1 CVA (not stroke) Some things are perfectly described: Not exactly onomatopoeic, but loaded with just enough woeful association. ‘Cancer’ fills the hearts and minds of even the unafflicted with dread. While the word ‘malodorous’ makes noses wrinkle with disgust while backing away swiftly... Simply having ‘had a stroke’ is way too benign to communicate the wide-ranging, systemic degradation of both faculties and dignity the humbly named ‘stroke’ wrecks on most victims. Mine occurred around 9.15 am on the 24th of April shortly after 41st birthday. My ‘event’ was an almost silent, totally unremarkable pop in my cerebellum that quickly developed into an apocalyptic headache and a concerning numbness crept up my right arm and fingers. I knew I was in deep trouble and staggered into a quiet room to make the call. The kindly operator took my details but insisted I move to landline for clarity and address confirmation where I was given well meaning (but futile) reassurance that something benign was occurring. By the time the ambos rocked up I was vomiting and sweating profusely and massaging my now useless right hand as if I could somehow squeeze co-ordination into it. I was swiftly transferred to my local hospital. in Clayton. While awaiting treatment in emergency bay fielded a call from my concerned wife choosing to lie pointlessly assuring her everything was ok while inside I vividly recalled a future I’d once imagined strapped to a donated wheelchair, hideously contorted silently screaming for oblivion Before the blur and flurry of medical activity consumed me I remember exchanging my ‘business casuals’ for a plain hospital gown. My dehumanisation was complete - from family man with a ‘..fucking lot on this week’ to inpatient 72112211 male, 41, public, unknown with upper right infarct... another sad statistic recounted ad infnitem to bored specialists.