Note: this was edited about 6 hours after publishing to create some points of clarity, add a song quote and remove some identifiers

I have played this day over and over in my head for 18 months wishing that one time it would play out differently or that I could change the outcome. ; I’m told this a common trauma /ptsd behaviour. I can’t change what happened but accepting it has happened is good foundation ; so I’m starting by writing it out.

The 11th of May 2023. I woke up, in a bed that wasn’t mine in a room that wasn’t mine which had a lot of background noise, I was in a hospital where I’d spent the night to prepare for my long anticipated cardiac surgery “it’s today, you’ve committed and you’re doing this” my inner monologue said.

I had 2 bottles of a pre operative drink to get through; I’d had 2 the night before and they tasted horrible. I forced them down with my stomach feeling like a rock

A pleasant support worker cameober to say good morning and we had a funny chat about pubic hair that she wanted to shave, mine, not hers, for surgical infection reasons . I wasn’t especially invested in this conversation so made an excuse and went to the bathroom.

I had an absolutely horrendous toilet experience; me and my stomach don’t cope well with stress and I’m sure the pre op drink was evil . I showered and while I was drying off could hear conversation about me on the other side of the bathroom door. I put my surgical gown on, opened the door and 2 theatre staff were stood like security waiting to escort me to theatre. We walked down to their recovery area where I was seated for a short time before going to the anaesthetic room.

I climbed myself onto the operating table. The anaesthetist who I’d met the night before told me he’d been thinking overnight and had a slight change of plan to what we’d previously discussed: mainly he wanted to place a central line (a big drip that goes through your neck to your heart through the vena cava, big artery) it allows anaesthetic drugs and fluids to be given quickly, it offers additional monitoring and is highly useful in high level care afterwards such as ICU.

I knew it meant the anaesthetist was concerned “if he’s worried why are you still doing this? It’s not too late to stop, jump up and walk out ” I told myself that doing that would be very dramatic but I also knew I needed the surgery for my heart to be safer and I’d waited over a year to get to this point, “shut up and carry on you’ll soon be anaesthetised and not know”.

And true to that I didn’t know;the surgery just sort of happened.

I’ve got a blank space in my memory at this point.

My next real memory is being on a bed, not the operating trolley I’d previously been on. The back was raised up so I was half sitting, I felt like I was sliding down the bed and uncomfortable so tried to reposition myself pressing my hands into the bed to shuffle up, but nothing happened. My brain slowly decoded that my left arm hadn’t moved. Still uncomfortable I decided to try digging my heels in and pushing up, again, no movement and my left leg hadn’t moved at all. I tried moving just my leg but zero happened.

There’s more memory blank spots sparodically around this time. At some point, I think around lunch time Rich arrived and sat to my right. I remember trying to speak and there being silence out “oh shit Ben, think how you can communicate? ” I used my right hand to grab Richard’s and started scratching letters on the back of his hand hoping he’d understand what I was doing; I can’t remember at this point what I wanted to say, but I know I was absolutely terrified. I tried to move myself again and for a third time nothing happened I realised I could raise my left leg a little if I really tried. I wanted someone to look at my leg and arm to work out what was wrong so started thrashing as much as I could with the thought process of “they’ll see it moving and know it’s not right” but that didn’t happen, instead a while later Rich flagged it and was told it was me in pain so they would get some painkiller. “I’m not in pain you idiots” I screamed internally, paralysed in bed I watched as a nurse drew up a strong opiod painkiller to my left.

Time went on, I’ve got more black spots.

I started piecing things together

“You aren’t in pain no matter what they say, your right side is active just your left isn’t and you can’t speak.

Oh shit, shit, shit this is a textbook neurological event. You need help. How do I tell someone if I can’t speak?”

More black spots.

At some point a doctor appeared and stood at the foot of my bed

“Ben we think you’ve had a neurological event and want to scan you and maybe move you to another hospital to treat”

I was aware it had gotten dark out and my parents were going to be out at a long anticipated event, I didn’t want them disturbing. I’d been adamant they should go when they’d considered cancelling.

“No shit I’ve had a Neuro event , crack on then” i willed I grabbed Richard’s hand scratching the letters C and T because I once had a meltdown in an mri and vowed to never do another, I was panicked thinking I was already limited in movement, unable to communicate and possibly about to be put in a position that made me uncomfortable. Rich confirmed it was a CT and to breathe through it.

“You might never move again, you might never speak, work or do anything” my thoughts raced. I mouthed the word Sorry to Rich as I was wheeled away for the scan thinking our lives were over.

I don’t remember much more, some conversations around it being a stroke but I couldn’t be treated at the very nearby neurosurgery centre . I felt myself crumbling and getting angry. If only I could talk and try to help; I could phone my contacts in the neurosurgery centre and plead my case; I could say I’d been aware of the event for a while

The blank tape continues.

I know my parents came at some point in the evening But it’s all jumbled from here. the following days of intensive care just happened around me; I’ve been told the blank spots and blurred days are essentially where my brain went “oh no this is horrible I won’t ever want to remember this” so it stops recording. This was an analogy from my first psychologist that I really liked and has stuck with me

When the silence isn’t quiet
And it feels like it’s getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying
But I promise we’ll take the world to its feet
And move mountains
Bring it to its feet
And move mountains

🎵 Rise Up – Andrea Day 2015