--How do you know when date night is over?
--When your wife comes downstairs dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and tries to talk to you but her speech is so slurred that you can't understand her and you realize half her face is totally drooping.
Ok, it's not funny.
I know.
But sometimes a scary reality is best smothered in humor so that it can be told without abject fear piercing through it.
(I think this technique only works if you yourself are the subject of the situation. That Friday night, I was the subject, so I'm going to use my "humor deflection" whenever I feel I want or need to. So there.)
The younger two kids were at their cousin's birthday party overnight and Barrett and I were enjoying a glass of wine with our neighbor and my mother-in-law. My 16 year old had joined us and we were chatting (actually, THEY were fiercely debating and I was looking on with some amusement) about politics and the application of the Constitution. When we had solved the world's problems Bennett left for the homecoming game and the adults finished their glasses and headed home. Barrett and I realized that we had the house to ourselves for a few hours. This NEVER happens, so we decided to go out back and relax in the hot tub for a while. We looked at the stars and chatted about life until we were hungry and came back inside. I went upstairs to change out of my wet suit while Barrett stayed in the kitchen.
Upstairs I sat on the bed and started to scroll through the emails on my phone. I had a bunch of junk I needed to delete, and I started checking the ones I wanted to move to the trash. As I was doing this I realized that I felt really really tired. The kind of tired where I wasn't sure mu eyes were totally open and my body just sort of wanted to sink down into itself. (You know when you wake up in the middle of hte night...but you're not totally awake and you try to wake up some more but your body literally pulls you back down into sleep? That kind of tired.) I also got hot. Not "on fire" hot...but definately hotter than I was in the hot tub. I pushed myself up to sitting straight and realized my throat felt weird too--as if it was catching on itself. This all happened in an instant, and I was still trying to focus on the emails. Next I realized that I was having trouble tapping the screen with my right hand. My left was working fine, but I couldn't get the fingers on the right side to touch the phone correctly. I transferred the phone to my right hand, and then lost the ability to even hold it.
As I watched my phone fall quietly to the carpet I finally became aware enough to know something was really wrong. I did a mental "systems-check" and ascertained that the right side of my body was very numb and heavy, but the left side felt ok. I pushed up to standing, and while my right leg felt utterly numb and dead, it held me. It even listened to me when I told it to walk to the bathroom. Once I caught the first glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror I knew for certain what was happening. The right side of my face looked a couple inches lower then the left. My eye was sagging, my mouth was sagging....it was pretty obvious. Still, I dutifully went through the steps I remembered from nursing school: try to smile: only one side of the mouth goes up. Stick out your tongue: it deviated far to the side.
I was having a stroke.
I never doubted or questioned it. Instead my practicality took over. It was time to go to the ER, and one couldn't do that in one's bathing suit. I quickly changed into jeans a a t-shirt. I remember I had trouble with the button on the jeans, but I used my left hand to pick up my phone and stuff it in my pocket and grab a pair of shoes. I don't remember walking down the stairs, but I do remember Barrett's face when I walked into the den. He looked up from his phone totally confused at my appearance. He asked me something along the lines of, "Is everything ok?" I tried to answer him, but just weird sounds came out. I had to super slowly and carefully articulate the words, "I think I need to go...." and he finished for me, "To the hospital? Do we need to go to the hospital?" I nodded yes, and sat down on the floor to put on my shoes. Barrett raced upstairs to change.
From the floor I called Barrett's uncle who lives a few houses up. He's a physician and, at this point, some doubt was creeping in. I was starting to think that maybe I was just crazy and I wanted "professional confirmation" that this was really happening and that this is what it was. He answered and I managed to ask him where he was. He said he was out at his farm and asked what was wrong. I tried to tell him about my symptoms...that I couldn't feel the right side of my body and that my face was drooping and that I was having trouble talking (duh!)...but I'm not sure how much he caught of that. His reply was simply that he would meet us at the hospital.
I walked into the garage and grabbed my purse from my car and got into Barrett's truck. I remmeber thinking how weird my mouth tasted...so I grabbed a piece of gum so that my breath wouldn't be bad. We had some trouble figuring out which entrance to go into at the hospital, and when we finally found the right door Barrett rushed ahead of me to the admitting desk. I don't know what he said, but when I got up there they had a paper ready for me to sign. I couldn't hold the pen very well, but I scrawled something. I handed some lady my license and insurance card, and the next thing I knew there was a wheel chair waiting for me. I remember there was a little boy waiting to be seen: he had a magazine wrapped around his arm and was holding in gingerly. He looked at me in astonishment as they nurses took me in first, and I felt so bad for him...
From that moment on it was a literal whirlwind. A CT showed I had no large bleeding in my brain so it was off to the MRI. That was a little bit harder because the staff wasn't sure what magnetic power they could use on me due to a little plug I have in my heart. I remember the nurse and I googling it, I and was thinking---"this can't be OK!" I remember asking Barrett to call the hospital in Kansas City where I'd had my surgery and having them verify it. All this time my speech was getting better, then getting worse. Better, then worse. Nurses and doctors were circling my bed (as well as a couple of EMT students learning to start IV's!).
I finally made it into the MRI. Once I was convinced that nobody had gotten the power wrong and that little metal plug wasn't going to come forcefully shooting out of my chest, I had a chance to think about what was going on. I'd like to believe that any medical professional who could have access to my thoughts during that 20 minutes in the loud metal tube would have been utterly impressed with my reason and logic. I'd LIKE to believe...
I am not a candidate for a stroke...I'm young(ish) and a runner. I eat pretty well and don't smoke...and my blood doesn't have the propensity to clot too much. I take aspirin every day! I have been having a lot of migraines lately though. Those might be from little clots. Hey...maybe this is a screwy migraine. One of those hemipeligic ones I've learned about. That can totally mimic a stroke. And that would probably be caused by a vasospasam...which could tighten and loosen...which could be the reason my speech is waxing and waning! There! Diagnosis complete! Who needs the hospital??!
As I exited the MRI room there was a new person standing there. Wearing a long white coat and looking very official, she greeted me and introduced herself as a neurologist. I said "hello" and realized my speech was good again. As she walked back to the ER next to my wheelchair I explained what my certain diagnosis was, and how even though it wasn't a great experience to have it was way better than a stroke.
The doctor was strangely silent as I got back into my ER bed and she pulled up some MRI images on a screen.
"Look here," she said, pointing to a bright white line in an otherwise darkish area of the left hemisphere of my brain. "You've had a stroke."
She continued talking about the pros and cons of starting TPA (a clot-buster commonly used to treat acute strokes) but I don't think I really heard her. I nodded appropriately and let her perform another stroke-scale evaluation, but wasn't really able to engage in what was happening. Then she said something about needing to consult with someone and stepped out.
At this point Barrett's uncle looked at me and said, "Can I please call your dad now?"
And Barrett said, "Can I please text your Bible Study and ask them to pray now?"
"Yes."
The doctor came back in and I asked her if there was anything I needed to be on the alert for when I went home. She stared at me slightly incredulously.
"I'm not letting you go home. You just had an acute stroke!"
From there the whirlwind turned into a tornadic frenzy of activity... there were more tests that night and the next morning then I can remember. I was moved into another room with people who did neuro checks every 30 minutes. The decision was made to transfer me to Kansas City to the hospital where I'd had my heart procedure done 5 years prior. They had a Level One Stroke Team and were able to do additional testing if needed, plus they were familiar with my heart device. The next day around noon I was bundled into an ambulance and carted north. I asked the driver to PLEASE abstain from lights and sirens....I was already past my limit of drama that day...and he agreed.
I spent the next four days in the KU hospital with an amazing team caring for me. My dad and step mom met us in KC, and my dad's experience as a critical care pulmonologist helped ease our minds as we tried to figure out what was happening. I had just about every possible test invented...and a few I suspect where created just for me!
Over and over I heard from the doctors, "You're not our typical stroke patient! Your heart/arteries/clotting factors/vessels/cerebrospinal fluid/blood tests/blood pressure/cholesterol look amazing!"
Lovely compliments certainly--it's not every day ones cerebrospinal fluid is compared to "champagne"! However, it left us with no good answers. There is a possibility that my stroke was caused by a migraine...that's happened in rare cases. That doesn't mean it WAS a migraine unfortunately...it just means that certain kind of migraines actually cut off blood supply to the brain by means of a micro-clot or a severe vasospasm, causing an acute stroke.
So, by diagnosis of exclusion, we can say that my stroke was either caused by a migraine or it was cryptogenic (of unknown origin). Either way we treat it...with blood thinners and migraine-preventatives.
Will it happen again? Maybe. Maybe not. Only God knows what's in store for me. But, considering how well He worked out the details and every facet of my experience last time...I know He's there and will take care of me no matter what happens. For now it's enough to keep on moving forward...to keep living.
Once again I was given a gift of changed perspective without anything too horrible happening. I have friends who have gotten testing done because of what happened to me. I have reordered my priorities. I have remembered how to be humble enough to accept help. I have learned to slow down and just be present.
God's done a beautiful job of restoring me. I have a few struggles which are gradually disappearing, and I believe I will be all I need to be soon. I have had a lot of people ask me if I'm mad...or if I'm asking Him, "Why?", or if I'm scared. Truthfully? I don't understand why it happened, but I'm not angry about it. It just DID. God didn't cause it, but He certainly helped me through it..and I feel a huge sense of thankfulness for that. Am I scared it's going to happen again? Well, I don't really WANT it to, so I'll do what I can to prevent it. But...I might get hit by a car tomorrow. Or a meteorite. Or worse...something could happen to my family. If I really deeply considered and focused on all the things that COULD happen I wouldn't be able to leave my bed in the morning. So I don't obsess. I just remember that what's going to happen is going to happen: I pray for protection for my friends and family, and I do what I can to keep all of us healthy.
So forgive my bad joke at the beginning. I could blame the stroke for my altered sense of humor, but that would just be lying: it's always been off! However, I am totally going to pull the "stroke card" next time I can't remember some one's name, or birthday, or commitment I made, or when I forget to bring something. Good can come from anything you know...we just need to see it.
(view from my hospital window in KC)
