Four years ago, Jason Clarke, a fit young father from Dublin, was left paralysed from the neck down after his ex-girlfriend threw a bottle at his head during an argument on New Year’s Eve.

Mr Clarke, then 31, suffered three strokes and was “a vegetable, to all intents and purposes”, says his family. Doctors wanted to switch off his life support, but his parents refused to let him die.

For three years they sought help from several clinics in Ireland and the United Kingdom, paying more than £100,000 for nine months’ treatment in the Royal Hospital, a specialist neurological centre in Putney, south-west London. Some progress was made, but it was painfully slow. By May last year, Mr Clarke, a physiotherapist himself, still could not stand.

His head had to be supported by a brace, he dribbled constantly and was fed through a tube inserted into his stomach.

Now, after just 10 months’ intensive treatment in a Beijing clinic run by Deng Pufang, the son of China’s late leader, Deng Xiaoping, Mr Clarke’s recovery has been little short of miraculous. This weekend, he is going home to Ireland.

Thanks to the attentions of a personal carer, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, in a clinic with more than 1,000 highly qualified staff to tend to fewer than 350 patients, Mr Clarke can now walk with a stick and feed and wash himself.

Although his speech is still halting, he can make jokes about pretty girls and speaks of his desire to climb the Great Wall in coming months. Top of the list is seeing his nine-year-old son, Simon, from a short-lived earlier marriage. “I really can’t wait to see him, he’s just great,” Mr Clarke said last week. “I’ll be able to play with him again now I’ve got better.”

He has been treated with a blend of eastern and western medicine, and up to 40 intensive therapy sessions a week. The medical costs for his family were just £7,000.

Back home, the family’s insurance company had refused to cover the cost of the Royal Hospital, claiming that Mr Clarke could have received similar treatment in Ireland, something his parents dispute.

In any case, his improvement in Britain was slow when compared with Beijing. “The progress Jason has made here is incredible,” says his mother, Peggy, 63. “We were afraid to wish for it but he is becoming his old self again. China has really shown up our healthcare system.”

Last week, her son was the guest of honour at an Irish embassy party in Beijing, where he clinked glasses of Guinness with diplomats on St Patrick’s Day. The ambassador, Declan Kelleher, praised his “heroic efforts” and gave him a Chinese kite. “Like you, Jason, this kite can soar to great heights,” the ambassador said. As Mr Clarke stood up on his own for the presentation, he was met with thunderous applause.

The inspiration behind the clinic, Deng Pufang, was paralysed from the waist down when thrown from the window of a university dormitory during the Cultural Revolution, after his father was purged.

A powerful figure in China, his clinic is exceptionally well funded but also benefits from a highly qualified, cheap, workforce. “The difference is not just about cost, it’s about attitude to healthcare,” says Seamus Thompson, a family friend and former member of the Irish Wheelchair Association (IWA), who introduced the Clarkes to the clinic. “Here, the patient is at the centre of everything.”

Soon after Mr Clarke arrived, more than 25 specialists from all over China met for a case conference to discuss his treatment.

They devised a rigorous daily programme of physiotherapy, occupational therapy, hydrotherapy, psychotherapy, music therapy, speech therapy, recreational therapy and acupuncture.

Until now, most foreigners have come to China for traditional remedies but Li Jianjun, the head of the clinic, plans to leave at least 10 beds open to patients from Britain and Ireland who have suffered spinal injuries and strokes. “The rates are very reasonable and, as you see with Jason, the results are very good,” he said.

He predicted that other Chinese hospitals would start touting for foreign clients. “On the medical front there is no problem,” Mr Li said. “What we need to get over are some policy issues, such as getting international insurance companies to agree to pay for treatment in China.”

In Beijing, Mr Clarke kept in touch with his family via a computer and video camera set up in his private suite. As his mother cast her mind back to the initial attack, she could scarcely believe that he had come so far.

Her son had been at a party in Dublin with his girlfriend of two years, Jenny. They argued outside a marquee as revellers danced inside. In a rage, she flung a bottle that hit him on the head. He collapsed and when medics tried to revive him, he suffered three big strokes.

His girlfriend was later found guilty of assault and sentenced to 200 hours of community service. She has not visited him since the incident, but according to his mother, Mr Clarke occasionally blurts out her name. Mrs Clarke said he calls out “Jenny” to no one in particular, followed by “I still love her.”

Although the family had full health insurance, the system “failed us miserably”, says Mrs Clarke, who was recovering from breast cancer at the time. Her son was put in a geriatric ward, where a doctor told hospital staff: “If he starts to slip off, do not resuscitate him. It would be inhumane.” Mrs Clarke said: “At that stage we were thinking it was over. We were talking about which of his organs we should donate.”

In desperation, her husband, Frank, who hosts an art show on Irish television, told the doctor: “Just keep him alive or I’ll sue you.”

For weeks Jason Clarke’s lungs and chest quivered and rattled, his eyelids occasionally fluttering. A friend who had studied Chinese massage came to see him, prodding and poking him, pulling his fingers and toes.

“There was this big splutter, and all of a sudden the rattling in his chest stopped,” his mother says. “He started breathing normally for the first time.”

Still, the family was unhappy with his progress and arranged for his transfer to the Royal Hospital, organising fund-raising events and emptying savings accounts to pay for it. After nine months, however, their son was unable even to hold his head up.

Their friend Mr Thompson, who knew China from taking wheelchair-bound Irish tourists to Beijing, recommended that they take their son to Mr Deng’s clinic.

For 20 years, Mr and Mrs Clarke had been prominent fund-raisers for the IWA. “All that time helping them out, we never thought we’d need their help for one of our own,” says Mrs Clarke. As he leaves Beijing, Jason hopes that he will become more independent. “It has been really brilliant here,” he said, smiling broadly. “I can walk again.”

Peter Goff in Beijing