Attack

In the early hours of the 25 of January 2015 some wee beastie, as Scots friends would say, stole into the bedroom and after removing the top of my skull used a baseball bat to give my brain a bit of a thump. Then this wee little monster seamlessly rejoined the two parts of my skull and silently bidding me goodnight disappeared into the darkness from whence it came.

In other words: I had a STROKE.

As the medics would say I had an acute medial inferior pontine perforator infarct on the left with signs of chronic microangiopathic changes and lacunar infarcts.

In plain English, I had a clot in a blood vessel which starved an area of my brain of oxygenated blood.

It all happened, as I said at the beginning, over the night of 24/25 January.

We had been to a Burns’ Night Supper in the Village Hall on the 24th.

Kate and I had been following a “dry January” (probably will not be doing that again) as we had done many times before. We did, however, generally give ourselves a dispensation for the Burns’ Night Supper, you have to really. The supper was the usual affair with Haggis, Neeps and Tatties, music and dancing. For the last few years it has been organised by a couple in the village, who do a great job.

The evening commenced with a few words of welcome from the chairman followed by the Selkirk Grace.

The Haggis, carried by the chairman’s partner, was Pipped in to an accompaniment of slow hand clapping.

Once the Haggis was in place at the top table a rendition of  Burns’ “Address to a Haggis” followed, though thankfully not all eight verses, at the end of which the Haggis was cut open and taken away to be served.

The meal consisted of 

Cock-a-leekie Soup

Haggis with Neeps and Tatties

Sherry Trifle

Coffee

And Whiskey

The speeches were interesting.

The chairman gave the speech to the Immortal Memory of Rabbie Burns including extracts of his poetry which, if a little long, was very entertaining. 

The Toast To The Lasses, given by a local farmer was, to put it mildly, intriguing. It was dripping with sexist comments and was welcomed with a ripple of stunned applause and I probably wouldn’t have wanted to be in his house of all girls over the next day or so.

The Response, given by Kate although written by myself, went down well by comparison and received the plaudits it deserved.

The evening was rounded off by traditional Scots Dancing.

Being a village and Burns’ Night Supper being almost the sole preserve of the older section of its population the evening drew to a close at around midnight.

I had not had very much to drink, a couple of glasses of wine and a tot or two of Whiskey at the supper and a further tot or two when we got home but probably a lot after nearly a month off. We went to bed at around half past midnight. I simply could not settle and tossed and turned. Worrying that I would wake Kate I decided to move to the step-daughter’s room, she being away in the Alps doing a Ski Season. Things were no better in the new room but I think I did eventually drift off to sleep. When I woke on the Sunday morning I certainly felt under the weather but put it down to the minor excesses of the evening before. The Sunday was quiet, with a little writing but not much else.

During Sunday I did become aware of a number of what I now know as deficiencies. My right hand felt a little numb and vaguely leaden. My right arm felt heavier than usual, almost as if it was carrying a couple of extra pounds. My right foot was a slightly stiff and at times the ankle dragged a little, with the leg feeling as if there was a weight strapped to it. When I was tired my speech had a touch of slur to it. And then there were the headaches.

On the Monday my Kate headed off for what was a long week away, to return on the Thursday, while I continued to deliver a large number of parcels. For the past two and a half years I had been working six days a week delivering up to ninety packages and travelling between thirty and one hundred miles a day and that was to continue during that week with me finishing well after seven most days and sometimes as late as nine.

The deficiencies got no better as the week went on. I also found that I was getting more and more tired, not helped by the fact that I was on the receiving end of an almost total lack of sleep.

On Thursday evening I was making my way home at around seven o’clock and as I came through the village next to ours I was caught by a speed camera van. I had slowed down and really was convinced that I was travelling at 30 miles an hour but apparently not.

Arriving home a little flustered and somewhat annoyed I was met by Kate who had been home for about half an hour. After listening to me rant on about speed cameras for a few minuets she asked if I was OK. When my answer was slightly slurred she said that she thought so. After telling me that I was obviously no better she suggesting that I go and have a shower. 

Kate was waiting for me when I finished my shower with the news that she thought that I had had a STROKE.