One of the things you need as a writer is time. Time to think and time to process that into something intelligible. But the real thing that ties it all together is a reason to do it in the first place. In 2008 I was given the time and I was most definitely given a reason. I had a stroke. A massive and debilitating attack on my brain that has left me debilitated and for a short time completely paralysed down my left side. A few months ago I tried to write a poem about my first reactions when I first realised something was wrong.

Click

Click.

Random Click.

A Switch.

click 

in my head.

No pain.

Numb.

Spreading.

 walk.

Try to talk.

Tingle.

Tips of the fingers.

panic

Rising panic.

Don’t panic.

Easy to say.

Don’t let them see you

Don’t cry.

What  wrong?

What’s happening?

Leg not working

Arm not working.

Go to the door

Call someone.

Idiot, don’t panic.

Just tingling,

weird feelings of drifting.

Followed by panic.

 Don’t let them see you panic.

The boss, can’t make out a thing she’s saying.

Eventually she has to ask.

‘Are you OK?’

I want to lie. Say ‘yeah Ok.’

I Want the panic to subside.

Let the numbness slip away.

Losing focus, losing feeling, losing hope.

Started with a switch.

click.

Random click, just a click.

Fuck.

Scared now. Have to answer boss.

‘Not feeling great.’

‘What’s the matter?’

Tears come now.

Appraisal over.

Ambulance requested.

Oh God, the fear starts. Can’t hold back the panic.

Losing control, losing hope.

Tears gush

cup of tea.

Blue lights come

The medics barks into a radio.

‘No movement  left arm.’

‘No movement  left leg.’

‘No movement left hand.’

Loaded in ambulance

Blood Pressure 190 over 120.

Sirens.

Casualty

Stroke.

Click.

Random click.

When all the fuss had stopped and a kindly doctor actually told me what was going on, I realised that my life would change forever. At that point I was in a ward with a great many people and all of them quiet. All of my thoughts were dark and I was desperately trying to keep it together. There was a sense of real fear then, bone chilling fear.

I did not know that under four years later I would be on the verge of publishing a novel.  If you had said that to me on the night of the 8th of June 2008, my first in hospital, I would have just cried and said you were mad.