Why I'm glad I nearly died

When I heard that West Ham football manager Glenn Roeder, 47, had suffered an aneurysm - the swelling of an artery in the brain - I knew exactly what he was going through because I survived one a year and a half ago. Now that I have recovered, in a strange way I feel grateful for the experience. I know that may sound odd, but it has enabled me to see with new eyes. As a photographer, finding a new perspective is like a gift. Since the aneurysm, I have produced the best work of my career.

I am 33, and had never had any health problems before. It came right out of the blue. I had been working hard, travelling a lot and I had just come back from Hong Kong. I was sitting down in my living room, and out of the blue my vision crossed over and everything became blurred.

It happened in a split second. I closed my eyes, opened them again and then rubbed my hands over my eyes. I thought that perhaps I was just tired and jetlagged, and told myself to relax and it would go away.

Then, slowly, my vision went. My senses became muffled and I lost any sense of space and time. It was like being very drunk. Then I realised that my right side was becoming paralysed. I told my arm to reach down and pick up a coffee cup. I thought I had it, but when I looked down my arm was just hanging by my side. What was really odd was that I felt completely calm, no panic at all.

I don't know how long I sat there, but a friend came over to see me. He let himself in, found me and immediately called an ambulance. I have memories of being stretchered down the stairs. It was such a weird feeling - I was aware of what was going on, but I couldn't communicate.

At the hospital, the doctor held up three fingers and asked me how many I could see. I tried to say "three", but the word would not come out. He said: "He's gone beyond this", but my brain was saying: "Hang on, I can do it, I just need time to find the words."

I would try to talk and it sounded fine to me, but people just stared blankly at me. The doctors were vague about what was happening - I heard the word "aneurysm", but I had no idea what it was. I was given a brain scan and an x-ray, which showed a white patch, like a gap in the brain, where the bleeding occurred.

An aneurysm is a ballooning in the wall of the artery in the brain and the pressure of blood flow can force part of a weakened artery to bulge. Often they burst. The actress Sharon Stone suffered one two years ago. I was very lucky it wasn't worse. They said the last person who had suffered this had spent seven months in hospital, whereas I was only in for seven or eight weeks.

During that time I slept an awful lot, and I still felt in this odd, intoxicated world where nothing could touch me. I was given lots of tests, but the only real treatment I received was a saline drip to rehydrate me, as I had been so sick.

I was later told by the doctor that it was quite common for people with an aneurysm to have no symptoms. No one seems to know exactly what causes them, but a contributing factor is high blood pressure, a fatty diet and heavy smoking.

I did smoke, but I don't know if I had high blood pressure. If the aneurysm is detected before it ruptures you can have it removed, but surgery can be more risky than the aneurysm itself, because operating on the brain is so difficult. An aneurysm is diagnosed by an angiogram. In my case, it was decided that the best treatment was none at all, apart from complete rest.

My recovery was quite slow. It took weeks for my speech to return to normal, and in the first week every time I stood up I felt sick and very shaky. My vision took several weeks to stop being blurry, and I felt detached from reality. I know I was very lucky - in severe cases, an aneurysm can cause coma and even death.

It is rather like recovering from a stroke - you have to let the body slowly heal itself. In some cases, there can be a risk of brain damage.

In the first two weeks, I could recognise most people but I had a big problem with names. I would search in my mind, but there was just a void. I couldn't remember things about myself - the man in the bed opposite kept nipping out for a smoke and I remember asking my mother if I smoked.

She said: "No, you don't." It was very clever of her, and I haven't smoked to this day. It took me a long time to get back to normal and feel myself again.

I had retained mobility and my eyesight had gone back to normal, but I still had problems with my memory and I was extremely sleepy.

Another odd side-effect is that my taste buds have changed - I cannot stand the taste of mint, for example. The doctors explained these changes were down to the pressure on the brain from the swelling. What has been fascinating is that once I started to take photographs again my approach was quite different. I worked more slowly, and my eye was drawn to fine details.

I was fascinated by cityscapes and shopping malls, and it was as if I was seeing things for the first time ... the line of a building, the expression on someone's face. It was like being given a fresh pair of eyes. I have a new perspective on the world.

Since my illness, I have been offered several exhibitions and been featured in a national photographic magazine. My work is attracting far more attention than ever before.

It's odd, but I can't look back now and say it was a bad experience - it has changed me a great deal, in that I don't rush at things like I used to. I am much calmer and more focused.

I still fly to different countries taking photographs, and my work is going well. I certainly wouldn't want to go through it again, but in a way it has been a new beginning.

John Dorkings will be exhibiting his latest collection of photographs, Seeing Again, in the Mezzo bar and restaurant from 9 May.