“I wouldn’t be where I am today without Northern Ireland Chest Heart & Stroke."

I’ll never forget that date — the 5th of June 2021. It was an ordinary Saturday morning. I had a terrible headache that just wouldn’t go away. It got so bad I called an ambulance, but I collapsed before it arrived. I was rushed first to Craigavon hospital, but my case was so severe that I had to be blue-lighted onwards to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast.

Little did I know I had suffered a massive brainstem stroke caused by something called an AVM which I was born with, but never knew I had. It could have burst at any time — and it just so happened that day was when it finally happened. I went through hours of brain surgery and have a huge scar on my head to show for it.

I spent weeks in a coma. At one stage, doctors even talked about turning off my life support. It was terrifying for my partner Gordy and my family. I always say it was far harder on him than on me at that stage, because at least I had no idea what was happening – he had to experience it all.

When I finally woke up, I was on so much medication that at first, I didn’t really know what was real and what was a dream – it was all very fuzzy. But as time went on, I realised I had woken up to a nightmare.

The impact of the stroke was massive. I had to relearn almost everything. I couldn’t walk and struggled to speak. Even then, I didn’t realise that the effects were permanent. I thought I would recover quickly and things would go back to normal. I never in a million years thought it would be another nine months before I even stepped foot in my home again.

I spent six months in the Regional Acquired Brain Injury Unit at Musgrave Park Hospital. The team were brilliant, but it was intense. I had physio every day and worked to relearn how to do simple, everyday things like using a washing machine – things I would need to do in the real world. Before my stroke, I was working for a mortgage broker, dealing with paperwork, but now I had to relearn how to even use a keyboard as part of my rehab.

I’ve always been an independent and hardworking person, and never would have pictured myself in a position where I would struggle to do things for myself. It was tough, physically and mentally. Christmas that year was filled with uncertainty and fear – what would the year ahead bring?

After I completed my rehab, I was placed in a care home as there was no care package in place for me. Imagine how that felt, at just 30 years old, to be in an old people’s home?

Finally, on the 30th June 2022, over a year since my stroke and after going through so much, I was able to go home. But life was far from how it had been when I left. I was in a wheelchair, still dealing with speech issues, fatigue, and weakness in my left hand and right leg. The worst part was people treating me differently. One of the biggest challenges was stopping myself from being rude to people – so many times I have wanted to say, ‘I haven’t suddenly become stupid or deaf, you know!’

Then, Northern Ireland Chest Heart & Stroke came into my life. Lynne and Julie from NICHS visited me and Gordy at home as part of their Family Support Service. It was invaluable to have someone to support you who understands stroke and has all the advice and knowledge to answer your questions. They listened, they understood, and most importantly — they gave me hope.

I joined NICHS’s Post Rehab Exercise Programme (PREP), which is a rehab programme for stroke survivors. At the start, I came in my wheelchair and couldn’t do many of the exercises. However, I made progress every week, and by the end, I had managed to take on all the exercises.

I also took part in NICHS’s Taking Control Programme and I now attend their regular Stroke Wellness Sessions in Craigavon. Their programmes gave me the opportunity to meet others who totally understand what I’m going through and see me for me, not my stroke. I’ve made so many friends, it’s great craic, and it means I have ongoing support from the NICHS team. I think you can talk about your stroke all you want, but it takes talking to someone in the same boat for you to feel understood. NICHS gave me that.

Slowly, things changed, and moments of hope began to reappear. At first, I had to be lifted into the car. Now, I can get in myself. When I walked in with my rollator for the first time, the whole group cheered. That encouragement meant the world to me.