Waking up in an Algarve villa, a glimpse of azure blue sky through the curtains of my bedroom made me feel relaxed and happy about the beach day that lay ahead.

But as I got up and walked to the bathroom I was struck by intense dizziness and collapsed to the floor, throwing up and passing out. I was drifting in and out of consciousness for around an hour.

Whenever I came to, my mind was so foggy that I couldn’t even call out to my friend Chloe, who was asleep in the bedroom.

Eventually, I remembered I was wearing my smart watch and phoned her on it. She immediately came running and, seeing me collapsed, phoned an ambulance.

In A&E, however, the doctors took one look at me - I was only 23 at the time - and assumed I was just another young person who’d partied too hard on holiday.

They ascribed my inability to walk, difficulty speaking and intense wooziness to a drink spiking incident, or dehydration and heatstroke.

One asked ‘Did you take something?’ and as I tried to answer no - the night before Chloe and I had been for a quiet meal and a few drinks, nothing remotely wild - my voice was weak.

It was only when, hours later, my condition hadn’t improved and I couldn’t even get out of bed unaided that I was taken for a CT and MRI scan.

That’s when the doctor delivered the shocking news: I had suffered a stroke.

The blood flow to a part of my brain had been cut off. At that stage, they didn’t know why.

I was rushed to ICU, hooked up to machines and drips, feeling exhausted, deeply shaken and confused.

Strokes only happen to older people, don’t they? Not 20-somethings having the time of their life on a girls’ holiday. I was fit and healthy and had never had any medical problems before, and there was no family history of stroke. This had come completely out of the blue.

Chloe, 26, a university friend, and I had flown to Portugal in August 2022 for a long weekend at my family’s holiday home.

Having recently graduated with a degree in Spanish and Italian, I was working in my first job in sales, living at home in Surrey but planning a move to London for this new, exciting chapter of my life. This holiday was meant to be a lovely break to recharge our batteries.

I vividly remember sitting on the plane feeling so positive. Nothing could have prepared me for what was to come just two days later.

Over the following days, I learned that the stroke had affected the cerebellum, which is responsible for co-ordination and balance.

As a result, although I wasn’t paralysed and could still eat and drink, my fine motor skills were very poor - I couldn’t make simple movements like holding a pen. I was also wobbly on my feet, with climbing stairs very difficult.

My speech was also affected; I knew what I wanted to say but struggled to form the words as my tongue muscle was so weak.

I spent three weeks in hospital in Portugal, where a multitude of tests still failed to establish the cause of the stroke. In fact, I only learnt the truth a year later.

Tests showed I had a patent foramen ovale - a hole in my heart - which had been there since birth and left me at increased risk of stroke. Although it affects around 25 per cent of the population, for most it doesn’t cause any symptoms or problems.

The unlucky ones, like me, only find out when something does go wrong.

In September 2022, I flew home to the UK. Getting on the plane was emotional, not just because I was scared I might fall ill in the air with no one to help me, but I was also very worried about what lay ahead.

For the next three months, I was cared for at home by my parents, Juliet and Paul, and nurses from a local hospital, which had a neuro-rehab unit. I had regular sessions with a physio, speech therapist and a psychotherapist.

With a lot of effort, I re-learned how to walk properly, and perform day to day tasks like making a cup of tea again. It was tiring and there were days I feared I’d never get back to ‘normal’, but as the weeks passed, things did improve.

My friends and boyfriend Josh visited daily, but even though I was surrounded by people who couldn’t have been more supportive, I had some dark days when I struggled with the trauma and uncertainty about my future.

Five days after returning home, Mum and Dad took me to a local cafe for a brief outing but I was still suffering tremors on my right side, and anxious about falling.

Even now, three years on, I still occasionally have them when I’m overtired after a busy day. Doctors have told me I may always have them from time to time.

I was extremely sensitive to noise and lights; just a few hours out socialising left me fatigued for days, and that can still happen today.

However, what I found even tougher than the physical recovery was the emotional one.

Stuck at home while friends were working, socialising and travelling, I felt like a pause button had been pressed on my adult life, just as it had been getting started.

I’d feel angry and envious, followed by guilt for feeling such resentment towards people who cared for me.

There were times I’d lash out verbally and be very moody, but they were all incredibly patient and understanding. But nobody truly understood what I’d experienced, and I felt very alone.

Thankfully I was able to have sessions with a psychotherapist, and support from a charity called Different Strokes, which helps young stroke survivors like me, also became an essential part of my emotional recovery. I felt less alone seeing my emotions mirrored in other young people.

Around four months after my stroke, I gradually started working again; a few days a week to begin with, and by the eight-month mark I was back full time. It felt good to have that normality again.

I later had keyhole surgery to close the hole in my heart. Though closing a patent foramen ovale does reduce the risk of having another stroke, my risk still remains greater than someone without the condition.

Two years after my stroke I finally moved to London in September 2024, and life is moving forward in the direction I planned, if later than I thought it would.

While outwardly you’d never know what I went through, I still do experience fatigue and have to be mindful of that when planning my work and social life, to avoid crashing with exhaustion.

And emotionally there’s no doubt the stroke has shaped me; it’s something I carry with me every day.

But I remind myself that my experience can give hope to others that recovery - both physical and emotional - is possible.

Find out more about strokes at differentstrokes.co.uk

AS TOLD TO EIMEAR O’HAGAN