In November 2018 I was teaching mathematics at John Forrest Secondary College and looking forward to the school holidays. My husband had decided to retire at Christmas, and I was thinking about the next holiday we might go on. We had just decided to sell our house and move to an apartment in Burswood. I was going to keep teaching as I loved it, and Rodney was going to play a lot of tennis. Then our plans were turned upside down – I had a stroke.
I was in Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital (SCGH) for four weeks. That was when my husband was told that they really didn’t give me much chance of living a normal life as the bleed in my brain was extensive. The doctors took part of my skull out to relieve the bleeding.
After four weeks I was transferred to the rehabilitation unit at Fiona Stanley Hospital (FSH). This was when I woke up. I don’t remember anything of my time in SCGH, and I really didn’t know what had happened to me, but I knew that I couldn’t walk, I was wearing nappies and I needed to sleep a lot.
Rodney visited me every day, watching me trying to stand up in physiotherapy and being so tired that I went to sleep. As I started to, as I call it, get my brain back in order, I had a goal to go home for a day on the weekend. On the weekend there was no rehabilitation, so it was pretty boring.
I needed to work hard if I wanted to get home. Three sessions a day – physiotherapy, occupational therapy and speech pathology – plus lots of medical appointments. I needed to get better, and if I didn’t do it then no one else could do it for me and I couldn’t go home.
As I improved, I was given my electric wheelchair. Freedom!!! When I passed my learner’s permit I could wander out and I found my favourite Subway cookies – macadamia. I was always getting in trouble because I would always forget my helmet. I hated that helmet. As time went on, I was working hard on my rehabilitation Monday to Friday because I knew I could go home on the weekend, first just a day then overnight, and then two nights. Whoa, whoa!
In May 2019 I was finally allowed to go home for good. I reflect about my time in hospital and really it was the people, the nurses and my team that I remember the most. Megan my physiotherapist and Carlo my occupational therapist were the best. I remember on the day I was leaving, Megan said that I couldn’t go until I finished 100 sit and stands. She was a hard taskmaster but a fantastic person and I thank her very much. Carlo was also a trooper – he came to our apartment and worked out what I needed to help me when I got home, and he started my love of cooking again.
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