Returning from the Blink of an Eye

By Grant Victoro

Returning from the Blink of an Eye is an inspirational true story

Seven January 2011 was a day that would change the author, Grant Victoro’s life forever. In the early hours of the morning, He suffered a deadly haemorrhagic stroke in the pons area of his brainstem. The gods must have been on his side that morning. In the blink of an eye, his life changed forever.

Surviving the first forty-eight hours of such a deadly stroke did how ever come with a very high price tag. It left him a hemiplegic, paralysed down the complete left side of his body. He was told, by the doctors and nurses that he needed to come to terms with the fact that he may never walk again. The probability that he would be wheelchair bound for the balance of his now unnatural life was huge. This was something he could not accept and found it very difficult to come to terms with.

With the odds stacked against him, he was determined to prove them all wrong. This is his story of how he won back his independence. His mammoth uphill battle to walk again and all the obstacles he was forced to endure along the way.

At the lowest point in his life, his family and friends abandoned him. Alone, with no support system, he was forced to face the daily challenges that the stroke threw at him on his own. His marriage of fourteen years came crumbling down, when his wife took the kids and moved out. Grant realised the hard way that you only get to truly know people when faced with one of life’s ultimate challenges. After all was said and done, the true colours of those around him suddenly flared up and erupted through the surface like an exploding volcano. Only to break up a once happy family and destroying the lives of everyone involved.

Not only had the stroke stripped him of his once happy life, it had taken him back to being an infant in a man’s body. You will read about the horrendous circumstances he had to endure. Some, you will find very hard to come to terms with!

Read about the willpower he had to recover. The perseverance it took to keep him going when he had lost all hope. Every time he turned a corner, he was faced with yet another obstacle. The book will take you through the trials and tribulations he faced on his epic journey. No matter what life threw at him, he was always able to lift himself up and dust himself off before moving forward again.

All of this was done in the name of learning to walk again. Something most people take for granted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grant Victoro
• Release date: Oct 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9780620648806

Grant Victoro

I am a first time author. Welcome to my debut book.My name is Grant Victoro and I am a stroke survivor. Following a near fatal stroke, my family and friends found it very difficult to come to terms with. While in hospital and rehab, I was inundated with visitors and family. After being discharged and returning home, everything changed. At the lowest point in his life, they all abandoned me. Without a support system, I was forced to face the daily challenges the stroke threw at me alone. My marriage of fourteen years crumbled, when my wife moved out with the kids. Sadly, I learnt the hard way that you only get to truly know people when faced with one of life’s ultimate challenges. After all was said and done, the true colours of those around me suddenly flared up and erupted through the surface like an exploding volcano. Only to break up a once happy family, destroying the lives of everyone involved. Before I knew it, I was on my own, lonely and isolated.Returning From the Blink of an Eye is a book that will hopefully inspire other stroke survivors and their families to realise that life is not over once you have suffered a stroke. When looking for audio or ebooks to read, about other stroke survivors, all I could ever find were stories about cases where the family and friends stuck around. This was very far from my situation.How was I to handle this?What happens when they all decide to up and leave?What happens when the medical fraternity tell you there is nothing they can do for you?That is exactly what happened to me. Paralysed down one side of my body and with nowhere to turn, I was facing a very daunting and uncertain future. Instead of throwing my arm up in the air and giving up, I decided to prove everyone wrong. More importantly, I was doing it for myself. Single-handedly – excuse the pun – I started a very demanding rehabilitation programme, both with and without the assistance of therapist's. With one hand and one finger, I kept a journal as to my daily progress; a journal that would later prove to be vital in the writing of this book. The journal helped me to maintain my sanity.My whole life, I have been a fighter. Nothing just fell into my lap, unless it was from a bird flying over. I had to work and fight hard for what I had. This would be no different. I was not going to just lie down now and call it quits. Little did I realise what a mammoth task I had embarked on and what lay ahead of me. But then; such tasks have never scared me away before. I am always up for a good challenge. The more I was reassured that I was wasting my time, the more determined I became. I was not ready to listen to any external negativity, from anyone. If you want me to achieve a goal, just tell me it’s not possible. Then take a step back and watch.To me, my life had suddenly been put on hold for a while; it was definetly not over. Although the recovery progress would be slow, as slow as a snail on a treadmill! I was determined to get better. I would record any micro improvements that I noticed. Very often, these improvements were so trivial to the outsider that they would not be able to see anything, but more importantly, I could at least feel them. These micro improvements were giant strides to me, strides in the right direction. Unable to contain my excitement, I would tell anyone close by. This did not always go down well with strangers and I am pretty sure that many thought I should be in a straightjacket in a very well padded cell where I could not hurt myself.Unbeknown to me, there were those in wheelchairs, at the therapy practice, who would watch me intently. Using me for motivation and their role model, they often wished they could be in my position. I was not there to impress anyone. I was just a young man in his mid-forties trying to survive and lead a so-called ‘normal’ life.What is a normal life, you might ask? For forty-six years, I was a fully abled person. I was just trying to return to what I was. I hadn't given it a second thought that there were people out there who were worse off than me. People who had been watching me and wishing that they could be like me. To them, being able to do what I fought so hard to achieve was normal. My physiotherapist even commented on the drive and will power I had to recover. She had never seen such determination before.After four years of intensive therapy, I was in a better position to get around. Endless hours in the gym had paid off. We all go to gym for different reasons, some go to lose weight, some for health reasons and others want to bulk up. But, to me, gym was therapy, a means to recover, a means to an end.Through all of this, I had to endure some horrific circumstances, people could not believe what I was going through and I was regularly told that I should write a book. After considering it for a long time, I decided to start writing. At first, I was worried if I would have enough for a book. Very soon, I realised that I had to cut back to keep it to a readable length, and so my debut book was born.My greatest wish in the world is for other stroke survivors and their families to learn from what I had to endure. Let them realise that, with enough perseverance, they can improve their quality of life. Surviving a traumatic stroke can change a person. The sudden paralysis is very traumatic, to say the least. With a loving and caring family by your side, you can get through the hard times. Coming to terms with the sudden changes is unbelievably daunting. I would never wish what I had to endure on my worst enemy.Writing my debut book was very therapeutic for me and at times brought back memories. Some brought a smile to my face; others were very painful to relive and brought tears to my eyes. The book was written from the heart and I have tried to bring that across in my writing.I hope that others can gain some inspiration from my book. Know that you or your loved ones life is not over. Its just begining.

Book preview

Grant Victoro

Returning

from the

Blink

of an

Eye

Copyright © 2015 Grant Victoro

First edition 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by Author using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Edited by Vanessa Finaughty for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: [e-mail]

Disclaimer

This book is a work of non-fiction and is intended to provide accurate information in regards to the subject matter covered. The content is based on factual information provided to and by the author, and any similarities to other individuals, real, fictional, dead or alive is purely coincidental. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

This book is not intended to be used, nor should it be used, to diagnose or treat any medical condition. For diagnosis or treatment of any medical problem, consult your own physician. The publisher and author are not responsible for any specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision and are not liable for any damages or negative consequences from any treatment, action, application or preparation, to any person reading or following the information in this book. Neither is this book intended as a substitute for the medical advice of physicians. The reader should regularly consult a physician in matters relating to his/her health and particularly with respect to any symptoms that may require diagnosis or medical attention.

This book is designed based on the author’s personal experience and is meant to provide information and motivation to its readers. It is sold with the understanding that the publisher and author are not engaged to render any type of psychological, legal, or any other kind of professional advice. The content is the sole expression and opinion of its author, and not necessarily that of the publisher. Neither the publisher nor the author shall be liable for any physical, psychological, emotional, financial, or commercial damages, including, but not limited to, special, incidental, consequential or other damages. Our views and rights are the same: You are responsible for your own choices, actions, and results.

Based on the authors personal experience the information in this book is not meant to replace, proper exercise training. All forms of exercise pose some inherent risks. The editors and publisher advise readers to take full responsibility for their safety and know their limits. Before practicing any exercises in this book be sure to contact your own physician first.

The author and publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage or disruption caused by information, errors or omissions, whether such information, errors or omissions result from negligence, accident or any other cause.

To my kids, for their love and support.

It is the love for my kids that kept me going for so long and so hard.

I look forward to the day that we will be reunited under the same roof.

Contents

Contents

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Preface

Welcome to my debut book.

My name is Grant Victoro. Returning From the Blink of an Eye is a book that will hopefully inspire other stroke survivors to realise that life is not over once you have suffered a stroke. When looking for audio or ebooks to read, about other stroke survivors, all I could ever find were stories about cases where the family, friends and spouse stuck around. This was very far from my situation.

How was I to handle this?

What happens when they all decide to up and leave?

What happens when the medical fraternity tell you there is nothing they can do for you?

That is exactly what happened to me. With nowhere to turn, I was facing a very daunting and uncertain future. Instead of throwing my arm up in the air and giving up, I decided to prove everyone wrong. More importantly, I was doing it for myself. Single-handedly – excuse the pun – I started a very demanding rehabilitation programme, both with and without the assistance of a therapist. With one hand and one finger, I kept a journal as to my progress; a journal that would later prove to be vital in the writing of this book.

My whole life, I have been a fighter. Nothing just fell into my lap, unless it was from a bird flying over. I had to work and fight hard for what I had. This would be no different. I was not going to just lie down now and call it quits. Little did I realise what a mammoth task lay ahead of me. But then, such tasks have never scared me away before. I am always up for a good challenge. The more I was reassured that I was wasting my time, the more determined I became. I was not ready to listen to any external negativity, from anyone. If you want me to achieve a goal, just tell me it’s not possible. Then take a step back and watch.

To me, life had suddenly been put on hold for a while; it was not over. Although the recovery progress would be as slow as a snail on a treadmill! I was determined to get better. I would record any micro improvements that I noticed. Very often, these improvements were so trivial to the outsider that they would not be able to see anything, but more importantly, I could at least feel them. These micro improvements were giant strides to me, strides in the right direction. Unable to contain my excitement, I would tell anyone close by. This often did not go down well with strangers and I am pretty sure that many thought I should be in a straightjacket in a padded cell where I could not hurt myself. Unbeknown to me, there were those in wheelchairs who would watch me intently. Using me as their motivation and role model to improve, they often wished they could be in my position. I was not there to impress anyone. I was just a young man in his mid-forties trying to survive and lead a so-called ‘normal’ life.

What is a normal life, you might ask? For forty-six years, I was a fully abled person. I was just trying to return to what I was. I didn’t give a second thought to the fact that there were people out there who were worse off than me. They had been watching me and wishing that they could be in my position. To them, being able to do what I fought so hard to achieve was normal.

After four years of intensive therapy, I am in a better position to get around. Hours in the gym also helped with this. We all go to gym for different reasons, some go to lose weight, some for health reasons and others want to bulk up. But, to me, gym was therapy, a means to recover, a means to an end.

While in hospital and rehab, I was inundated with visitors and family. After being discharged and returning home, everything changed. Before I knew it, I was on my own, lonely and isolated. Keeping a journal as to what was happening on a daily basis helped me to maintain my sanity. On many occasions, people could not believe what I was going through and what I had to endure. I was regularly told that I should write a book.

After considering it for a long time, I decided to start writing. At first, I was worried if I would have enough for a book. Very soon, I realised that I had to cut back to keep it to a readable length, and my debut book was born.

My greatest wish in the world is for other stroke survivors and their families to learn from what I had to endure. Let them realise that, with enough perseverance, they can improve their quality of life. Surviving a traumatic stroke can change a person. The sudden paralysis is very traumatic, to say the least. The family should be understanding and be there for you; you need their support. Coming to terms with the sudden changes is very daunting. I would never wish what I had to endure on my worst enemy.

Writing the book was very therapeutic for me and, at times, it would bring back memories. Some brought a smile to my face; others were very painful to relive and brought tears to my eyes. The book was written from the heart and I have tried to bring that across in my writing.

I honestly hope that others can learn from it and that you enjoy the book.

Chapter 1

It was 2am on a warm, clear summer morning, the first Friday of the New Year. With my head pounding and eyes burning, I grasped the walls for support as I slowly stumbled through the house, cautiously making my way towards the bathroom. Passing through the doorway, I headed straight for the basin and grabbed on tight for support as I struggled to maintain my balance. Gently, I swayed back and forth.

Staring into the mirror, I did not recognise the bewildered, lifeless reflection staring back at me. My throbbing head felt as though there was a brass band marching through it. This was no ordinary headache. Something serious was wrong that it was causing such an intense burning sensation to stretch between my eyes. Never had I experienced such excruciating pain before. Fixated on the glassy eyed stranger in the mirror, the bathroom started to spin. As the room slowly spun out of control with each pulsating throb of the ever-increasing headache, the burning sensation continued to intensify. It felt as though someone had just poured acid onto my face. With no immediate signs of the headache easing up, I began splashing cold water onto my face, hoping to soothe the excruciating burning feeling, but to no avail. Dazed and completely confused, I just stood there, not knowing what was going on. Gradually, a numbing sensation started to set in on the upper left side of my face. Progressively, it started to inch its way down, towards my neck. Overwhelming nausea followed this numbing sensation.

I turned to my wife, Betty, who was still awake and lying on the bed watching TV. I told her, Babes, I don’t know what’s going on, but I am not feeling well. I have a splitting headache and the left side of my face is all numb. My eyes are also burning. As I spoke, the burning continued to exacerbate. Turning to face the basin again, I unrewardingly continued to splash more and more cold water onto my face.

Not feeling well and very unsteady on my feet, I decided that I’d better lie down. As I turned to face the door, I attempted to walk. But, to my utter horror, my left leg would not respond. It suddenly felt as though it was weighted down with lead. Losing my balance, I reached out and grabbed onto the first fixed object for support. Using any fixed object for support, I progressively shuffled my way through the doorway and to the base of the bed. As I lay down on the bed, Betty sat staring at me, not sure if I was joking around like usual or if I was genuinely not well. As she continued to watch me, she realised I was not joking around. Not knowing what was going on, fear started to set in. She had never seen me like this before.

A combination of the nausea, headache and numbness was not helping to make me feel any better and the spinning room only contributed towards the nausea. Closing my eyes tight was the only way to overcome the spinning sensation. Seconds started to feel like minutes and minutes like hours. As time gradually dragged by, I slowly attempted to open my eyes. The spinning had intensified. Immediately, I shut my eyes tight again and lay there motionless on the bed. After what felt like eternity, I once more slowly started to reopen my eyes. This time, I focussed on a fixed point in front of me. A fixed focus point helped to slow the spinning. Without warning, everything suddenly started to fade in and out of focus. Motionlessly, I lay there with my head resting on my arm. In the background, I could hear the faint, distinct sound of the TV.

Unresponsively, I stared at the light switch on the wall in front of me. I could feel myself drifting in and out of semi-consciousness. Gradually, I felt myself drifting away.

Was this it?

Was I dying?

Would this be the way I was going to cross over?

Would I not get a chance to say goodbye to anyone?

Was this how it was going to end?

It’s nothing like the movies; there are no harps playing welcoming, soothing music, nor are there bright lights, lighting the way to eternity.

Just me lying on the bed feeling like crap.

What about Mathew and Nicole?

Would we never get to see each other again?

They are far too young to have me leave them now. Can I at least get a chance to hug and kiss them goodbye?

Confused and not knowing what to do, Betty nervously paced up and down the room, continually asking if she should call for an ambulance. In my delirious perplexed state of mind, I declined at first. Eventually, with every ounce of energy that I had left in my feeble body, I agonisingly raised my head slightly and gave an excuse of a nod. Terrified, Betty stared at me as she watched my condition rapidly deteriorating in front of her eyes. Not hesitating, she called for an ambulance. The reality and seriousness of the situation suddenly hit home, sending her into a panic. I am not the type of individual to just seek out medical help, unless it is really necessary.

Speaking to the EMS operator on the other side of the phone, Betty was asked a number of imperative questions. One by one, she relayed them to me. In my rapidly fading, disconcerted state of mind, I tried to answer them as best as I could. But, every time I tried to speak, the words leaving my mouth were becoming more and more indistinct and slurred. Betty had a very difficult time trying to comprehend what I was trying to say and I had to repeat myself copiously. This information was conveyed to the EMS operator, who, in turn, relayed it to the ambulance that had been dispatched.

7 months earlier

Four years ago, back in mid-2006, I decided to take a giant leap of faith and become an entrepreneur. Breaking away from the security of a salaried job, I started my own credit insurance brokerage. Business had been good and, in 2010, I was approached by a larger insurance brokerage and asked if I would be interested in merging with them and taking over their credit insurance division. Their current managing director was approaching retirement age and would be stepping down in the near future. They were looking for someone to fulfil his position. Approaching one of the larger credit insurers, they spoke to their MD about any possibilities. My company was recommended. After much negotiating, a merger agreement was finally agreed upon. Merging the two companies would be beneficial to both. The group benefits that I was offered were good as well. At the time, I had no idea as to just how important those benefits would become to me. Bulging at the seams, I was under enormous pressure in my own business; the merger would help to distribute the workload with the additional staff members on board. Combining forces would also give us a greater market share.

Instead of my workload easing up as anticipated, it tripled overnight. The extra staff members I thought I would have never materialised. The current managing director eased off on his responsibilities and took a back seat the moment I joined the company. As a matter of fact, the day I joined, he handed me his keys and left for a one-month vacation overseas. There I was, first day in the office and I was thrown into the deep end. Not being the type of person to back down from a challenge, I accepted it with open arms and ran with it. On his return, he was impressed beyond measure by the way I had handled everything. So impressed was he that he continued to ease up on his responsibilities. Arriving early each morning, before most companies had opened, he would check his emails while waiting for me to arrive. Shortly after I arrived in the office, he would finish reading the newspaper before calling it a day and heading home. Due to the global financial recession that was affecting companies worldwide at the time, more and more debtors were becoming cash strapped; creditors were getting anxious and started looking for alternative ways to protect their largest asset. Creditors started looking around at ways of protecting their debtor books against non-payment and liquidation. For this, they turned to trade credit insurance.

Thinking I was young and invincible, I convinced myself that I could handle the extra pressure until he retired in two years’ time. After which I could use his salary to employ additional staff to help me out. Little did I know that God had other plans in mind for me.

Life had been very kind to me. For the past fourteen years, I had been blessed with a beautiful, loving wife. Together, we had two outstanding children. Matt was growing up so quickly and, before I knew it, he was a teenager. According to the Jewish religion, when a Jewish boy reaches thirteen years of age, he has a barmitzvah. This is a Jewish boy’s journey from childhood to manhood, a time when he becomes accountable for his own religious actions. After a barmitzvah, he is considered a man and is able to participate in all areas of the Jewish faith. Matt was of age and due to have his barmitzvah very soon. Being only a few weeks away, Betty and I had been working flat out, trying to finalise everything, from the hall to the caterers, and ensuring that the hall decorations where all in order and the replies from all the guests we invited had been received. The pressure was on, to say the least.

As part of the barmitzvah, it is tradition to have the family and friends over for supper the Friday night before the barmitzvah. The patio that I had at the house was minute and I needed to extend it. With the barmitzvah only eight weeks away, I spoke to a builder, who assured me that he could extend the patio in just three weeks. Knowing the urgency of the project, he assured me he would be finished with plenty of time to spare. Confident that it would be finished on time, I gave him the go ahead to continue with the building. Everything was going smoothly and on schedule until he hit a glitch with finances. Suddenly, this little glitch would add an extra two weeks to the original scheduled building time, pushing it very close to the barmitzvah.

This only helped to place additional pressure on me. Pressure and stress I did not need. Shouting would not help either. If anything, it would only delay things further. As the time drew closer, the building slowly chugged along. The extra two weeks suddenly became three. The barmitzvah, with all its own pressures, drew closer.

With just over one week to go, the alteration was still not complete. Now it was time for pressure to be placed on the builder. I had to be very careful, as I could not afford to have him walk off the job at the eleventh hour. Realising that time was of the essence, they worked the weekend before the barmitzvah to complete the alteration. Finally, three days before everyone was expected to come over for dinner, they laid the final tile, finishing the job. I sighed with relief. That was cutting it close.

Between the barmitzvah, the building and the increased workload, I was under extreme pressure, to say the least. I was a walking time bomb waiting to explode. In the past, I had always kept a close eye on my health and blood pressure with regular scuba diving medicals. But, for the past few years, work had been so busy. I had not been able to dive for a while, so I let things slip. Not having been for a medical in years, friends kept telling me that I should go for a check-up, as they could see how stressed I was. I convinced them that I was fine. Anyway, I never had time to go. I was just too busy at the moment with everything that was happening. I assured them that when things quietened down I would go for a medical.

I had not only been burning the candle at both ends, but I had started to burn it in the middle as well. Being the sole provider for the family meant I had to work longer and harder hours. The children were at the age where they needed their mom to be there for them. So Betty was a stay at home mom and took care of the children’s needs. She was Mom’s taxi and I was their personal ATM. Unbeknown to me, all the additional pressure and long hours were silently and slowly taking their toll on me.

The days flew by and, before we knew it, the barmitzvah was on top of us. Family and friends joined us for the Friday night dinner. The new patio was looking magnificent. The caterer had all the food laid out. Being spring, the nights were nippy, but warming up, and we had the tables set up on the new patio. Enough to accommodate all our guests, seated. Supper was a great success and the food was outstanding.

The following day, we were up bright and early. The big day had arrived for Matt. Months of preparation were now going to be put to the test. Punctually, we arrived at the synagogue, where the Rabbi met us at the entrance. After being shown where to sit in the synagogue, we nervously made our way to the allocated seats, nerves on edge, as the butterflies rapidly multiplied in Matt’s stomach. Finally, the moment came and he was called up. Disquietly, he stood up and slowly, step by step, made his way up onto the bimah. The bimah is a raised platform in the synagogue from which services are conducted. The congregation’s eyes all turned to focus on Matt as he made his way onto the bimah. You could feel the tension in the air. In anticipation, we all waited for him to start. Softly, he started to recite his portion that he had learnt over the months. As his confidence grew, you could hear it in his voice as it got louder and louder. The months of practice had paid off and he was well prepared. At the end of this momentous occasion, he would be recognised as a man by the Jewish community. A giant step for any thirteen-year-old Jewish boy. The synagogue service went well and it was followed by a morning brunch in celebration of Matt’s coming of age. We had the brunch at a country club around the corner. The catered function was for his closest friends and family. A barmitzvah is a huge occasion for any young man and the celebration afterwards is just as important.

Earlier in the year, Matt and I sat down together. I asked him if he would prefer to have a disco party with all his friends or an overseas trip of his choice. He chose the overseas trip and decided on a tropical island trip. He chose Mauritius as his destination. After making enquiries, I finally settled on an all-inclusive trip to Mauritius. The trip was booked and paid for; we were due to leave at the beginning of December for our island holiday.

In October 2010, my father got sick and was diagnosed with the E. coli virus (a bacteria that lives in the intestines of humans and other animals; some strains can cause severe food poisoning). Treatment required that he be admitted into hospital. Most types of E. coli are harmless, but there are a few that can make one very sick. Betty and I came to visit him in hospital. Arriving at the hospital parking area, it was notably full, considering it was visiting hours. This resulted in us having to park on the far side of the parking lot. Normally, they have a curtsey golf cart that helps to shuffle those needing a lift to the entrance. Being young and healthy, we decided that the exercise would do us good, so we decided to walk up to the entrance. Casually, we strolled towards the entrance when, out of the blue, my leg gave in and I fell onto one of the parked cars. Shocked and totally confused by what had just happened, I stood there for a while, leaning on the car for support. A few minutes went by and I tried to walk again. Everything was back to normal, so we continued on our way. I did not know what had just happened. When I got into the ward, I told my family about the incident. They were just as confused as me as to what happened. We laughed it off and carried on talking, never giving it another thought. In hindsight, I now wonder about what happened to me in the car park. Had I suffered a transient ischemic attack (TIA), also known as a ‘mini stroke’? These occur when a blood clot blocks blood flow in the brain; the blockage is temporary (transient) and the symptoms are often very brief, lasting anything from a few minutes up to a couple of hours. Unlike a full on stroke, TIAs generally do not kill brain cells.

Had I not been so ignorant about TIAs, I could have obtained immediate help; after all, I was already at a hospital. TIAs should never be ignored, as they are a warning sign that a major stoke might be on its way in the next few months. Treatment should be sought early following any TIA.

TIAs and strokes were foreign to me. I did not know anyone who had suffered either. Therefore, in my ignorance, I brushed it off and did not let it bother me. Anyway, strokes only happened to the elderly, not to people in their prime. I just put it down to me being over worked and stressed. Looking back, I can only live the balance of my life, wondering if I indeed did suffer a TIA or not. Were the warning signs there? Did I just ignore them in ignorance? The fallacy that TIAs and strokes are only for the elderly is so very wrong. A stroke or TIA can strike anyone, any time, at any age. There are reported cases of babies being born paralysed, after having suffered a stroke in the mother’s womb. You could be no further from the truth, thinking that you were infallible to stroke.

The next few months seemed to fly by. I had been very busy at work, especially with year-end approaching so rapidly. Before I knew it, December was upon us, meaning that the holiday season was fast approaching. Most manufacturing businesses were winding down for the upcoming builders’ holiday, while, on the other hand, retailers were gearing up for the Christmas rush. For my family and me, we were getting ready to take a week’s vacation in Mauritius. The kids were so excited and were counting the days; nine days to go.

The nine days flew by for me at work and, finally, the day arrived. Passports in hand and two overexcited kids, we headed for the airport. After passing through passport control, we enjoyed a light meal in one of the premier lounges. The kids were thrilled to be going to Mauritius and everything was new and exciting for them. After a brief flight, we finally touched down in Mauritius. Due to the time difference, it was dark when we landed. As we exited the plane, we were overwhelmed by the humidity and warm night air. After passing through customs and passport control, we made our way towards the hotel’s air-conditioned shuttle bus that was waiting to collect us. In the darkness of the night, we were unable to see much as we meandered our way down the narrow winding roads towards the hotel. The journey took us just on an hour to travel.

Arriving at the hotel, we were told to leave our bags with the shuttle bus and that they would be taken to our room while we checked in. Coming from South Africa, where crime was