon, and specialises in vascular problems, so it was quite ironic really.... I really thought I wouldn't sleep that night, but I did. I just felt so awful, I was looking forward to them getting on with it. I thought "all I have to do is go to sleep and let the specialists take over". I had recited various prayers, and felt very calm. I even thought, if I have to die then so be it. The surgeon had obviously had to explain what the risks were, and I knew I could die, although it didn't worry me that much (me! the highly anxious person!). Next morning I asked for pen and paper so I could write letters to my partner and daughter. I didn't want to do "in case of death" letters, but I wanted them to have something that said how much I love them. They found them on my table when they came up to the ward to wait for me, which is what I wanted. I was wheeled down to theatre and taken in for my anaesthetic. Like the day before, I thought that everyone who looked after me looked absolutely gorgeous! It was really weird; I work in a hospital myself and I remember thinking that this was obviously where all the good-looking people came to work. It was so funny! Obviously, I don't remember much after that. After the op I was taken to HDU where my partner and daughter joined me. I was apparently very talkative when I woke up, joking with the nurse about her Yorkshire accent, saying I could fancy fish & chips, trying to sit up, complaining about the catheter etc etc. I have only got my daughter's word for it! One thing I do remember is that when my partner and daughter went to leave I got very upset because my partner wouldn't give me a proper cuddle. He couldn't get the side of the bed down because of the urine bag etc hanging on the side, and I got very agitated. My daughter could see how upset I was, so she held on to the bag and the side of the bed so that he could give me a proper hug. Bless her! The next day (I think), I was brought back to my ward, and I was just happy to not have so many wires coming out of me, hoping I'd get some sleep. All I wanted to do for the first few days was sleep and I was very upset that everyone else seemed to be so noisy. Some of the other patients were further along in their recovery than me, so they were talking loudly, having visitors etc etc. I just wanted them all to shut up and leave me alone! I was being woken every 4 hours for Nimodipine to avoid vasospasm, and I had neuro obs every time as well. I think I was very grumpy! Oh I mustn't forget that the day after my op was my 50th birthday. My partner, daughter and someone else (hiding behind a huge poster of a chocolate cake with a 50 on it) turned up with cake, singing Happy Birthday. Then the poster was lowered and I was astounded to see one of my sisters. I was all "What are you doing here? You live in Paris!". It was lovely. I had some cake, but I really didn't feel like it... She stayed for a few days, and then after she left, one of my brothers turned up - with the same reaction: "What are you doing here? You live in Paris!" He brought me earplugs, courtesy of my sister-in-law (who had to stay outside as she had a chest infection). I also got a parcel from my eldest sister containing among other things a knitted eye-mask which was wonderful because I was still suffering badly from photophobia. Also, the lights are always on in a hospital ward, even when they are dimmed at night, so the eye-mask came in very very handy indeed. To cut a long story short, I was in Queen Square for 4 weeks, partly due to continuing nausea, dizziness, headaches etc, and partly because the ward had an outbreak of the Norovirus just after I got there so they were unable to transfer people to other hospitals. I was moved to a side room in my last week, and then I was moved back to my local hospital for "neuro rehab". Again, I got a side room (thanks to my manager!), and I made a gentle recovery. 6 weeks after my SAH I was allowed home, once I could master the stairs. I do have a ?hygroma inside my head - a collection of fluid between the brain and the skull - and I have a "pseudomeningocele" which is a collection of CSF under the skin by my scar. I am waiting for my follow-up appointment to see how the surgeon wants to deal with it. She said they are usually harmless and usually resolve spontaneously within 3-4 weeks, but mine is persisting. It's unsightly but not painful. I've been home 2 weeks now, and life is beautiful! Well, that is if you don't count money problems: as I was a temp, I have no income and my partner is still out of work. We have applied for Employment and Support Allowance (used to be called incapacity benefit), but they still haven't paid us anything. It will be back-dated to 11th February, and it will be most welcome when it finally arrives! I am extremely lucky in that I have no obvious neurological after-effects. I sometimes use the wrong words, or feel slightly off-balance, but that's about it. The main thing is the TIREDNESS! I am finding it very hard to be so limited and feel like a wuss, but the doctors keep reminding me I've had major brain surgery and that it will take a while to get back to normal. Thank you for setting up this forum - it's wonderful!!

I suffered a Subarachnoid Haemorrhage at 31 years old. I was not in any of the risk groups for stroke, I was not overweight, didn't drink a great deal, didn't smoke and my blood pressure was normal. It happened 13 months after I had completed my training as a teacher. I was working in my first post as a part time nursery teacher. I was fairly stressed during the week before the SAH happened, having a lot to do in work. Looking back I was having some problems with my memory (not being able to remember my husband's mobile number that I normally called at least twice a day for about 10 years) I was also suffering from some headaches. I had had terrible nausea seven days earlier while in work and on the morning of my stroke but it subsided each time and I just put it down to one of those things. I put the headaches and loss of memory down to stress and after speaking to neurologists they have said that these were probably not signs that I was about to have a SAH. It all happened around lunchtime on Saturday 15th May 2004. I had spent the morning at work (I worked on a Saturday as a purchase ledger clerk in a local garage). It was a lovely day and I was feeling very positive, planning to get through lots of things during that afternoon. I had made a list of some things that I wanted to photograph and list on EBay to clear some clutter and make a few pounds. One of these items was a set of alloy wheels that I had bought for my car and never used. I had brought one of the wheels into the house and was cleaning it up in the middle of the living room. I had just finished and kneeled up to admire my handy work, pleased with how well the wheel had come up. I was suddenly hit by the most unbelievable pain in my head; I don't like to describe it as a headache because I just don't think the word headache can ever cover the level of pain I experienced. I was thinking that I needed to get to the couch to lie down. I was talking to myself in my head and saying that if the pain continued I would have to go to the hospital, then arguing back to myself not to be silly, you don't go to hospital with a headache! Then I experienced a peculiar rushing feeling both in my head and all over my body, this was closely followed by complete paralysis from the neck down. I was terrified; I had managed to get to the floor in front of the couch, with my back leaning against the front of it. I then remember waking up with my neck leaning on the corner of the wall. I was talking to myself again, thinking that I would need to move or I was going to die. I managed to get myself a bit more upright, at this point; I was unable to move either of my arms or legs. Slowly a little of the feeling came back into my left arm and I just managed to pull the telephone into reach by the cord. I was terrified that I was about to pull the power cord out, leaving our cordless phone useless. I eventually managed to pick up the phone and after dropping the phone several times I was eventually able to dial 999. The lady on the phone kept asking how the paramedics were going to be able to get in. At this point I was getting even more panicky because I was at home alone with my two dogs barking at anyone who came to the door, I was still unable to move properly and definitely unable to lock the dogs away and open the door. The ambulance arrived and the dogs were going spare, I was worried sick that they would break in and my dogs would escape. I managed to pull my left foot from under my right leg; I had to do this with my hands because I didn't have enough feeling in my leg. At the time there was a pack of laminate flooring on the floor next to where I had landed, I thought that I could lift myself onto it and slide along to the door. I was too weak to lift myself the four inches onto the pack of flooring. Somehow, and I still have no idea how I did it, I managed to pull myself up onto my left leg and shuffle to the door, at this point I still only had some feeling in my left side, less feeling in my right arm and my right leg was completely paralysed. When I got to the door I was horrified because I couldn't see the ambulance as it was parked just out of sight behind our hedge, I had dropped the telephone as I struggled to the door and was terrified that I would be unable to get help. There were some young boys on the corner opposite the house and they told the paramedics I was there. I was taken to Whiston Hospital (Merseyside) where eventually I was sent for a scan. This showed that I had suffered a SAH. I spent a night in Whiston Hospital, the pain in my head was agonising and I was also suffering from photophobia. I was feeling very scared and confused but I was trying to keep everything together for my family who were with me. I was vomiting constantly both from the brain injury and from the Morphine that I was getting regularly. The following morning I was transferred to the Walton Centre for Neurology and Neurosurgery (Liverpool). After spending the night propped up at Whiston I was then told that I had to lie flat and was not even allowed to get out of bed to use the toilet. I spent a nightmare night in the Walton Centre being given Codeine and Paracetamol, neither of which touched the pain. To add to that the lady in the next bed had a vase of lilies beside her bed; these give me a massive headache at the best of times. The following morning it was planned that I would have an angiogram to see exactly where the bleed had come from and then a probably an operation to coil the aneurysm either directly after or the next day. Fairly early in the morning the consultant came to see me and told me that they had decided to take me into theatre and do both the angiogram and the coiling at the same time while I was under general anaesthetic. I was a bit relieved as I had been very frightened of having an angiogram. Someone came round to explain the risks and get me to sign a consent form. At no point had the operation been referred to as an option, this was a must. I was terrified as there was a high risk of death or very severe disablement. After this I was certain that I would either die during the operation or be left with severe brain damage. The care assistant came round to give me a wash before the operation; I asked if I could do this as I was convinced that it would be the last time that I would be able to do anything for myself. I considered writing a letter to my partner Martin for him to read when the worst happened, however, I didn't have time to do this and felt stupid asking for paper and an envelope. I was taken down to theatre about 9 am, Martin, my mum and my sister had not arrived by the time I was on my way down to theatre, as it is almost impossible to find a parking space at the Walton Centre. I was pushed down the corridors watching the lights on the ceiling go by, I have really never been so terrified in my life, I thought I was never going to come back from this and I hadn't even had the chance to tell Martin I loved him. We had never got around to getting married or having children and we weren't ever going to have that chance. Just before I actually went into the theatre my mum and sister came running down the corridor, Martin had let them out while he parked. He followed a few seconds behind. It was like something off the television, with me in tears and him holding my hand as I was being pushed away. I woke up about 6 hours later (I heard someone ask the time in what must have been the recovery room and it was 3.30 pm) Everything was blurry, at first I could only make out figures walking round, my throat was sore, I was very cold and my wrist was sore where I had a huge line in. I was eventually moved up to the high dependency unit (there was no room in the ICU). My family had been told that everything had gone well around lunch time and they came to see me as soon as possible in the HDU. I was given paracetamol for the pain which I thought was bizarre after brain surgery, even though it was not open surgery but through an artery in my groin. I was woken every 15 minutes or so and asked my name, date of birth and what day it was, I was terrified of getting these questions wrong in case they took me back down to surgery. I had an oxygen mask on from when I came out of surgery which I found very uncomfortable; I thought I was feeling claustrophobic with the mask on, finding it difficult to catch my breath. A couple of doctors were brought down to see me in the night; I just wanted to be left to go to sleep. I was then x-rayed and it turns out I part of one of my lungs had collapsed. This was probably due to the amount of Morphine that I had been given whilst in Whiston Hospital. The next day I saw a physiotherapist who got me out of bed into a chair and gave me some exercises to do to fix my lung. I had to stay in the HDU for 4 days, it was very frustrating as I was watching people come and go as they had their surgery and were moved back to the ward, although all of the staff there were fantastic. I had 5 lines going into various parts of my body. The day I was going to be moved back up to the ward I was told I was being taken for a scan, I expected this as I was supposed to be having a scan to check everything was as it should be. I was wheeled down to the scanning room where they tried to inject some dye into a vein. The vein they tried though had had a shunt in for about five days and had blocked up. They then put a new line into my left arm, this really hurt and everything just got to me and I broke down, feeling very sorry for myself. The nurse who had come up with me was brilliant and comforted me. Shortly after this it turns out that I wasn't supposed to go for this scan, they were going to give me another angiogram because there had been a mix up and they thought I hadn't had surgery yet. I was taken back to HDU and then transferred up to a ward. I was placed in a side room and stayed in hospital for a further 5 days. I was glad to be in a side room, away from the hustle and bustle of a full ward, although I was afraid of being forgotten about. On one occasion I had a bit of a funny feeling and was very scared that I was having another stroke, buzzed for help and no one came, I had to shout for several minutes before someone heard me and called for help. Fortunately I was ok and was discharged a few days later. On the day I was due to be discharged I saw a doctor in the morning who told me that I would be able to go home at the end of the day when my drugs had been sorted. My mum and partner arrived for a visit and I managed to go for a little walk with them to a little courtyard within the hospital. I couldn't go far as I was very tired and I was suffering from terrible back pain. When I returned from this walk, in a lot of pain and ready for a sleep, I got back to my room to find a strange man in my bed. This really confused me as at this point I was still a bit confused and not certain of anything. It turned out that the nurses had stuffed all of my things into a couple of carrier bags and put this man in my bed. My drugs were not ready to collect so in the end I went home in my pyjamas and my partner had to return four hours later to collect my drugs. I was given no advice as to what I could or could not do; I wasn't told about any side effects of the drugs or given any support whatsoever. I am sure that you will understand that after such a traumatic time it is a very scary to go home anyway, never mind without any support. After all of that I have been one of the lucky ones and I have very few ill effects from my stroke, chronic migraine, memory problems, and I cannot bear noise, amongst other things. However, I am able to walk and talk and look after myself. I still experience very vivid flashbacks which are horrible but on the whole I am feeling fairly positive about how lucky I am. Martin and I got married on 20th August 2005, a day I thought I would never see. I have not gone back to work yet, 6 years on, but I did help out in a local school and do the odd half day of supply work for a while. I am now a full time mummy to a 2 year old daughter, another wonderful gift I never thought I'd have. I don't think I will ever go back to work full time, I can now appreciate that there are far more important things in life than work. Martin has been fantastic and I really couldn't wish for a better person to share my life with. He puts up with me bursting into tears every time there is something even vaguely brain related on the television, in the newspaper, or just when I'm having a bit of a bad day. I will never understand these bouts of crying because I have never once thought, 'why me?' or thought I have been unlucky in having a stroke, on the contrary I know that I am incredibly lucky to have got off as lightly as I did. I even agree with one of the survivors on the different strokes website, who classes himself as having a 'stroke of luck', it has given me a whole new outlook on life. Viki

Wednesday evening 07/01/09, I noticed a sharp metallic taste as I ate my meal - my stomach churns even now 16 months later when I think of it! I still can’t face the same meal! Thank heaven it wasn’t my favourite! I’d felt a tad below par for a few weeks, it started after a really bad headache which I’d thought was a migraine. Ever since then I’d had a dull head ache every morning which wore off during the day. Just after I finished eating my meal, the same type of headache came back with a vengeance. I thought my head would explode. After a few minutes the pain subsided, I went to get a glass of water, took two steps forward and collapsed. I lay there unconscious for a several minutes, when I came round my mouth was strangely dry and crusty around the corners. I was home alone, I crawled to the phone to call my daughter, and she said to call NHS direct. NHS direct asked a lot of questions during which time I was violently sick. I could hear the woman calling my name and could tell by her tone she was cross with me; she probably thought I was drunk! She said as I’d collapsed I should get checked out and asked if I knew where my local A & E was. That was that, what was I making a fuss about! I called my daughter back, she lives over 100 miles away, I had a job convincing her not to drive over. I told her I would get checked out in the morning if I didn’t feel any better. The next thing I remember was Friday the 9th. I awoke post operative a man in green scrubs standing next to me, then I heard one of my daughters gentle voice ‘Mum your in Hospital, you had a brain haemorrhage and you’ve had an operation. You had an aneurysm, you’re lucky you survived, Mum your very poorly!’ I floated in and out of Morphine induced sleep with my daughters and my nephew repeatedly giving me the details of how I’d got there. Over and over they told me until I was satisfied. As I lay there listening I felt a strange feeling of peace and tranquillity, a calmness which wasn’t befitting my situation. I thought ‘I’ve got to get through this; somehow I have to pull through! Thursday afternoon after I’d collapsed two friends had phoned; I’d chatted to both and told them I had a migraine. My daughter had called me later in the afternoon to check how I was; we had a ‘normal’ conversation. I’d convinced her that I would be fine after a good rest. Just as the call ended I’d asked what we were having for our Christmas dinner and sounded very surprised when she said we’d had it two weeks ago. She immediately made plans to come over. At the same time she alerted my sister in law and my nephew who came straight away. When they arrived I was in a confused state and complained that my head and the back of my neck hurt, I was sick whilst they were there. They took me straight to A&E where I was rushed through triage. By the time my daughter arrived a scan had confirmed a bleed on my brain and plans were in place to transfer me to Hope Hospital Salford where I was diagnosed as having a grade 2 SAH and was to have a procedure using platinum to coil a ruptured aneurism in the left post comm artery as soon as a slot came available. I have no memory of any of this. I’d been chatting coherently all the time and given the doctors several explanations as to why my head and neck hurt ranging from; a ski accident, whiplash from a car accident or having drunk too much wine! It’s really spooky not remembering. Perhaps my mind had shut it all out. When I came round post op I wasn’t shocked or as frightened as I’d expect, it was as though I knew! My first days on HDU were mixed with pain and a constant round of essential checks to keep me alive, everyone moved faster than normal, noise louder and sharper, lights were blinding everything was different. Morphine released me from my mantra ‘I must get through this’ as well as providing welcome respite from the pain, its induced hallucinations kept me occupied. I was convinced there were parties every night after visiting. Book clubs and painting clubs celebrated their achievements with cheese and wine. Their partying was full of noisy laughter keeping me awake. I was getting more and more miffed at being left out. I complained that I was uninvited and only discovered that the ‘parties’ coincided with the handover at the nurses station on shift change after quite a few restless nights! After 5 days I left HDU, this signified the next stage of my recovery. I was happy. Unfortunately this was short lived. I developed complications within 24 hours and gradually lost the ability to communicate as my brain went into vasospasm. My family had come to visit and noticed that some of my words didn’t make sense, soon none of my words made sense. I developed a language all of my own which amused me, but not my family! I call this my ‘eski weskit washin elves and benzyl’ phase. Eventually I lost the ability to communicate in any form and threw a pencil at the wall in sheer frustration because I couldn’t remember how to use it let alone what it was called. The last thing I recall was the frightened, bewildered faces of my family as I was packed off to HDU -and to the parties! Several scans an angiogram and four days later I started to make sense of what was being said to me, slowly but surely my comprehension and communicating powers returned. I can’t explain the euphoria when I spoke my first sentence and got a response which proved I’d been understood. My family squealed with delight. They’d been given little hope and tried to prepare themselves to accept and cope with what ever part of me that came back from this. Just so long as I came back. It was decided that dehydration was the cause of my demise. There were no more set backs, I maintained enough progress to go home after almost 3 weeks. Before I left I was advised that I must surrender my driving license. The specialist nurse said not to drive until I’d been given the green light at my follow up appointment in 3 to 6 months time! I was devastated; it signified the loss of my independence which up until that moment in time I had not allowed myself to even contemplate. As far as I was concerned I’d be up and running as per norm in 3 months tops! What was she saying? My heart sank as I was told something of what I might experience in my recovery. She told me that it would be like taking ‘baby steps’, to listen to my body. It slowly dawned on me that my life had changed for ever, my future, uncertain. I decided there and then to take each day as it comes and never to be beaten! And to stay positive and strong. Shortly after I got home a fistful of hair fell out where the coils had been placed. It was nothing to worry about and soon grew back! Visitors exhausted me; I couldn’t cope with washing and getting dressed without having a rest in-between for weeks. And when I managed to get up and dressed everyday fatigue plagued me. Thoughts of going out of the house on my own were daunting; the first time I did was planned with military precision! When out of the house I felt fatigued really quickly, I felt disorientated, dizzy and panicky. It felt like everyone was rushing toward me aggressively, my reactions were slow. I was noise sensitive light sensitive and I clung onto who ever I was with. Then there was the long pause in conversation whilst I word searched, the stuttering and short term memory loss. When I eventually got to drive again where had I parked the car! (Post-its are a wonderful invention and for me have been a life saving one!)Then there is the ‘brain fog’. Even now at times it still hurts to think! Recovery has proved challenging, it’s different for all of us. I’m still adapting. I have two wonderful daughters and friends who have been prepared to take on the ‘new me’ and adapted with me without judgement. I had other friends who were (sadly) not prepared to and didn’t! A good friend of mine always says to me that if I had a bandage on my finger I would get more sympathy. But this recovery of ours is not called a hidden illness for nothing. There are still times when I feel self conscious, sure it’s obvious that I’m searching for my words, or having difficulty getting the words out. And that the brain fog has taken over and I need time out! Times too when the hot flushes are unbearable, the night sweats even worse! But hey, so long as my platinum tiara stays put, I’ll cope! The first time I went supermarket shopping was a nightmare and for a couple of months fatigue got the better of me. Then one day I got into a wheel chair and had my first taste of semi independence, I never looked back. I soon graduated to one of those battery operated scooter things that have huge baskets on the front! Liberated at last! I knocked over rail after rail of fashion in M&S, got disowned by my pals but was the envy of many a husband of a shopoholic who fought to try a 3 point turn for me when I got stuck. When things got really bad I would pop over to the café where a very understanding member of staff had assisted me once when I’d had fatigue. She‘d arranged for chairs to be put near the café entrance so someone like myself could seek refuge if there was a queue. My world continues to change in ‘baby steps’ and there are times when I think I might never improve beyond the now and I grieve for the life I lost. But I’ve learned to celebrate every milestone. Recently I walked up a very small part of Catbells -a fell in the Lake District. It felt like a mountain, I had a huge smile on my face and my heart sang as I surveyed the magnificent view from where I sat. Life is full of fabulous firsts! I am grateful to all those At Hope Hospital who gave me back my life. I believe I was in the best place possible and have received excellent after care so far. I am grateful to the specialist nurse who gave me the address of this site of which I have been a ‘silent member’ since last year. I haven’t been able to write my story up until now and I have no idea why! I would like to say a BIG THANK YOU to all of you on this site for your input. You have been a constant source of inspiration to me. I think you’re all courageous. I’m proud to be one of a very special group of people known as a SAH SURVIVOR.

Hello all… my name is ‘Blueday’, well no it isn’t, but a name is a name is a name. When I tried to register here with my actual name and e mail I was rejected. The computer told me I was a ‘Spammer’ and so refused. I did tell the computer that I wasn’t..I had a Subarachnoid Haemorrhage and a Stroke with Aphasia. That is why you are reading this and not hearing it from my mouth. I even tried again and again with the computer….but rejected me. I even said “Please… let me in” and frustrated, but even with just half a brain you can learn ”Slowly, slowly catch a monkey!” so blueday was born. This story is actually not about blueday at all. Blueday put a potted history about his SAH and illness in my Aphasia page. Yes the wrong place….. a few more details are there. This story is about ‘Izzy’. Izzy is a dog (female) [ as I can’t say ***** here] Izzy is a pedigree Shih Tzu *****…oops! (I always have to be so careful when I say that). She is 4 years and 4 months old now……but there is a reason why she was put on this earth. Now she lives with us and Khan….Genghis Khan (Shih Tzu dog/male) who is 6 month old pup…so no surprise who is the Boss. I’m sure your thinking …… as I enunciate correctly, why Shih Tzu’s? Well, my other two dogs are Dobermanns. Strong and quick……all dogs are loyal, so am I….to Dogs as I am a Dog Man! When Izzy was a small puppy I always played games with her. Playing the fool……walking into the lounge..’Agh’ I played playing dead laying on the floor as she jumped on me, licking me….tail wagging! This is a true story. It was 7th March 2006, something you always remember burnt on to half of my brain. My Lover who was dashing out leaving home a little late for work….whose name for these purposes was ‘Angel’ she was kissed at the door as I waved her off at 8:45 am. I walked to the kitchen to make tea….. then BANG!....wow….dizzy and losing my balance……….deep breaths, panting breaths continuously deep in and out, more air as I panted. What’s the matter with me…..it’s just a bad morning; it will pass with more deep breaths. I best lie down before I fall. Staggering to the lounge holding on to walls….where is the sofa before it passes, like it has done before. Just a bad day! I never made it there…..I collapsed. I just want to sleep….just lay down before I fall. What I didn’t know then now I can fill in the gaps. Going into a coma as my body was preparing itself to check out. It’s natural that when your body is going, it goes natural; as everything leaves your body………get my gist? No further explanation is necessary….in case I meet you again. Izzy did her job……..jumping on me….licking me constantly on my mouth on my lips…which I can assure you she has never done that since that day. She brought me back. Bringing me round…. I still had no idea what was my predicament…..but constant vomiting…just liquid I couldn’t stop! In my head ‘phone help’. Thankfully grabbing my mobile I pressed direct call to my Angel. “Come back…….not well” as I vommited again and seeing the mess….it can’t be me it must have been the dog…as I push her off still licking me. Somehow I showered myself and changed as my Lover was seen as my Angel. Still we didn’t know what was the matter, as she carefully drove me to the hospital as gently as she could drive. Each movement and jerk pounded my head. She didn’t go to work that day. I gave my name and all the details with my eyes closed…talking slowly as we later had to wait to see the Triage nurse. Offering me Aspirin for my head as I had to wait. Angel explained I am allergic to Aspirin so offered me Paracetemol. We sat there for 4 hours. Until I collapsed again and went in to a Coma like. That got their attention. All that I adequately remember over the next 2 months before 1 month rehabilitation. I was coiled twice. When I was let home………Izzy went berserk when she saw me again…so did I. I have been told since; if I had gone into a prolonged coma with internal bleeding without attention until Angel got home from work…I wouldn’t be writing this. Izzy is my heroine! So this just closes a page in our lives. Blueday, Angel with Izzy and Khan and the Dobies. In our house Izzy is still a celebrity as my extended family know about these events. With the dogs at the park and other dogs chase little Izzy…..the bigger Dobies do their job too, so strangers stand off! ‘I’m a Celebrity get me out my Shih Tzu !!!’

Friday morning, 29th October, 2004 and I really really didn't feel like going to work. I felt sick and my shoulder and neck were so sore that I led out flat on the living room floor. Work was going to be hectic that day – we'd just changed our phone supplier over to BT, and we were anticipating problems, which were effectively mine to resolve. On the plus side, work was in Bath, and that was halfway to my then boyfriend, Tink's house in Bristol – and that was where I was planning to spend my weekend. So I took my rucksack, made my way to the train station, and went to work. As suspected, our phone lines were routed incorrectly, and the company was effectively losing business as each minute passed. It was all a bit of a disaster really, and when I phoned our “dedicated contact” I realised that no one had told him of this new role, and he definitely had his jobsworth's hat on. We argued for a few minutes; I'm embarrassed to admit that I probably wasn't being very professional, but I was so sore, I couldn't sort myself out. The phone call came to a very heated conclusion, and as I stood up after disconnecting I felt as though I was hit twice on the back of the head with a large plank. My boss was talking to our Comms Manager, Adrian, and I went to update them. “I think I'm having an aneurysm” I said, although as far as I know I'd never heard of an aneurysm, let alone knew what one was. I made my way down three flights of stairs to go outside for a cigarette. I was a heavy smoker, 20 a day, and I always really enjoyed it. If I had a cold, or a cough, I still always wanted a ciggie. Not that day though; I stood outside and realised I felt far too ill to smoke, a scary moment indeed (!) I took the lift back upstairs, and locked myself in the disabled loo. By now my head was really very painful, and although I didn't know it at the time, I was talking to myself in the loo, and briefly refused to come out. Whilst my colleague Elly told my lovely workmate Gilly that something was wrong, I made my way up the final flight of stairs and laid out on the sofa in the staff room. I clearly remember Gilly trying to convince me to let her take me to Tink's so I could rest up, and, quite unusually for me, I was rude and grumpy, trying to get her to leave me alone. What I didn't realise at the time was that I suddenly looked very ill, and Gilly said she wanted to take me to hospital instead. I was so weary of her nagging at me (!) that I said she could do what she liked. Such a gracious patient! Gilly went to see my boss, who said “Tell her to go home if she's ill!” and Adrian, who asked if she could wait a couple of minutes, “No! I need you to come now!” my saviour said. I remember the journey down in the lift, which seemed very comical to me at the time. Adrian and Gilly supported me, whilst other colleagues wanted to help, wanted to know what was happening. Inside my head, I felt very aware of everything that was happening – I felt a bit embarrassed, convinced we were making a fuss about nothing. They piled me into the back of the work's Touran, and we headed off on the short jouney to Bath Royal United Hospital (RUH). It was bumpy and I can remember thinking that if I was ill all the bouncing couldn't be helping much. I still felt very aware at this point, although I didn't realise until recently that I looked very very ill, and in fact Gilly was scared that I would die in the car. Despite this, we walked a short way to the casualty department, whilst Adrian parked up, though I think poor (and little) Gilly had to bear most of my weight. We saw the receptionist, who wanted all the usual details – name, address, GP, surgery address. Now, as far as I was aware at the time, I carefully explained to the receptionist, that I was very sorry, and that, whilst I knew the details, I just couldn't say the words out loud for her, it was all just too much effort. It was only recently that I found out I talked absolute drivel to the receptionist, making no sense at all. We bypassed the people waiting in reception, and fairly quickly overtook those who'd made it through the swing doors on the “urgent list”. Gilly and Adrian were left with the task of updating the receptionist, at which point they realised I'd never told them Tink's real name, Andy Tinker – so on my notes my next of kin was listed as Mr Tink! There was a lovely bloke on duty, in his green outfit – I think he was called Alex. He asked “Is it the worst headache in the world?” - well, as far as I was concerned, it definitely was, and he arranged a CT scan. I dont remember that scan at all, but I do remember Alex crouching down to tell me afterwards that I'd had a bleed on the brain. My lovely friend Gilly has a phobia about people being sick – so whilst I was being sick, I kept trying to say that she could wait outside, and telling her how sorry I was – at least I redeemed myself after being mean to her earlier in the day! I remember asking the nurses if it was ok to go to sleep, I think that may well have been after they gave me a large shot or morphine. Gilly and Adrian have since said there was a marked improvement in my condition once the drugs kicked in! They were convincing themselves that it wouldn't be anything too major, when they heard Alex arguing on the phone with the staff at Frenchay Hospital in Bristol, apparently he was shouting that he needed a bed for me very urgently. I can only imagine how horrible it must have been for the two of them. After all that they also had to phone Tink, and tell him to get to Frenchay to meet me, what a task. Alex was so lovely, he came to see me at the end of his shift, whilst I was waiting for an ambulance, to wish me luck. I'm so grateful to him for his speedy diagnosis. I have a very vague recollection of the ambulance journey – oh the joys of morphine! Tink was there to meet me at Frenchay, and by this stage I'd lost track of time. I think it must have been early afternoon, but it seemed later in my mind. Poor Tink was told to keep me awake, and “with it” – no one told me however, so I know I repeatedly said “Shhhh! Let me sleep!!” I was a bit surprised when my Mum arrived with two of my sisters, and one of their boyfriends, Kev. I made my Mum cry instantly – I had my eyes closed when she arrived, but she sniffed, and it was such a familiar sound that I said “Guess my Mum is here then” - I thought this was hilarious, but she, it turns out, did not! Mum later told me that she knew it was something serious, when they were taken to a room which had signs everywhere advising where to get refreshments, only to have a nurse turn up with a pot of tea for the family. I was quite mean to poor Kev, telling him to go away and not listen when the doctor's were talking about me, and I also told my eldest sister to go away or to stop staring at me whilst I was sleeping. I'd like to say I didn't know what I was saying, but I have to admit I did! The scariest thing at this stage was finding out that I had a drain in my spine. It was pro-active, set to draw fluid off, and I was terrified that they'd forget to turn it off, or that I would damage my spine if I moved at all. I was mightily relieved when they took it away. I was given more morphine at some stage and Tink asked if it took the pain away, “Nope” I said, “but I dont care about it anymore!” He was allowed to stay until about 23:00, well beyond visiting times, and looking back I can only imagine what a lonely motorbike journey it was back to his house. I remember the overnight ward sister, Lin. She was quite stern, and I adored her. When she realised I only had thong-type knickers with me, she said “Shall we ask your family to bring you some proper pants?” I nodded feebly, too weak to defend my underwear! It wasn't a neuro ward, and it was chaos. Drunken elderly men trying to remove neck braces, and a very naughty little old lady who seemed to enjoy making a lot of noise and causing trouble. In the middle of it all I remember a young man being rushed in, family in attendance. He too had had a SAH, but the after effects for him were far worse; he suffered severe brain damage and now requires full-time care from his mum. I was very determined to be well-behaved for Lin, and she praised me no end – though she wouldn't let me take my own tablets; she insisted on putting them into my mouth followed by a drink with a straw so I could swallow them down. I felt a lot stronger the next day – though some ex-colleagues came to visit (despite being asked not to), and they sat there talking to each other and laughing and joking. I found it a huge effort and really wanted them to leave. The day nurse, who reminded me of Caroline Quentin, was really cross with them, and she told me afterwards that she was only a few minutes away from asking them to go. Tink was there again, solid as a rock, trying to help me understand what was going on, and what the treatment would involve. It all made lots of sense, although I didn't see that there were any choices in the matter, even when the risks were explained. I do know that I got the percentages muddled up, and merrily thought I was at far less risk than I was. I was quite shocked when TinK explained it later! I was chuffed to see Sister Lin again as the night shift started, “Oh, you look much better today!” she said with a big smile, and I felt so proud. One thing I did find difficult was the volume of liquid we were expected to consume combined with having to use a bedpan – not an easy task when you're trying to lie flat at any time, let alone when you're necking gallons of water and wanting a wee every half hour! I felt so grateful to the nurses, and I really didn't want to be a bother. I do remember the constant questions, “Who is the prime minister?”, “Where are you?”, “What date is it?” - I always tried to keep up my good humour, and make jokes back at the nurses – poor things, I'm sure they'd heard it all before. The Caroline Quentin lookalike told me I was the most positive SAH patient she'd ever met – but it didn't ever occur to me to be any other way. I did take issue with the date question after I'd been in hospital for more than 5 days – how the heck was I supposed to keep track of it?!? That first weekend did pass in quite a blur – of sleep, and tests, and questions and check ups. “Caroline” was the last person I saw from that ward, as on the Monday I went to have my platinum coils fitted. Poor Tink walked alongside my trolley to the radiologists room. I've been told that Frenchay has the longest corridor in any UK hospital, and it certainly feels like it. With a good luck kiss and a final squeeze of the hand, Tink was left behind, and it was just me and the staff. The radiologist, Mr Monaghan, had an all-female team, and they were in high spirits when I was wheeled in. They were lovely, holding my hands and talking to me as they administered the anaesthesia. I know my tears spilled over as I went under, but my last memory was their gentle smiles and soothing hands. How different the operation was for my poor Tink, it took a couple of hours longer than it was supposed to, I'm not sure why as I dont think there were complications, but I cannot imagine what it must have been like for him. The only time I was not a “model patient” (in my eyes, at least!) was on coming round afterwards. I felt very panicky and sick, and teary. The lovely lady in the recovery room, who'd obviously seen it all before was not at all phased by my comments - I berated her because she'd promised I could go to the ward, and when the allotted five minutes had passed without action, I was most upset! I inadvertently offended one of the nurses on Ward 4, where I was to begin my real recovery. I said that she was slim, like me. What I hadn't realised was that I was losing weight – I was a very slim 8stone 2lbs when I went into hospital, and a scary 7stones 5lbs when I left. I was absolutely overjoyed to see Tink – it wasn't quite so pleasant for him though, as I had the oxygen line under my nose, and a cannula in each hand, and in both arms as well – must have been scary to see. I was obviously quite institutionalised by that stage, as they didn't bother me at all! In the Frenchay neuro wards there are three beds at the end of the ward, for those who require a lot of care, with their own little team of nurses. Once you progress away from there you know you're doing ok. I shared with two other SAH-ers, one of whom I never saw, as she was photo-sensitive, and permanently had her face covered. The other was a lady in her 60's whose name I can't remember. I overtook her in recovery though, as she developed MRSA. It didn't take long to get very bored of the 15 minute checks. Or the hospital food, which is just not geared up for lying flat. I remember trying to eat a sandwich and the contents going everywhere. I was relieved to have a catheter fitted, as at least I didn't have to keep asking for a bedpan. We were looked after very very well, with careful washing every day, and regular changes of bed linen. Even the bed curtains were changed twice during my 10 day stay. I have the utmost respect for the nurses - I asked several of them if they'd realised how much of their time would be spent on cleaning and toileting people and they were all very good natured about it. It had never occurred to me that there was so much of that to be done. I had a very scary moment one evening. The registrar was examining the lady opposite me, whilst a nurse was carrying out my checks. All of a sudden, I retched, and drew my legs up in an involuntary reaction – almost immediately a five inch circle around the entry wound in my groin turned black, and started to swell up. “Um, Doctor...” said the nurse. “Just a minute” said the Doctor. “No, NOW!” said the nurse – yet again I was causing a fuss Luckily it was just a hematoma, although it took weeks for the resulting bruising to disappear, and it looked suitably dramatic. I had a few pleasant surprises too – Tink rode back to my flat in Trowbridge, and picked up my beloved Flat Eric soft toy, I can remember being overjoyed when he appeared at the end of my bed. Because I was struggling to eat much, and I had a craving for Burger King (I know, I know!) Tink also nipped off and brought me back a burger – the hospital were very accommodating, and more than happy to see me scoff it down. I received flowers from work, and from one of our major suppliers – sadly they had to stay in the day room, as we weren't allowed flowers in the high dependency end of the ward. Remember BT? Well, they sent me a very large, very plush teddy bear. I'll say no more on that subject! Once I progressed down the ward, after about a week, there was a lot more going on. The checks were still very frequent, but I was allowed to half sit, and eating was much easier. They struggled a few times to find a pulse in my feet, and I remember asking almost anyone who passed if they would tuck my feet back in properly! Being allowed to go for a sit down shower with minimal supervision was a major breakthrough, but also surprisingly emotional, and I cried and cried. It was around this time I had a conversation with the ward sister Debbie - “I guess I've sort of given up smoking, havent I?” I asked in a resigned voice, whilst watching another patient start on her epic 45 minute journey to get outside, have a ciggie and get back in again. After almost 10 days without smoking, and not having had a chance to miss it, I figured I'd be silly to start again. “You can never smoke again” said Debbie. “We're giving you drugs to keep your veins nice and fat, and if you smoke they'll instantly shrink again, so it's too risky” Now, a lot of you will probably think she was wrong to say that, but I'm grateful to her, as she frightened me out of any wish to start smoking again. And I do think I gave up the easy way I had a little bit of physio, just to check I could get about ok. I was very weak, and the little walks up and down the ward were a real challenge, but the other patients cheered me on, as did my beloved Tink. The lovely Gilly came to help take me home, and I saw the shock on her face when she saw me – it was the first time I realised I'd lost weight, and I was pretty shocked myself. They had a collection at work, and raised £200 (it was a big company!) - then the CEO office agreed to match that. I wanted to donate it all to the nurses on the ward, but my colleagues insisted on splitting it 50/50. Gilly was tasked with spending the money and she bought me a variety of craft kits and other goodies to keep me busy whilst I was off work. We had no clue that I would continue to sleep for about 18 hours (or more!) a day for most of my time off. We also didn't figure that I'd feel quite so sick in the car on the way home – I was trying so hard not to be poorly, and Gilly blatantly lied about the distance, constantly saying “Just another five minutes!” When we finally reached Tink's house I burst into tears once again, although it was all over in a few minutes. I am so grateful to my lovely Gilly – I send her a thankyou card on each anniversary, as I know that without her I wouldn't be alive. Guaranteed to reduce her to tears, every time! I was so lucky – Tink was self employed and worked from home, so he told everyone he was working with that they'd have to wait, so that he could look after me. I dont think I truly appreciated what a difficult time it must have been for him, or how scared he must have been. I dont think I was that considerate whilst I was I was in those early stages. We were spoiled rotten by the people he was writing software for – we were sent 100's of baby pansies for the garden from Jersey, along with wonderful chocolates from Hotel Chocolat. Nom nom! For the first few weeks I spent an awful lot of time on the sofa, sleeping, watching daytime tv, and eating. 16:00 meant Escape to the Country and Tink cooking my tea, essential when bedtime is about 19:30! We started doing little walks around the estate, with Tink's neighbours waving me on as I progressed further and further – Tink would practise lifting me up and carrying me – ostensibly to prove he could carry me if I needed rescuing, but mainly to make me laugh. I put on weight very quickly - being force fed and not moving, along with giving up smoking – and I was 10stone before I knew it! I enjoyed it though, and at 5'8” it was a much healthier weight. Tink showed me the “letter from your brain”, and it was the first time I understood that I might never be quite the same again. I cried, but not for too long – I felt too lucky to be alive at all. Lots of things changed. I was sad to find I could no longer play my beloved “shoot em up” computer games, and even now they make me feel sick and dizzy after just half an hour. Crowds, and loud noise both became an issue. On the plus side, I used the money I saved to pay for horse riding lessons, which I'd wanted to do since I was a kid, but had previously not had the spare cash for. My employer was wonderfully supportive, they didn't question my being signed off for three months, and I was on full pay. I was ferried to the big Christmas party for an hour, and was treated like visiting royalty! Tink and I had been together about 7 years by then, and he said he'd only really realised how much I meant to him whilst I was in hospital, when he realised that I might die. We spent a lovely Christmas together, with his family, and with mine. On new years eve we watched the fireworks over Bristol. Well, I watched the fireworks and Tink watched me. I knew he was going to propose, but he waited till the following day, as I was tired out by 10 past midnight! My first engagement ring was a yellow plastic one from a cracker! We went into Bristol a few days later and chose the real thing. It was the start of a great time - even finding out I had a 2nd aneurysm was just a small blip, and I spent another lovely month at Tink's house after getting that one coiled. Work were still very supportive overall, encouraging me to take my time. The only thorn in my side was my boss, who sidelined me into a job I didn't like. I didn't feel brave enough to fight at that time, although I later realised he was a terrible bully who wanted me in a role where I couldn't cause him any “trouble”. It all worked out well, he eventually left under a dark cloud, and I got a very well paid job out of it! Sadly, Tink and I started to grow apart. The changes in my life meant I wanted to take things easy, to rest up a lot, but the experiences we'd been though made Tink realise he wanted to live a more exciting life, he wanted to get out there and party – at a time when I couldn't imagine anything worse. We fought it for a long time, as neither of us wanted it to end, but eventually we realised it was the right thing to do. Almost immediately Tink joined a fantastic ACDC tribute band, Livewire, and life for him took off in a brilliant way. We stayed very very good friends – you can't go through what we did and be anything else really! I was happy for him, but very sad for me, it felt like I would never be in love again. Before I started dating again I even asked him if he was really, really sure – but he was Eventually I found the lovely Brendan, right there in front of me, at work. He's my dream man, kind, caring, gorgeous – we went on a date (after I hinted an awful lot) and we moved in together six weeks later! He's my soulmate, and I feel truly blessed. What lovely, good men I've had in my life! Tragically Tink was diagnosed with terminal cancer last year. He was incredibly positive, and determined to beat it. Just two weeks after finishing radiotherapy he was playing a three hour gig in Belgium! In a shocking turn of events, Tink and his girlfriend Jane were both fatally injured whilst test-driving a Westfield sports car. I was lucky enough to have the chance to say my goodbyes to him in hospital, where we also found out that the cancer had spread. I'm so glad that he never found out, and I'm especially glad that he was living the rock'n'roll lifestyle he so wanted. I feel very lucky to have been his friend, and privileged to have spent 10 years with him. I'm so glad I had Brendan to support me through a difficult time. I've come to terms with the changes in me, and the things that effect me post-SAH. My hypothalamus was effected, so I struggle to regulate my temperature and am often absolutely boiling when everyone else is searching for their gloves, or freezing cold when others are hot. It also effects my appetite – I'm either starving hungry from morning till night, or I can't stand the sight of food. I find it harder to learn new things, although that's getting better over time, and I suffer from fatigue, as do so many others on the site. I love the new me though, I'm far softer, and kinder – a much nicer person. I think I like the new me more than I like the old one. I dont regret my SAH happening, and I see so much of it as being positive. Thankyou for reading my story, if you managed to stick it out this far – and now you know why I'm a platinum blonde Love from Blondie xxx

It has taken a while to write but I wanted to post my story which started back in 2002: I recall having had problems months earlier whereby I experienced sudden spells of dizziness and headaches which seemed to last for weeks. It was like having a permanent hangover. It was quite disconcerting at the times, but I put it down to an inner ear thing or perhaps stress and I didn’t think any more about it. I had been in my new job as an OT for three months now but I was still learning the ropes. One week before the SAH, I was walking along the seafront with my partner. I had felt overwhelmingly tired and was irritable with it. I really couldn’t imagine how short a walk like this could be so draining. The day before the haemorrhage I was assisting my manager with interviews for support staff at the hospital where I work. As it was my first time interviewing I was quite nervous and I had a thumping headache throughout. I felt dreadful but I just imagined that it would pass. I was so pleased when we finished and all I could think of now to go on holiday to Dartmoor for the week and I had only three days to go. It was June 12th 2002 - In the background England was playing in the World Cup while I was eating my breakfast. I was catching a bus today as my partner was unable to give me a lift. Usually we travelled together by car. We worked across two hospital sites on the opposite side of town. I was quite miserable at the prospect of going on the bus. I was feeling exhausted and headachy. It felt as if the bus was taking forever and weaved around every back street before reaching my destination. As soon as I got off the bus I lit up that final cigarette to accompany me on my short walk to work. On arriving, I managed to catch a glimpse of the England football game on the patients TV and it wasn’t looking good for them but I couldn’t stick around to offer encouraging noises as I was due in a ward round meeting at 9 o’clock. At the ward round there where roughly 10 people sitting in a circle; tightly jammed into a small dark room with only enough oxygen for a couple of golden retrievers. There was a Psychiatrist, Specialist Registrar, junior doctors, nurses and a depressed man with his family sat by his side. It was my turn to contribute to the discussion from an Occupational Therapist's point of view. I uttered a few words and then it happened. A powerful whooshing sensation made my head spin so hard I moaned with the pain and seconds later that’s when the lights when out. I woke up minutes later on the floor in the middle of the circle – I could not open my eyes as the light was painful, my head hurt so badly. The room was empty now. I felt sick, shaky, stunned! Then I felt pins and needles down one side of my body and the lights went out again. Apparently when the lights went out I was having seizures. On waking and moving onto my side I started to be sick and a man in a green uniform asked me my name but I couldn’t tell him – I was in shock. He reassured me in the ambulance that I would be home soon and it looked like I had had a panic attack. I thought to myself, Yes, I’m sure he was right but I knew myself that I was also having a stroke. I was wheeled into A&E on a trolley and was parked in the corridor. I understand that I did not see anybody for ages. I recall yelling for help and what I thought happened was that they gave me an injection of lorazepam which they did but it was for the sole purpose to shut me up. I recall trying to see but everything was too bright and fuzzy. 6 hours later, I understand that a doctor from my work telephoned A and E and visited to try to emphasize the need for me to have a head scan. I was still on a trolley in the corridor waiting to see someone. Although he was a mental health doctor he also had a neurosurgical background and was concerned I was not being scanned. I don’t recall having the scan but it showed a ruptured brain aneurysm. I was still on this trolley when I heard a familiar voice which was my partner, but I did not care much and drifted in and out. My partner had noticed that I had been given a saline drip to keep me hydrated but I did not receive this until 24 hours later. My partner went home for a few hours sleep while we waited for me to be transferred to the neuro unit 30miles away. I was still on a trolley but in a cubicle now. My partner had returned and it was about 36 hours since the subarachnoid haemorrhage and she noticed that my saline drip had not been switched on. My partner said that my personality had changed, I was confused and paranoid. I was said to be dis-inhibited and was over familiarising myself with people saying I worked with them. I am very grateful to A & E for their help in assessing me but I was said to be seriously dehydrated and allowed to walk to the loo which could have led to a further bleed but thankfully it did not. Looking back on it now, the whole A&E experience was fraught but thankfully I was not sent home with a diagnosis of a panic attack. 36 hours later I was on another winding journey but this time not to home but to Hurstwood Park. An angiogram showed a ruptured middle cerebral artery aneurysm which required a craniotomy and clip. I had the op four days later and all went well but I became hypoxic and was diagnosed with multiple pulmonary embolisms. I was given warfarin to treat this. My parents had flown back from Greece at this point cutting there holiday short to be with us. The two weeks that followed felt quite muddled and I struggled to physically and mentally get going, however, with the nurses and physio support I was up and pottering around the ward. The headache and nausea continued for a while and I had been left with weakness and pain in my left side. What can I say? Hurstwood Park staff were amazing and very patient with me. I was discharged back to the original hospital for one night and I then to my home. This hospital stay was not the West Country holiday I had in mind. My mental and physical body had slowed down to the point where I was asleep more than I was awake during the day. This continued for sometime. I also was left with central hemi body pain which is still present to this day. I had fears around this and fears of collapsing and my partner helped enable me to build confidence and strength going out and about. We borrowed a wheelchair as I could not go far. I had been told 6 weeks post op that the surgeon had difficulty clipping the whole aneurysm which left me feeling rather out of control not knowing what would happen next. A few months later, I had a further CT scan as my pain and headaches continued. This test showed no problems and 8 months post op, a further angiogram was clear. I was referred to the neuropsychologist due to these anxieties and she reassured me that I was ready to embark on a phased return to work. I returned to work 6months post op and I was still having problems concentrating and absorbing new information. My partner had serious health problems too and just at this time was diagnosed with ME and had to stop work. My phased return was a very stressful and anxious time for both of us but I managed to increase my hours up to four days a week over a period of a year. My partner was unable to return to her work. The pair of us, both in our early 30’s meant to be in our prime, living life to the full but instead, frail, pained and fatigued. I decided to try some counselling to help with my anxiety and to help me adjust to everything that had happened. I later saw a pain specialist for central pain but medication was unhelpful. I then saw a pain psychologist and physio who really helped in my recovery. This was over a period between 2004/05. In 2008, I saw a neuropsychologist for cognitive testing as I have been having difficulties with work based tasks, including writing reports. The assessment indicated some difficulties with information processing, semantic fluency, concept definition, abstract reasoning and consolidating new information. I was able to advise work on what I needed to help me carry out my duties. I needed to consider my case-load management, assertiveness skills and practical stuff like a quiet place to write my reports. Finding a quiet space in the hospital always proves to be a challenge and sometimes I have to work from my home. Its now 2010 and the pain and cognitive problems are very much apart of me now and I cope as well as I can with this. The anxiety has lessened and I have gained a few extra pounds. My partner and I have been on a roller coaster ride for last 8 years. We are holding on tight together and not letting go. Apologies for my lengthy narrative - I also have problems with editing. Most of the medical information I talked about I gathered from my medical notes kept with my GP. My partner and parents filled in the rest. I just want to say what a great website, thank you, and thanks to Hurtswood Park. Best wishes to you all here. MelB

I’ve been feeling unwell for over a week. But felt a bit better this morning so I drive to work and sit at my desk with a cup of tea. I try to do some work, but find I am unable to concentrate and start to feel very unwell. I’m sure it will pass. One hour later, I’m still unable to do any work and lose all the feeling on the right side of my body: leg and arm feel numb; face and eye feel very strange; vision blurred. I think I know what is happening: I’m having some sort of stroke. With all the FASTads on the telly, I have all the symptoms: Face, Arm, Speech,Time to call 999. Only it’s not yet time for two reasons: firstly, I don’t want any drama at work, and secondly, I know I’ll probably end up in hospital and I’d rather it be one closer to home. 20 minutes later, the feeling has started to return to my arm and leg, so I make a cup of coffee and sit a while longer. I report sick and foolishly, I drive home. I can’t remember much about that 22 mile drive, but I made it. LESSON: Take the symptoms seriously! In hindsight, I should have gone straight to hospital by ambulance. I phone the doctor, and as expected, she says that I am probably having a TIA (transient ischaemic attack) or mini stroke and to go immediately to the nearest emergency department. My wife comes home from work and takes me to the North Hampshire Hospital, Basingstoke, which is less than a mile from my home. Over an hour’s wait before even being assessed by a triage nurse. Grrrr ... then straight to the treatment area for endless questions, needles, wires, tubes. Answers? Well, sort of. The doc thinks it’s a TIA too, but I need to go to the acute stroke unit to be checked out further and also a CT scan … tomorrow! Most of the feeling has come back to my leg arm and face now, but I still have pins and needles in my right foot and hand as I’m trundled up to the Acute Stroke Unit. There is some confusion when I get there, as it appears I’ve jumped the queue and pinched someone else’s bed. The stroke unit is not a nice place to be – very sad to see the others there in a much worse state than me. Although I move myself from trolley to bed, I’m told by a very stern nurse to stay in bed and not to try and get up until I have been properly assessed. I do as I’m told! A doctor comes to take my history, so I answer all the same questions again. Dinner (yuck, inedible) and a cup of tea (lukewarm and weak) and trouble from the bloke in the bed opposite. I’m told he usually keeps everyone awake, but he’s quiet tonight, probably due to something they put in his tea. Tuesday 28 April 2009 Hospital life starts early. Obs at 0645, then breakfast (better than last night’s dinner). I risk the wrath of the nurses and get out of bed to get washed and dressed. “Oh, you’re up and walking! That’s good” Doctor (different one) sees me and does a neuro assessment – score zero, which is good! Big cheese consultant comes to say hello, then physio assessment. Slight residual weakness on right side, but otherwise fine. CT scan, then lunch (just about edible). I wait all afternoon until the doctor comes and says everything is fine with the scan and I can go home. I’m also told I must not drive for one month, although I do not need to tell the DVLA. Another wait for the discharge papers and meds – aspirin. More pills to add to my growing daily intake! I’m home and resting now. This was quite a minor event, but a scare nonetheless, and lessons learned. I knew what was happening from the start, but didn’t follow the much publicised advice: Face, Arm, Speech, Time to call 999

Subarachnoid Haemorrhage - The Event What is subarachnoid haemorrhage? Subarachnoid haemorrhage is a sudden leakage of blood into the space between the membranes covering the brain. It is a serious, life threatening condition which requires urgent medical attention. Causes Most subarachnoid haemorrhages are caused by a weakness in an artery called an aneurysm - a swelling at a junction of blood vessels. Although aneurysms are quite common, only a small proportion of these rupture and cause subarachnoid haemorrhage. It is not fully understood why aneurysms develop, but smoking, alcohol and drug abuse and hypertension (high blood pressure) are thought to be risk factors. Another cause of subarachnoid haemorrhage is a bleed from a tangled mass of blood vessels called an arteriovenous malformation. This type of subarachnoid haemorrhage is usually less severe. Symptoms The classic symptom of subarachnoid haemorrhage is a headache of sudden onset, usually severe and often described as "the worst of my life". One or more of the following symptoms may be present: • Nausea and vomiting • Decreased level of consciousness or coma • Seizures • Confusion • Photophobia (dislike of light) • Stiff neck Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: I sat on the settee and felt so awful, wondering how much more pain I could take. I felt as though my head was going to blow and suddenly felt and heard a “whooshing of air” through my head and I shouted out in sheer panic. I lost all feeling down the left hand side of my body and I couldn’t feel my leg or walk. I knew that I was going to be sick and I couldn’t move. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: It was the middle of the night and I got up to visit the bathroom and a headache came on from nothing to the worst I've ever had in the space of about 30 seconds. I remember laying on the floor groaning with pain and not being able to move my arms and legs. Sami (36) from Nottinghamshire, SAH August 2006 says: I had a headache all the day before and eventually felt a popping sensation in the back of my head and passed out. When I came round, the right hand side of my body was paralysed. When I tried to stand I fell over and then when I did manage to get up this almighty pain in the back of the head occurred. It felt like someone hitting me around the back of the head with a baseball bat. Diagnosis In most cases, a CT scan is performed which can detect blood in the subarachnoid space. A lumbar puncture is sometimes performed to detect the presence of blood in the cerebro-spinal fluid (CSF).

Arteriovenous Malformation A tangled web of blood vessels in the brain. Cerebral Aneurysm A bulging of an artery feeding the brain caused by a weakness usually at an arterial junction. Cerebral Angiogram A procedure using X-rays and computer technology to map the arteries of the brain. Clipping A procedure performed using craniotomy whereby a titanium clip is placed across the neck of an aneurysm to exclude it from the circulation Craniotomy A procedure to access the brain by removing a flap of bone from the skull CT Scan Computerised Tomography - A method of imageing performed in a special machine using X-rays. Endovascular Coiling An angiographic procedure whereby platinum coils are inserted into an aneurysm to exclude it from the circulation. Hydrocephalus Swelling of the brain, often as a result of subarachnoid haemorrhage. MRA Magnetic resonance angiography - A special type of MRI scan used for visuallising the blood vessels. MRI - A method of imageing performed in a special machine using magnetic resonance. SAH The generally accepted abbreviation for subarachnoid haemorrhage. Shunt A device for draining excess cerebrospinal fluid around the brain to other parts of the body. Subarachnoid Haemorrhage A type of stroke caused by bleeding into the space between the membranes covering the brain. Vasospasm Constriction of the arteries supplying the brain which can cause a stroke if not properly managed.

What happens in hospital? Once subarachnoid haemorrhage has been diagnosed, you will usually be transferred to the nearest neurological unit, where investigations are carried out to determine the cause of the bleed. These investigations may be delayed until your clinical condition has stabilised. The priority however, is to prevent further bleeding by careful management in the intensive care unit and treatment of the site of the bleed. Cerebral Angiogram The primary means of investigation is a cerebral angiogram, a minimally invasive procedure which maps out the blood circulation in the brain by means of X-rays combined with computer technology. Once the cause of the bleed has been determined, the treatment to prevent further bleeding can be decided upon. Coiling In the case of aneurysms, the preferred method of treatment is to fill the aneurysm with fine platinum coils which blocks it off from the circulation. This is called endovascular coiling and is an angiographic procedure which can be carried out immediately following the initial angiogram. Clipping Not all aneurysms are suitable for coiling and these may need to be clipped from the outside by a neurosurgeon. This involves placing a small clip over the neck of the aneurysm to seal it off from the circulation. Arteriovenous Malformations (AVM) are usually removed by surgery. In some cases, no cause can be found for the bleed and the outcome for these patients is usually good. Joan from London, SAH November 2006 says: They took me down to surgery and I was down there for 4 to 5 hours after which they brought me back to the ward where I was again wired up to everything. I was very dozy and incoherent and they started the routine they were to repeat every 15 minutes - who I was, did I know where I was, did I know what day it was? Sometimes I knew who I was but that was about it. My speech was slurred and I struggled to get more than the odd phrase out. I kept asking what had happened to me, but I had no idea I was in hospital. Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: The Nurses were great, but it all felt so surreal and I felt so weak and tired. I was given an angiogram and a MRI and was told that an aneurysm had ruptured on my right posterior communicating artery and it would need to be coiled. I'd also suffered third nerve damage to my right eye and that's why my eye remained shut. The Consultant mentioned that I probably wouldn't be allowed to drive for 6 months to a year. The following day, I had my operation and I can remember asking the surgeon to please make sure that I was asleep before they started. The op went fine and the next day I was put onto a normal neuro ward I just drifted in and out of sleep, in-between bouts of severe head and back pain. I could barely hold a conversation when people came into visit and the fatigue was overwhelming. I was given a black pirates eye patch to put over my bad eye, as it had started to open and I had bad double vision, even so, I was still feeling so very grateful that I had survived. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: I had no idea what had happened until I woke up 2 days later in the neurosciences intensive care unit. I was then told that I'd had a brain haemorrhage and it had been fixed by inserting platinum coils into the aneurysm. All the hospital staff were great, but the endless rounds of questions - "Do you know where you are?", "Who's the prime minister?" etc got me down a bit. I don't remember much of my time there and the whole hospital experience was a bit vague Following treatment you will probably spend some time in intensive care before being transferred to the high dependency unit and finally to a neurological ward. For the first 3 weeks following subarachnoid haemorrhage you will be given a drug called nimodipine to reduce the chance of the arteries in the brain constricting, a condition called vasospasm. The risk of vasospasm during the early days is closely monitored.

Going Home - The Early Weeks Headaches Headaches are very common following a subarachnoid haemorrhage. They are not usually so severe as the headache experienced during the event itself, but they can persist for some months as the blood around the brain is re-absorbed. Taking pain killers as recommended by your doctor can help. The headaches will ease in time and may disappear altogether, but you may be more prone to headaches than you were previously. You may feel strange sensations in your head and this is common, especially during the early weeks of your recovery. If you are at all concerned about headaches or sensations you should consult your doctor. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: The constant severe headaches got me down at first and I ended up back in hospital after a particularly bad episode. The headaches started to ease in severity after a few weeks and I remember the first day that I went without pain killers as a milestone in my recovery. It took about 6 months before I was virtually free of headaches and one year on, I don't really get them any more. Sarah from Wiltshire, SAH October 2004 says: I had bad headaches prior to SAH and in some senses I have fewer now - because if I feel a headache coming on I am more likely to stop and rest up. I know that battling on will only make it worse in the long run, and after 3 years I am not so scared the whole time I have a headache, and I know I'm likely to get a headache if I over do it. During the early weeks at home, you will feel very tired. Even simple things like having a bath can leave you completely drained. Having a rest or sleep period each day can help, but you should try not to do too much too soon. Gradually build up your activity as you feel able and the fatigue will ease with time, but you may find that you never completely regain your previous level of activity. Vic from Frimley, SAH January 2006 says: It was much worse in the beginning but still get tired very easily and can sleep for England. I think this also has a lot to do with my medication for blood pressure as they keep me quite low. I also get tired limbs very quickly if I exert myself, like trying to run upstairs. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: When I first came home, I was constantly tired and slept a lot. Even simple things like getting dressed or talking to friends and family would leave me completely drained of energy. I needed a sleep during the day for several months and returning to work was particularly difficult as the fatigue increased and I needed longer rest periods. Emotional Most people feel more emotional, especially in the early weeks. Mood swings and crying for no apparent reason are common. As with most other effects of subarachnoid haemorrhage, this generally improves with time. Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: I had days where I would feel so low with trying to cope with the aftermath of the SAH that I would just escape to my bedroom and cry. I would become inconsolable and cry tears of frustration. I felt so frightened, so alone and felt as though nobody could help me. I always tried not to let my children see this, as I didn’t want them to worry. I cried buckets of tears over the thought that my children could have lost their Mum and I feared for the future. I felt like a different person and wondered whether life could ever be the same again. Anxiety & Depression Once you return home from hospital it is natural to feel anxious and worry that it may happen again, although this is very unlikely. You may feel low or isolated at times, especially in the early weeks, but it generally improves with time. If you feel very low, it may be worth talking to your GP. Attending a support group and talking to others in similar situations can help, but if you feel uncomfortable talking to strangers face to face, an online support group like the one here at behindthegray.net can also help. Sami (36) from Nottinghamshire, SAH August 2006 says: I was very anxious in the first few weeks about being left alone and that I was going to suffer another SAH. I became so depressed that I was referred to a councillor. He helped me to realise that this wasn't my fault and that I had nothing to feel guilty about. Memory & Concentration Short term memory is often affected following a subarachnoid haemorrhage and memories of the event and the time spent in hospital is often very vague. You may also have difficulty concentrating and find that you can only concentrate on tasks for a short period. You may need to write things down and keep a diary as an aid to your memory. When you visit your doctor or hospital, write down a list of questions before you go and write down the answers so you can remember them later. As with other aspects of subarachnoid haemorrhage, your memory will improve with time, but your short term memory may never be what it once was. Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: My short term memory had become very bad. I would walk from one room to another, forgetting the reason why I went in the first place. I had to start to make lists to help me remember. My brain seemed to be on "meltdown" and was reluctant to absorb any information. I would also forget a conversation very easily. Sarah from Wiltshire, SAH October 2004 says: I have to write work things down now and I might have to go back to some one and clarify details of our conversation. Unless I've overdone it, or have a headache, or am fatigued, I am OK to concentrate and remember most of the time although things do fall off the edge when I am busy. Learning new things is harder, but I am less embarrassed at the thought of appearing stupid so I cope with that! Communication and Speech Speech is often affected by subarachnoid haemorrhage. Hesitation and difficulty finding the right words are common and usually improve with time. It may be necessary to see a speech therapist if problems persist. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: My speech was very hesitant at first. I would often stop mid-sentence, unable to think of the next word. It was worse when I was stressed or tired and speaking on the telephone was particularly difficult. It was very frustrating as I knew I was doing it, but it gradually got better and my speech was back to normal within a few weeks. Noise and Visual Stimuli You will probably be more sensitive to noise and visual things such as bright or flashing lights during the early weeks of your recovery. Being in crowded, noisy or busy places such as supermarkets can be particularly difficult at first. Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: My first visit to a Supermarket was traumatic and I didn't cope at all well. My eyesight was awful, my legs weak and my brain went into overload with the bright lights, piped music, door alarms going off, children crying and people walking at me. It was all too much and I had to leave and sit in the car whilst my Husband finished the shopping. I cried my eyes out in desperation and wondered what the hell was happening to me.

Recovery - Returning to Normal Recovery from a subarachnoid haemorrhage is very individual and depends on many factors, not least of which is the severity of the initial bleed and your condition on being admitted to hospital. Returning to your previous lifestyle should be done gradually. Some people make a full recovery, but others may never entirely regain their previous level of activity. Returning to Work You will need at least 3 months off work, often much longer. You should negotiate a phased return with your employers, starting off by not working every day or working shorter hours. Sami (36) from Nottinghamshire, SAH August 2006 says: I'm lucky that my husband and I own a company and I could ease myself back in gradually. I actually returned to work three weeks after because I couldn't stand the thought of being on my own. I have a bed in the office to this day that I lay down on if I feel tired. Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: I tried to return to work 3 months post SAH. I must have been crazy, as I wasn't well enough physically or mentally. After 2 hours of hell, I left. What was I thinking of? Trying to work in front of a computer screen with double vision and telling everybody that "I was fine". I wasn't fine. I felt like a complete and utter failure that day. I went home in tears and it dawned on me that my recovery was going to be a lot longer than I thought. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: I returned to work after three and a half months and for the first couple of weeks I worked shorter hours. I found it very difficult to concentrate for long periods at first and I got very tired to the point where I needed to sleep for a couple of hours when I got home. The headaches increased in both frequency and intensity. I know now that I went back to work too soon, but it felt good to get back to some sort of normality. Driving If you live in the UK, you are required by law to inform the DVLA of your subarachnoid haemorrhage. You should not drive until the DVLA informs you that you may continue to do so. It could be anything from 3 months to 1 year before you can drive again. Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: When I eventually made my first car journey, I had to drive with the air conditioning blasting on my face; I needed to feel the cold, needed to feel awake. It felt so very weird and also very scary. Even my feet didn't feel as though they were part of my body. I seemed to over emphasise every movement that before the SAH, would have been so normal. I just didn't feel in control, it wasn't me in this body that I had returned home with. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: I was given the all clear by the DVLA to continue driving after about 3 months, although I felt ready before this. I returned to work a few days later and found the 40 minute drive each way very challenging at first. Within 6 months, even driving long distances was no longer a problem. Exercise You should gradually build up your activity level as you feel able. Your brain and body will tell you when they have had enough. Start by maybe going for a short walk each day and you should find it gets easier as time progresses. During the early weeks, frequent rests will be necessary when exercising. Vic from Frimley, SAH January 2006 says: Due to having more aneurysms and possibly Fibromuscular Dysphasia I am not supposed to exercise too much, also I am on blood pressure medication which makes me pretty lazy! If I walk fast or try to run up stairs I get exhausted very quickly so I really don't exercise that much but I do go on long walks and go swimming but I just do everything slowly! Sarah from Wiltshire, SAH October 2004 says: Exercise is a bit scary to start with, being able to feel your heart race and your blood pounding! But I do think that a healthy body aids recovery. I rested a phenomenal amount in the first months, but I also did little walks and bits of stretching and things, and I think it helped Sex and Pregnancy Women are advised to avoid pregnancy for at least 6 months. Sex, however, presents no risks. Sami (36) from Nottinghamshire, SAH August 2006 As my SAH happened just after sex it was a traumatic thought for both me and my husband to contemplate it again. It wasn't until I saw my Neurosurgeon in November (three months after) and he gave me the all clear that we tried and even then it was very nerve racking experience. Our sex life isn't what it was before but we are working on it and we are as intimate and as close as we've always been. Sarah from Wiltshire, SAH October 2004 says: Sex was scary post SAH, but actually fine. I'm probably slightly less inhibited now - whether that's a survivors response, or whether the inhibiting part of my brain was affected - I don't know. Flying You can usually resume flying after about three months, but as individual recoveries vary so much it’s always best to check with your doctor or neurosurgeon before doing this. You may find that the pressure build up in your ears and headaches affect you more at first. Vic from Frimley, SAH January 2006 says: I have been given different opinions on this matter. The first was "that one should not fly" for at least 6 months’, the second "that it was fine to fly" and the third "that it was my choice and be it on my own head"! I have flown 6 times in the past year. The first time 2 weeks after my SAH, with no adverse effects so I think its fine and how soon after the SAH depends on how the individual feels. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: I did a short haul flight after 6 months and although I was a bit apprehensive, I suffered no ill effects at all. I've flown a couple of times since then and everything has been fine. Smoking and Alcohol Smoking increases your risk of heart attack or stroke and is linked to the development of aneurysms, so if you smoke, try to give up. Your doctor can help you to do this.If you like the odd tipple, you will find that alcohol affects you more in the first few months than it used to. During the early weeks, you may find that you cannot tolerate alcohol at all. Sami (36) from Nottinghamshire, SAH August 2006 says: I've smoked since I was 15 and stopped after the SAH. However, I do still have the occasional cigarette when drinking or when I've had a particularly bad day. I'm desperate to kick the weed altogether and my GP is referring me to the NHS New Leaf programme. Vic from Frimley, SAH January 2006 says: I was a heavy smoker up to the day of my SAH. Fortunately, being in hospital for two weeks made the initial withdrawals easy! I think that quitting is very much a state of mind. I found it much easier than I thought it would be although 17 months on I still get the odd craving. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: I enjoy the odd pint of beer from time to time and I tried one after about 2 months. I felt light headed and had hot flushes within a few minutes and came out in a rash. It was about 6 months before I could fully enjoy a pint of beer without those effects.

Long Term Effects Recovery from a subarachnoid haemorrhage can take many months or years and can be slow and uneven. Most effects improve with time but therapy or rehabilitation can help with the more persistent problems. You should discuss this with your GP. Long term effects include: • Physical disability such as limb weakness • Impaired or double vision • Personality changes such as increased irritability or disinhibition • Memory problems Karen (45) from Dorset, SAH July 2005 says: I have found that my pre-menstrual tension is a lot worse since the SAH. My emotions seem to be more exaggerated or enhanced than they once used to be. My temper is quicker, but still fair; it's just that I really don't want to waste my life with stuff that doesn't matter anymore. I get irritated when people make a mountain out of a mole hill or kick off about silly things. Keith (46) from Hampshire, SAH August 2006 says: I am a bit more irritable than I was before and find myself taking it out on my family from time to time. My short term memory is not what it once was and I need constant reminders of certain things. I get tired very easily if I overdo things, so I must learn to listen to my brain telling me it's had enough!

If you would like to suggest a link to be added to the collection, please click the "Contact Us" menu option above. ACAS Help and information regarding employment issues. Brain & Spine Foundation Organisation providing information and a helpline. Different Strokes A registered charity providing a unique, free service to younger stroke survivors throughout the United Kingdom. DVLA - https://www.gov.uk/government/news/dvla-online-services-quick-and-easy-for-you View drivers information about medical conditions, driving licences, learning to drive, entitlement to drive, endorsements/disqualifications, driving abroad and what to do when you have changed your address and/or name. Epilepsy.org.uk Epilepsy Action aims to improve the quality of life and promote the interests of people living with epilepsy. Headway Information and support for individuals with brain injury. Same You Emilia Clarke survived two life threatening brain haemorrhages while working on Game of Thrones. Emilia decided to share her story and start SameYou to increase awareness that 1 in 3 people will be affected by brain injury and of the gap between the need and the lack of recovery care. Samaritans Samaritans is available 24 hours a day to provide confidential emotional support for people who are experiencing feelings of distress or despair, including those which may lead to suicide. The Stroke Association NHS Choices Website to help you make choices about your health, from lifestyle decisions about things like smoking, drinking and exercise, through to the practical aspects of finding and using NHS services when you need them.