Below: Quite the 'jubilant' affair
Above: You truly never know what could be just around the corner that would drastically & irreversibly change your life forevermore.
One day you're taking your adorable (British) Mother Duck to your London school/work to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee while she comes to visit her home country on the other side of the world, the next you're struggling every single moment to merely survive just another day more with the confronting odds certainly stacked against you (two-to-one chance of carking it within five years of a stroke with significantly-reduced quality of life and/or permanent disability a strong likelihood for those 'fortunate' to survive a catastrophic stroke).
Twickenham, U.K.
One month before the first stroke, both of us (<< even Mummy, the Master-of-Mental-Health Registered Nurse, who was particularly working with acquired-brain-injury patients at the time) were totally oblivious to the horror that lay ahead.
June 2012
Despite being in my otherwise-youthful mid-20s, I had to prepare my Will upon becoming unwell as the risk that I would in fact die as a result was considered a confronting 2-to-1 (and I had already had two hits of brain damage so the bleak odds certainly were not in my favour). Once out of the (immediate) woods back at home in Australia (from G.B. where the 'brain explosions' had struck) just six weeks post Stroke 2 (I was permitted to leave hospital earlier than what would otherwise be typical for my particular mind's vulnerable situation given Mother Duck so kindly/conveniently is a veteran registered nurse with a Master's degree in Mental Health so I truly was in the best hands for the gruelling rehab road that lay ahead), having recently turned 27 (whilst in dreary hospital, mind you), I needed to write such a morbid legal document in the likely event that I didn't survive to the other end despite initially pulling through to make it (/waltz) out of hospital. Terrifyingly, the probability of staying alive past five years after suffering a stroke (regardless of age) was at just 1-in-3 (with now a reduced life expectancy even if I had managed to hang on initially). In layman's terms, the chances of hanging on and staying alive after a culmination of strokes = not bloody likely!
Below: While all clever Strokes-Get-the-Blokes blog readers know the BE FAST mnemonic to test if one suspects a stroke's presence, there would be some who would prefer to follow this fabricated one clearly showcasing society's current (<<operative word) ignorance when it comes to our 2nd biggest killer (only after heart disease). That's why education is key = BE FAST!
Being independent after the second onslaught to the mind was merely a pipe dream (for years upon years) with vast challenges throughout and constant, including extreme lack of spatial navigation, short-term memory, controlling of emotions + various byproducts of someone trying to live on with such confronting brain damage & immense loss in all facets of life. As a result, inward strength, a keen sense of humour & almighty resilience all turned up and didn't leave my side, hanging in there for the years that have continued to pass on by in the 'limbo' world that I was forced into. As one can imagine after such an assault to your most prized + sophisticated organ, believing in myself certainly didn't come immediately post strokes (like I once had by the bucketloads prior to the brain attacks, a concerning distinction I was acutely aware of from the get-go) but rather when I was to bare witness to those sincere supporters showing extraordinary acts of kindness, inclusion & insight, exemplifying the pinnacle of human compassion & just how loved I truly am. As I've disclosed many times before, how I have been treated (the positive and the negative) has not been a reflection of who I am but rather, on the quality of the people I interact with which has at times shown to be quite the confronting realisation, one that has unsurprisingly been a common theme when interacting with fellow stroke survivors (young ones, in particular) struggling with living on as a young soul with life-rendering brain damage.
Below: Memory-loss swagger
As I sit here now in my own little abode, a considerable 1300km away from my nurturing Mother Duck's (initial-rehabilitation) neuro nest in a desired location I actually want to be, over a decade on from the cruel onslaught that the second stroke caused, I'm gradually understanding that life is better when your focus is not on what's happening around you but rather what's happening inside you instead. Letting things be and now letting people go without begging for explanations & compassion, without expecting everyone to understand where I'm coming from nor what I'm precisely going through is a cathartic attitude that I'm now actively trying to focus on. Despite what I have tragically lost, both directly and indirectly, I am still worthy, I am still that cherished Kitty Kat with all my renowned + valued traits that have never waned despite what extreme suffering, judgement & abandonment that all have happened since the brain attacks. The lasting effects of 2012's two cruel strokes have not only required vast inward strength, but humour and resilience galore. Of course, getting (all) the blokes has been a fortunate + welcomed added bonus.
Above: At the finer end of the memory-retention spectrum is phenomenal British architectural artist, Stephen Wiltshire, who is renowned for his astonishing ability to draw detailed cityscapes using just his (exceptional) memory after a mere glance at what he is to then replicate in exquisite + precise detail.
Below: Ensuring to recall these practical & objective concepts during extreme suffering is far more important than remembering what one had for dinner the previous night (<< #unimportantinformation!)
Above: Yes, yes, yes!
Unlike when your thinking tank is regularly flushed with salty fluid to help clear toxins and waste, your most advanced organ is instead flooded with such a fluid post a brain attack, ultimately drowning its sacred cells in the process -
Such a compelling concept is of particular interest to this Special K as my brain's blood vessels were initially thought to be swollen in an attempt to protect the brain itself from a virus (or other agent) & as a result, a lumbar puncture (aka spinal tap, a somewhat-unnecessary-yet-lingering back pain + headache post, see below graphic for a visual of what went down) was immediately required upon admission at St G's Emergency Department in London.
Where precisely the 'salty water' comes from is now thought to be the sodium-rich cerebrospinal fluid throughout the brain that then causes the brain to swell (which can cause devastating permanent brain damage as a result).
Quite the fascinating finding (recently published in reputable academic journal, Science) assists in focusing possible treatments to try subdue swelling and optimise one's traits + their abilities that may have initially been compromised.
Now, with my own firsthand dealings with neglect and ignorance when both strokes struck, we all should be even more aware so to help reduce the harsh, life-ending/rendering effects a stroke survivor may suffer with efficiency & due diligence.
Whoop, whoop!
Above: Given the second stroke had caused such extreme short-term-memory loss, the medical team at St George's Hospital presumed I had a virus of the brain (known as encephalitis) which leads to the inflammation of its blood vessels, tending to cause confusion, disorientation & amnesia aka this little Kitty in late 2012 to a T! Upon admission to hospital, I was swiftly given a spinal tap to check whether my severe anterograde amnesia was the result of encephalitis. It took a considerable 10 days for the hospital to even acknowledge the second stroke in the brain's small-but-mighty hippocampus.
How I survived without further strokes and/or death while being misdiagnosed for such an extended-&-concerning length of time is truly beyond me.
Have you ever wondered why the majority of stroke sufferers won't even survive five years post (& close to a concerning 20% of stroke sufferers are under retirement age), with the immediate death rate being a substantial one in three of all sufferers?
As the two shocking medical experiences I experienced with stroke treatment (lack there of), in particular, lay privy to, even the most educated, well-experienced medical experts can blatantly ignore classic stroke symptoms & a continually-deteriorating state when a stroke sufferer (right in the midst of losing mass brain cells every minute #timeisbrain) is presented to them at a top-tier hospital's emergency ward - including one renowned for their particular neurology department. It took a considerable TEN DAYS for the second stroke to finally be acknowledged (although the brain's hippocampus is relatively minuscule in size, it is rather mighty in purpose) so I didn't receive vital treatment within an hour (like I - amidst in sheer confusion - had actively sought myself when strokes struck), not even 200+ hours.
It really can not be said enough; speed is of the essence for stroke.
Undoubtedly, my life would be drastically different now had there been immediate (& appropriate) medical intervention like I myself had desperately and constantly sought the very moment I was conscious & experiencing extreme short-term memory loss combined with utter confusion + anxiety (initially under the presumption I had died and was in the afterlife) caused by Stroke #2 (aka classic stroke symptoms).
Above:
(don't we know it?! #exhibitakittykat)
Above: Given the secondary effect from brain damage of thinking I was dead or at the very least in a coma on the brink of death while in hospital after Stroke 2, thoughtful supporters such as my younger sister orchestrated a range of creative selfies regularly sent my way while she was still Down Under to help reduce the sheer paranoia that I had already seen such a selfie previously (which had shown to make my 'mushy' mind think I must have been dead or at the very least in a coma seeing the same photos on a loop), saving us all angst & confusion in the process.
Cheers, Jack Attack, we love your work!
November 2012
Above: As I had suddenly woke with a second far-more-debilitating stroke officially diagnosed (deduced day 10 of hospital vacay), my Year-4 class understandably had been let down so I was filled with anxiety, dread and disappointment in myself for failing to be with them at school. Fortunately, some thoughtful workmates had the darling students create the best get-well wishes a sick person could ever wish for and I'd sit there in my hospital bed reading their creative words of sympathy endlessly & not because of the prevalent memory loss (their efforts were immediately lodged by my broken brain #emotionalconnection) but because hope + humour have shown to be the key to life in the aftermath of the two cruel strokes, in particular (highly recommend the two!).
St George's Hospital, London U.K.
November 2012
St George's Hospital, London U.K.
December 2012
Below: Jokes about strokes and one of their most renowned effects. amnesia (keep them coming!)
Below: 
Below: While they are few and far between, there definitely are positive aspects to having an impaired memory such as being blissfully unaware of any past social faux pas interactions which can't be the same for a cringing li'l 'Ellie' (/elephant). Although depending on your perspective, I certainly have dodged a (wincing-in-shame) bullet there with my fleeting 'goldfish' memory! 
Above: Putting together an outfit, even purchasing it prior, required assistance from this particular doting PA (/li'l sister) who would walk into my home and demand I change as what I was wearing was not reflecting who I was. 'A shadow of my former self' could not be truer words. Fortunately, such a strange stroke effect was only temporary while I took my time rerouting around the dead brain and simply being reacquainted with my soul.
Not even Hollywood movie stars are exempt from vicious attacks of the mind #oneinfourpeoplesufferstrokes -
"I lost everything. The only thing I could hold onto was my sense of humour" Foxx shared,
"If I can stay funny, I can stay alive'."
- fellow young stroke survivor (+ Academy-award-winning actor, secondly #justkidding), Jamie Foxx (above in action during his new Netflix comedy special), focusing on what's important post something as catastrophic & soul (+ life) crushing as the 2023 pesky ole infarction to his mind (which was also a sudden-+-fierce headache for Foxx just like my particular experience with the first stroke's particular symptoms that were initially ignored for hours by medical professionals). Foxx describes the experience as 'going to hell and back'. Too bloody right, Mr F.
Luckily for Foxx, his clever sister knew he wasn't acting his usual self so she was swift into action ensuring Foxx received an appropriate life-saving procedure when he was rushed to hospital the moment such a wise sister witnessed the standard stroke symptoms.
Here's to the loyal, feisty sisters being our biggest allies!
Below: Story of my life.
This particularly-challenging element of my life requires extensive scaffolding strategies to be constantly put in place & even then, they are not necessarily effective.
Sheer persistence combined with patience (the distinct presence of this acquired attribute of mine has even surprised myself!), along with tried-+-tested techniques have proven (in my case, at least) to make all the difference.
Even now, over a decade on from the two strokes' onslaught, my daily life requires extensive scaffolding by myself and my thoughtful support network. Such scaffolding can range from helpful reminders on my phone's Calendar app alerting me throughout the day (anything from what I had previously planned to have for dinner to what time to leave home to ensure I meet a friend for a drink at the right time, fleeting thoughts when you're a Special K) to using its Maps app to guide me to the nearby park a 10-minute walk away to meet friends (the nifty smart watch means I don't have to constantly look at my phone when walking as it vibrates when I am to turn a different direction, simply marvellous!)
As some have certainly known (/noticed!), my fashion sense unexpectedly (+ instantly) also went out the window as a result of the second stroke. How does a stroke then affect your sacred identity and expressing such when you're merely in your 20s and have just/finally established your frontal lobe's unique persona (a part of my brain that technically has no damage from the two strokes whatsoever yet the brain attacks had me constantly questioning my particular creative flair)?! You certainly didn't get told such confusion & angst would be a side-effect of a brain attack to the hippocampus by the medical professionals when still in hospital. Instead, the focus was purely on the deeply-concerning direct effects, in my case, extreme (<< understatement) short-term memory loss (some medical hot shots have proclaimed it as the most severe they had ever witnessed yet there was no medal nor even a colourful little ribbon in acknowledgement! One day soon!), a 50% visual-field deficit, a mild form of aphasia that affected the flow of every single sentence I tried to produce, heightened emotions & a total lack of spatial navigation (even when in an otherwise-simple two-bedroom home I had been given a complete rundown of mere minutes earlier + visited many times before!).
Shockingly, I could not even put together anything more complex than a standard shirt-+-shorts ensemble (not necessarily complementary to one another either) when getting ready for the day/event ahead so needed my handy little offsider/PA/younger sister (even my Mother Duck if she was so willing which was a role she had last visited all the way back in the '90s) to help plan & allocate in order to prevent being overwhelmed and thus, having a li'l meltdown over my sheer incompetence at such a basic task (the awareness of my abilities which is processed in the brain's high-functioning frontal lobe was unfortunately - in such an instance - firing all cylinders). Confronting central. Just to put a standard outfit together. How is that an effect of stroke?! We certainly don't tend to learn about the confusing identity angst some stroke survivors specifically suffer - indefinitely - as a result of brain damage. The invisible effects, such as loss of identity and general discombobulation of one's role in the world are far more concerning than the physical ones I particularly suffered and let's not even get started on hair & make-up skills + individual flair that were all suddenly demolished by Stroke 2.
Looking back, I was a rather lost Kitty in those initial years (as expected #textbookstrokesurvivor), particularly in my fashion sense & sacred identity as a whole which made for a truly confusing + isolating chapter/s especially with the added strain of being avoided/banished by some (questionable) people because of such a confronting loss to identity & status. Admittedly, the vast majority of my peers have never had to experience such a strange-+-isolating ordeal, at least to such an extreme & extensive extent, so I was acutely aware of the sheer discrepancy our lives during our (intended) prime, youthful years.
North Queensland, Australia
Two years post the last stroke
(the specific amount of maximum time that knowledgable neurologists in London stated would be the maximum rehab I would need to get back to my old self - initially set at just six months - it still hasn't gotten to that point, SIX times as long as what was expected/quoted when the second/last brain injury struck)
November 2014
As one can easily imagine, it was utterly confusing, alienating & raw to suddenly lose your cherished sense of self and far more concerning than specifically suffering the 50% of my visual-field loss after Stroke 1 (which has shown to be the main effect queried and fixated on at first surrounding the two strokes when such hasn't bothered me much at all, including the initial years before tenacious neuroplasticity did eventually improve my visual-field span. Fortunately, the (impaired) Kitty-brain swiftly adapted as I made my way around even if people, walls & chairs in my path that were regularly bumped into did not). Furthermore, whenever I did go shopping (always with a kind PA/family member), I had no clue how to express my particular fashion sense that previously had been curated & carefully fine-tuned over the years leading up to strokes (which I was fully conscious of - with my completely-intact frontal lobe - since the moment I was rushed to hospital constantly wondering whose maroon slacks I was wearing *mine*) so was fortunate to have my little sister (above, undoubtedly moments after giving me the green light for the particular outfit I was wearing, she definitely has told me to change countless times since strokes which never was the case before them #lossofkittyidentity) + doting Mother Duck (who both were never asked to provide their advice to an independent Kitty prior to strokes) together by my side to offer their two cents (even when I did not ask for such! So kind hah #incrediblygrateful). Of course, fashion along with one's image have been the least of my daily issues for they're just one minuscule element of abruptly losing your cherished identity & who you are in the world but they do help paint a picture of just how lost my abilities & perhaps more alarming, my soul, had actually become.
The complex effects of stroke for those unfortunate survivors who have suffered drastic brain damage can be confusing & challenging for all involved
"Know that what you're basically asking the person (stroke survivor) to do is, 'hey, become very flexible in how you look at yourself all of a sudden while you're also trying to relearn how to speak'."
Was I to accept such a severe situation I had suddenly found myself in from merely waking up one day at just 26 (only 18 months into my *presumed* fully-developed brain, see below) managing to 'simply' stay alive as my life from here on out or was I to bravely adapt & push forward no matter what the confronting obstacles + criticisms to create a life again worth living? The sheer resilience that was required after two bouts of brain damage (& their harsh effects) could not be found nor given to me; it was up to my tough 'hard-yakka' brain & its tenacious mindset to courageously & continuously fight on - for an indefinite amount of years - to surround myself with only those who genuinely valued and considered me & to find a new way to discover joy together with purpose in my life despite what the fierce fires so harshly scorched in precious neurons all the way back in 2012. When life doesn't go the way you expected it to go, do you succumb to the 'kick' and fall down in epic fashion or do you instead count the kick as rather a 'push' to strive for more, to boost you into focusing on what and who ultimately matter, proving just what you are truly capable of? Despite the plethora of shortcomings over the past decade+, I've also gained a wealth of life experiences that have all helped build a character of substance within that I am incredibly proud of. This certainly is one tough Kitty-egg (à la the resilient-egg analogy above) exerting inner strength so that I can continue on. Essentially, the painful 'kicks' I have experienced caused by two bouts of brain damage & their vast, ongoing ramifications have instead boosted me up so much, I'm now living in my 'turbo mode' of life's 'video game'. Hardouken!
