AS the World Trade Center in New York crashed down on September 11, 2001, I was lying in a hospital bed after my first fit.

I had been in the office the morning before, where I was a legal executive, when I started feeling hyperactive and then dizzy.

I went to do some photocopying to give myself a breather, then all I remember is seeing the flashing green light from the copier and then nothing.

I woke up in hospital. When I got home, everyone was asking if I had heard about the Twin Towers. I said that I hadn’t.

This was the start of things to come as I became more ill with what I now know was encephalitis, a rare brain infection that would eventually leave me in a coma and later paralysed.

Over the next few months, I became more erratic and would get incredibly angry for no reason. I felt it was everyone else acting strangely.

I was signed off work because of the fit and diagnosed with epilepsy. Everyone thought the mood swings were psychological and I started going to rehab clinics for bipolar people, which made things worse because I started to think I did have those problems.

At the time, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me. Then one day, when I was 24, and at home with my mum, I started fitting uncontrollably and I didn’t wake up.

I was taken to Broomfield Hospital, in Chelmsford, where I was in a coma for the next three months.

Later, I found my parents, Heather and Peter Bowring, had been told several times they would lose me.

They said everything became a statistic. I had a 30 per cent chance of a surviving the brain biopsy, a low percentage of me surviving at all and high percentage that if I did live, it would be in a vegetative state. All they knew was their little girl was lying there helpless.

When I woke up in hospital it was like an out-of-body experience. I remember being very confused. I tried to speak, but could only grunt at first.

I didn’t recognise my then husband Mick.

After a few days, I remember asking mum who ‘that bloke’ was, because ‘he’s been hanging around a lot’.

I knew something wasn’t right, but I had nothing to compare it to, because I had no memory.

Gradually, with the help of my mum, I looked through photos and I started picking myself out with friends and family, growing up in Maldon and my wedding day. It still felt like it was someone else who had done these things.

Things with Mick got worse and I was angry all the time wanting to know why it had happened to me. I could communicate by then, but it was hard because the love wasn’t there straight away. He had stood by me, hoping I’d get through and then I didn’t remember him. The love I felt I should feel came later, but it didn’t work out. He couldn’t deal with everything that had happened.

Walking came back fairly quickly and I soon stopped needing bars to support me. After a couple of weeks I was walking up stairs and then going outside.

My speech had came back quickly, but I still had to work on my memory.

I started at Banstead centre in Surrey, which deals with young people with brain injuries. Most came from road accidents and they ranged a great deal in their abilities.

I had studied law A-Levels and a qualification from Institute of Legal Executives – a law degree equivalent, to be a legal exec, but all this had all but gone. I started studying computer skills and conveyancing at Banstead. I also found new ways to remember things.

After a year I came home and then moved into a flat in Thundersley.

Headway Essex, in Colchester, had given my parents support while I was ill and then gave me support when I was recovering. I don’t think I could have survived without them.

I started going to Headway Essex to socialise and then I began volunteering. In 2008 I went to the Papworth Trust in Witchard, Basildon, as a patient, then started volunteering and now I am a project worker.

My one regret is not asking my ex-husband why he couldn’t cope with my illness. He passed away a year ago after being diagnosed with epilepsy and suffering a heart attack. We weren’t close friends after everything that happened. It was a tragedy, but when he was diagnosed I think he understood more of what I had been through.

To this day, the doctors don’t know why it happened to me. It could have been a cold, another virus or bacterial infection.

I’m 32 and still struggle. I would never be able to do the job I used to do, but I am happy. I live in a flat with my cat Rosie and love my job working with people.

I used to have such tunnel vision in my life and the smallest things would stress me out. Now I’m different, I don’t worry about small things anymore.

For details on Papworth Trust, in Witchard, Basildon, visit www.papworth.org.uk or call 01268 663221.