I thought I was strong.

I remember, on my 40th birthday, suffering headaches so immense and so painful that I genuinely felt as if I was going to die, even the prospect of going for a number 2 was a 50/50 chance of passing out.

In truth, I had been suffering with a persistent headache for over 2 months, initially they were nothing more than a bothersome inconvenience to my life, but with every week that passed, the throbbing and incessant pain became worse, even bending down and trying to pick things up, resulted in a rush of blood and pressure to my already straining pain.

We tried my GP, but was happily told to go back to work, ‘speak to occupational health’ that was my response, despite informing the Dr of my current struggles he seemed less that concerned, as that week progressed, I was unable to drive or doing anything, in the end whilst my GP continued to down play what would latter be termed ‘thunderclap’ headaches, and with the insistence of my wife I attended my local AnE.

A few brief questions and off I was whisked to have my brain scanned, even as I was about to be discharged, the Dr believed that I was fine, then suddenly the Dr stopped speaking and sat staring at the results of my CT scan, another Dr was summoned and they both looked at me quizzically, ‘we think you’ve had a Hemorrhage’

To say I was surprised was an understatement, but I did as I was told, took some pills and off I was shipped to a ward for monitoring and covid testing. My first night was one of bemusement as I took my new medication and tried to get some sleep.

The following week was one of upheaval, chaos, trauma, confusion and fear to name but a few. It was made worse with the fact I was not able to see any friends or family. The Drs would come in and see me daily with 2min sessions to tell me various concerns, spots on kidney, spots on brain, cancer in kidney, we need to remove the kidney, you need brain surgery.

I wasn’t entirely sure how to manage with the new feelings and worries, I would sit in silence on my bed, attempting to sleep and relax in the midst of a frightening new world. Some days on the ward I would simply stare at myself in the toilet mirror, wondering what lay beneath the skin and bone, could I see it, could I make it vanish.

I was finally able to see my wife, a few hours of comfort and care helped give me hope again. we met with a most brilliant Dr of Neurology at the Queen Elizabeth who assured us with his a calm deminer.

I would now sit and await surgery on my brain.