October 5th - 6th 2019

October 5^th 2019

Was a good day, Martin was in a good mood, he was going out to meet some old friends who he would meet up with every now and then as he didn’t go out much.  I gave him a lift to the pub where he was meeting his friends, quite early, around 5.40pm ish.  I told him to be careful with his drink as he was out early, he laughed and told me he doesn’t get like me when I’ve had a drink (he's worse, ha) and he’d be fine. He kissed me, and told me I was pretty, I remember thinking at the time where did that come from?  I told him I loved him and to call me if he needed help getting home.  That is the last time I saw him healthy.  He had been complaining earlier in the week of a migraine, but didn’t make too much of it, and he did suffer migraines since before I knew him, and it wasn’t bothering him enough to stop him going to work, or out to the pub. 

That night, the kids were settled doing their own thing, Jamie was away at uni, Taran was asleep and I was watching TV in our bedroom. I watched TV till late.  But I had heard Martin come home before midnight, and potter about downstairs  I heard him speak to Kiera and then he settled on the sofa downstairs, which he often did if he’d had a drink, I didn’t check on him, why would I, he’d have a snooze and go to bed later on. 

October 6^th 2019

It was Sunday morning, no need to get up early and the kids were still asleep.  I heard Kiera get up and go downstairs.  She came back up to my room and told me her dad was lying on the floor in the living room.  I won’t go into details.  I went downstairs, and initially thought he was still drunk.. I actually shouted for him to get up off the floor as he’d been sick.  He lifted his head slightly and told me he’d had a stroke, again I shouted for him to get up as needed to clean the mess.  He told me he couldn’t.  I remember the panic starting to build at that point, he was slurring his words and I knew he couldn’t still be that drunk as he was home before midnight.  I don’t think I was thinking straight at this time, I tried to help him get up and I couldn’t, he was a dead weight as his left side was completely useless, I begged him to help me help him get up, but he couldn’t. I told him I would have to call an ambulance if he didn’t get up. 

I dialled 111 first, then thought what the hell was I doing, I dialled 999.  I was asked to tell him to repeat the words ‘the early bird catches the worm’, he did but the left side of his mouth didn’t move, the left side of his face drooped, I think I tried to convince myself it was because he had been lying on that side of his body on the floor.  I was then told to ask him to raise both his arms, he raised his right arm.  I told him ‘no both arms’, he said he was. My words to the operator were just ‘oh no’. 

My 3 kids who were at home, were at the living room door now, I told them to stay on the stairs or upstairs as I was waiting for the ambulance, they thought his state was drink related. The ambulance seemed to take forever. The operator was on the phone to me for 20 minutes before telling me she had to go and take another call but the ambulance was on it’s way.  Another 20 minutes had passed where I had made Martin comfortable, clean clothes, pillow, blanket, got myself cleaned up and ready to go to the hospital while Kiera kept a watch on her dad and for the ambulance.

The ambulance finally arrived, and it took 3 of us to lift Martin into a chair so he could be moved to the ambulance, they told me before leaving that it was possible that he’d had a stroke so they would be taking him to Whiston hospital where they have a stroke ward.  I followed on in my car, told the kids to get dressed as I’d call my sister for them to go to hers until I could contact my parents.

Martin arrived in A&E, and after I had arrived he was sent for a scan so I made the phone calls I needed to make.  Soon after he moved onto the ward, I was told there had been a ‘significant event’ on his brain and they would be treating him for a stroke and possibly transferred to The Walton Centre where they were equipped to do surgery at short notice should he need it.  Words like, brain injury, next few hours being critical, if he has an op it will be to save his life rather than mobility .. went swimming around in my head as I could not hold all the information in.

Martin was still talking, and he still had his humour, he asked me to call work to tell them he couldn’t come in on Monday as he had temporary paralysis.  He was asked by the medics if he could speak Spanish, being as his surname is Spanish, he replied ‘I could last night’.  They laughed, at his quick replies, but he was in pain. He told me he had tried to get up off the sofa in the night but couldn’t and he’d fell onto the floor.  I told him he should have come to bed in the first place, he said ‘no, I might have pissed the bed’, I said at least I’d have known something was wrong. His consultant confirmed that he would be transferred urgently to The Walton Centre where they would monitor for themselves and decide if they would operate.

I remember there being some time limit on when the op should be and how recovery should go, but I can’t think what it was now as all that went out of the window. 

I followed him again by car to The Walton Centre.  I was there till extremely late and he was settled for the night on the intensive care unit.  I came home to an empty house as the kids were all at my parents by now.  I remember pacing the kitchen as did not know what to do with myself, I couldn’t cry, I wanted to scream though, I probably did.  Why hadn’t I gone to check on him after he came home the night before, insist that he went to bed, or got up earlier? This guilt is something I still need to work on.