When she was eight years old, she went for a swim in her local pool. She was a good swimmer, doing it for her county, and loving it… her mother and father told her that she’d always been a water baby. Well, that night, she was with her brother and their two friends, and on came a massive headache. She thought nothing of it, and continued swimming but her headache got worse and she didn’t really know what to do.

<div> </div><div>She swam over to my friend’s mum, who was looking after her and her brother, and the mother advised me to get out of the pool. As she did as she was told she felt as if the world was swallowing her whole and she fell to the floor and blackness engulfed her small, fragile, frail body.</div><div> </div><div>She came to, sitting on a chair at the side of the shallow end, her mother running towards her. If it was the era, Austen would have told that the small girl was ‘of strong constitution’. Blood and needles had always fascinated her, and she hoped to one day become a doctor, but her life changed in the following month that meant that she could never be the surgeon that she once hoped.</div><div> </div><div>The sports manager had his car started whilst her mother, carrying her in her arms, ran to the awaiting Fiat. The nearest hospital was only a few minutes drive. Waiting in the A&E reception, they were told that they were in Group C, with A meaning urgent. The slight girl didn’t know what was happening; all she wanted to do was go to sleep. Her mother was sitting by her, looking worried and increasingly upset, but trying to hide her pain. The girl’s father was rushing to the hospital from work. Three and a half hours later the girls name was called. After a doctor asked her where she lived, she was so exhausted from the day at school, the two hour training session with her coach, the hours piano practice that she wanted to fit in before the ‘play night’ in the local pool. She said nonchalantly, ‘oh, it’s near here… I can direct you if you want?’ From that one answer, the doctors thought she has amnesia… they didn’t check her hand grip balance, they didn’t check her face if one side had fallen.</div><div> </div><div>After the initial diagnosis of amnesia, the doctors wanted to do a lumbar puncture to make sure it wasn’t meningitis and to check her brain, so they put her through gruelling MRI and CAT scans. Finally, after 3 weeks of staying in hospital, with her parents by her side, and her brother with family friends, her parents were told that she had had a stroke. They sent her home that night, with the strict instructions to give her aspirin and water, but to treat her like any other eight year old, but to keep in mind that she would sometimes get frustrated.</div><div> </div><div>During the first week in hospital her speech functions disintegrated, and as the doctors found out, her right side was paralysed, so she couldn’t walk or write. The part of her brain that had been affected meant that she also lost the ability to get words out. It was like getting from A to B, with half the map ripped out. She would know what she would want to say, but when she tried to say, it would only come out as illegible sounds and grunts. Within the hour of getting home, her father was rushing her back to hospital; she was throwing up, her face had fallen again, and the progress that she made in hospital dissapeared. She was kept in for another 2 weeks whilst the doctors tested her again, everything to do with brain function, they attached her to wires, drained pints of blood from her whole family, and found nothing out if the ordinary. They came to the conclusion that she had had a stuttering stroke, which can happen over a few weeks.</div><div> </div><div>The damage from the stroke is still lingering in her body; physically, physiologically and emotionally. But after 17 years of living with the effects, her speech had come back, her ability to read and write is back to normal and she can walk again.</div><div> </div><div>She dreams one day that stem cell research will bring back the dexterity that she used to have in her right side, but she has come to the conclusion, reality and realisation that the only person that she can rely on to make her body better is herself.</div><div> </div><div>She feels that there is no point in regretting anything; like the fact that she can’t swim or that she can’t again play the piano, or that becoming a surgeon is a dream, far off in the distance. Regrets are from the past, looking back to the past. Yes, you can learn from them, but there is always a silver lining… she’s positive, and happy with her life and is damn sure that she’s going to live life to the fullest.</div><div> </div><div>She wouldn’t be the person she is now with out the troubles and mistakes from the past… and she’s always looking for that silver lining.</div>