Saturday night I went to bed, coughing and finding it hard to breathe. My chest infection was still plaguing me. Lucy said I also had a bit of a fever. So instead of sleeping laying down, as is the norm (for fear of coughing up my insides), for the first time in years I slept sitting up - if you can call it sleeping. In and out of consciousness, with a cool flannel over my forehead and a water bottle by my side.
During the night, Lucy had graciously woken from her sleep to fill up said water bottle, as I had drunk the lot in what seemed like no time to me. Normally it can take a couple days for me to drink the whole bottle. Saturday night/early hours of Sunday morning I had gone through a whole bottle in a matter of hours.
I couldn't even stand properly as my legs felt rather weak. Luckily Lucy, and her dad whom we also live with, were great in making sure I had everything I needed. However, as the hours wore on, from Saturday night through the early hours into Sunday morning, I noticed something strange, something different.
My right arm had also become very weak, weak enough that I could barely lift it with any gumption, and my right hand had swollen. A ring I wear on that hand felt like it was beginning to cut off the blood flow in the finger it was on, so I had to force it off. I began to notice a pain in my right shoulder and right side of my neck too.
I started wondering what was happening. Was it just an allergic reaction to something that would settle down after a few hours? I left it for the time being but as the morning wore on, it hadn't 'settled down'. By this point, my breathing was getting worse too, and that scared Lucy.
111 was called around 10am yesterday, and out came a Paramedic. My SATS were 100%, so it wasn't lack of oxygen as I had feared, and my blood pressure was top notch. The Paramedic told me to slow my breathing down and I'd stop hyperventilating and then I would be fine. If I need to go to hospital, he'll call a taxi. No ambulances available.
Yeah, great. Thanks for that. There's a reason I may be hyperventilating. "But what about my arm?" I asked him. Had to explain to him how it felt, what was happening etc. He done a couple of tests, and called in a couple of colleagues, who funnily enough, arrived in an ambulance!
I was whisked off to London's University College Hospital, where they have a specialist stroke unit, instead of my local hospital. Stroke. Unit? I'm only 40. I'm too young to have had a stroke. Aren't I? Lucy came with me because by now I was pooping my pants.
Anyway, I was admitted sometime between 11.30am and 12pm. CT scans, x-rays, reflex hammer by two different doctors. Poked, prodded and all other manner of tests. And questions. Lots of questions. But. Nothing. They found nothing. And by the time I was discharged at 7pm last night, the swelling in my hand had gone down, and the function in my arm had almost fully returned.
The only thing they were able to say is that it may have been some kind of blood clot that dissipated during the day. One of the Doctors I saw at UCH is going to write to my GP, and ask for me to be referred to a Neurologist.
A Neurologist? OK, so now I'm officially scared for what the future holds, health wise. But I can only wait and see I guess.