I was admitted to the Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel in the early hours of Tuesday morning on the 22nd January and spent seven amazing days there which I hope, by God's kindess will turn out to be a means of lasting blessing to me, my family, my church and others.
I offer this blog in that hope - and if shortcomings are seen in my reasoning and reflections in it, then I really hope that they will be corrected gently by friends or otherwise by others.
I had been dizzy with headaches for a week before admission and during that time I had been to my GP who prescribed some medication. At this stage my symptoms were not clear enough to allow a full diagnosis to take place so I returned to teach. Later on the Friday, because of the severity of the symptoms I made my mind up not to drive to Stoke on Trent (from London) for my daughter's fencing competition. Instead I decided go up in the minibus and to return on Saturday with her on the train. Things went well and we returned on Saturday evening.
From Sunday morning everything gets hazy until Tuesday afternoon. I slept on Sunday morning and my wife, Pauline,left me in bed while she and our eight children went to church. In the afternoon I was awoken for dinner and it appeared to my wife that as well as being unusually quiet I was attempting to hide the fact that I was not using my right hand to eat. She was so concerned she took me to the local Accident and Emergency where I was checked out and sent off with a note to take to my GP the next day. On Monday Pauline, left me asleep in the morning and went in to teach at Tyndale Tuition Group instead of me. Then during the afternoon she took me to see the GP, who immediately rang the hospital and said he was sending me in as a suspected stroke case. I had barely been able walk or dress myself and I recollect nothing of these events at all, even though I was responsive to questions. I couldn't make the short walk from the surgery to our van and so an ambulance had to be called. This was about half past five in the evening. We got to the hospital at about 6 o'clock and I was sent for a CT scan. I was then taken to the Acute Unit in the A & E for observation at which point the doctors said that I would be transferred to the Royal London Hospital at Whitechapel and into the care of specialists there.
At about half past nine my dad my brother, one of my sons and my fellow deacons arrived at the Acute Unit to support my wife and to see me. I still remember none of this apart from a vague recollection that it was raining and one of the deacons read from a psalm. Then at about midnight I was "Blue-lighted" to the Royal London. Again, I have no memory of any of this even though I spoke to all who spoke to me.
