My speech from last night:

The theme of this art exhibition is “faith, hope and courage”. I wrote this on my postcard, but I feel like I should say this again. I really don’t think I’m particularly courageous or amazing. I think what happened to me was testament to the saying that shit happens.

My name is Jen. I’m 24, and in December last year, I had a stroke. The medical phrase on my hospital discharge letter was “right occipital haematoma and associated subarachnoid bleed, left tempero-occipital venous infarct with haemorrhagic transformation, superior sagittal sinus thrombosis”. In normal English, it was a clot in the back, which caused a bleed on the right side. It left me blind for a day, unable to feel my left side for a week and a half, and in hospital for a month in a half.

There were a number of reasons why I had a stroke. It was a combination of having surgery, having a lumbar drain, being on the Pill, having high blood pressure, and having excessive steroid in my system. Every one of those things was a result, whether directly or indirectly, of a disease called Cushing’s Disease.

The stroke was not really a fun experience. The actual stroke was just incredibly painful. It was the worst headache I’d ever had, but I didn’t realise that it wasn’t what headaches normally are like. I thought I was just a pussy who couldn’t deal with pain.
I recovered really well from the stroke for a few reasons. The two main ones were my age, and luck. I was 23 when I had the stroke, and my brain could recover faster than an older brain, because it’s more plastic. I was also lucky in that the veins, arteries and blood vessels were able to recover from this.

I guess another factor was the fact that I believed that I’d make a full recovery. My boyfriend at the time wrote me a note after the stroke, saying that he knew I would make a full recovery, and it would just take time. I believed him, so not recovering was out of the question.

I’m also very impatient, and I loved my life. I wanted it back. I had just finished uni, been living with my then boyfriend for two months, started at a new and wonderful job ten days before being admitted for surgery. Life was awesome, and I wanted it back more than anything else. My physio and my OT knew this, and they pushed me at every session. When I wasn’t with them, I’d practise the exercises they gave me. If there was anything I could do to get out of hospital sooner, then I was going to do it. I remember hatching escape plans, and loving being taken outside when my boyfriend visited. Fresh air and sunlight is amazing, and you don’t get a lot of that when you’re in the same corner of a hospital room every day.

Now, I’ve been out of hospital for seven months. I’ve got plans to go cycling through Vietnam next March to raise money for the National Stroke Foundation. I’m not fully recovered, but I’m pretty damn close. I still love life, and I think that to still be alive is amazing and wonderful. I didn’t really have faith or hope that I would recover; I knew that I would recover. Not recovering was not an option. I think stubbornness might be a more accurate descriptor. I also don’t think I was particularly brave about this. I did what anyone would have done if they love their life and want it back more than anything else. I didn’t choose for life to take that particular path, but it did. There is no point in being angry or bitter, or thinking that life is unfair. Life *is* unfair, but life is also beautiful and amazing, and it’s bigger and better than these slight hiccups.

However, this whole thing has made me feel a bit odd. A lot of people have told me that they think I’m strong, and brave, and amazing. I really don’t think I’m any of that. I think I’m incredibly lucky in that what caused my Cushing’s was a large and obvious tumour that was relatively simple to remove. I’m lucky in that I had a stroke at the age I did, instead of when I was older. I’m lucky in that somehow, the arteries, veins and blood vessels in my brain were able to recover from this.

I think that I did what anyone would have done. I love my life, and there are so many fabulous aspects to it, and things to look forward to every day. I hated that it was put on hold for a little while, but really, it wasn’t – the entire journey has been a learning experience and one that I don’t wish never happened. It would have been preferable, sure, but since it has, there have been some pretty great things that have come out of it.

When I was in hospital, I worked hard at physio and OT every day because I wanted to get the hell out of there. To do that, I had to get better, and I had to do everything I could to do that. I don’t think I’m brave for doing it, because it wasn’t my choice. I didn’t choose for life to take that particular path, but it did. I remained positive and happy throughout the majority of it, because that’s what I do – the eternal optimist. Things could have been a lot worse, and at least I’m still alive. Even before I was discharged from hospital, and in the first few days after when I still couldn’t really move my left side, I would think that it’s okay. There’s no use in being bitter or angry, and there’s no use in thinking that life isn’t fair. Life *isn’t* fair, but life is also bigger and better than these slight hiccups. That isn’t me being brave or amazing, that is just my belief system at work. I think that I’m incredibly lucky, and most of us are incredibly lucky, and we don’t appreciate that enough. Life, and our bodies, are fabulous.

Oh, one more thing – I did have an extra motivation for making a good recovery. There was a rehab case manager who was a bit of a bitch, and she was determined to send me to a rehab hospital, even though she wasn’t even seeing the progress I made every single day. She treated me like any other stroke patient, and the norm is to go to a rehab hospital. She couldn’t promise me a full recovery, she said. So my recovery was partly a desire to go home and get my life back, and also a “Fuck you” to this rehab case manager. Not a full recovery my arse.

Everything was put on hold, however, because of a slight hiccup. When I had surgery in November, I also managed to get a stroke in the deal. The whole delightful story is on this website, under the little tab that says “The Stroke“.

I am now, for the most part, fine. Sam and I are no longer together, I am still working at the Urban Research Centre, and life is chugging along fantastically. I have plans for two very exciting things in the pipeline, one of which is the reason for this website.

I have signed up to do one of the National Stroke Foundation’s Memorable Challenges. The one I registered for is a cycle trek through Vietnam in March 2010. I need to raise $6500 by that time, and that’s what this is for. To ask people to please give generously, because strokes are rather unpleasant, and the National Stroke Foundation does pretty important work in getting the word out about it.

This blog will track my fun and exciting journey in raising money, getting fit, and learning how to ride a bike.

All donations over $2 are tax deductible, and we’re getting pretty close to the end of the financial year, so now would be a pretty good time to donate!