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At one point I couldn't move or get out of bed or anything. I developed blood clots because I'd been completely inactive. Then they thought - because the pain was so much - I had an infection in the bones, so they gave me pills, which gave me a tummy infection. It's like a French farce.

I feel blessed that I haven't seen or felt real pain to be immune to it. But I am dreading the time it comes. I feel blessed to have everything going fine. My parents' health is good, my brothers are well-settled, I have a great brother-in-law and my own career is doing fine. I hope and pray that I am fit and fine always.

After I got over the terrible pain of having something of mine taken from me, I began to think how bad everybody else must be feeling. It wasn't a nice time.

It was a lovely feeling, dying. I can remember being in the hospital, all wired up to tubes and thinking, 'If only you'd take these tubes out, it feels so nice.' It felt so - it felt like being in a bath of velvet. It was such a nice feeling. Everything felt so soft and floppy, and I wanted to go.

I feel a sense of sadness and joy. Mostly sadness though about what I've experienced and sadness about what others have experienced in reference to the stroke.

The doctor told Phil, my then husband, that my condition was really bad news. They had found an artery tearing and said I could die. They said they could try to patch it up but it could go horribly wrong. It all turned out okay in the end but it was touch and go.

I feel great, the prognosis is excellent.

I had internal bleeding with blood clots on the brain. I was completely blind and deaf. I had a heart attack and a stroke.

I have been blessed with a good, fun, and wonderful life, but I've also seen a whole lot of pain.