No Two Strokes Are Alike...Now I Know

 I read and research all things "strokes": causes, signs, genetics, prevention, recovery, new discoveries, rehabilitation. On and on. One book that's been particularly helpful is, "Hope After Stroke" by Tsgoyna Tanzman. This gem contains multitudes for both the caregiver and stroke survivor (don't refer to them as "stroke victims...but survivors"). It's actually been a godsend. Every chapter contains pearls of wisdom on communication-- language for dealing with stroke, exercises, case studies, recovery and the reality that all of the daily work needed to build back the brain--however small-- is significant. And most importantly: no two strokes are the same. Yes, the stroke may be one of two types, and yes, they may hit the same regions of the brain...but just as our brains are different, so too are the individual responses to stroke as are recovery rates from stroke. Stroke doesn't discriminate--it can happen to anyone. This journey will be a marathon, not a sprint. 

I arrived at rehab to sit with him and get the day's events from him. He asked if I could bring him a box of beads and string so he could practice improving his small motor skills. My husband is nothing if not a perfect student! Then Joseph played an entire game of solitaire as I watched, amazed at the focus and determination-- though still a bit wobbly with hand coordination. He finished, sat back and said, Whew that was hard. I know...I know. But wow, what an amazing thing!

The progress Joseph is making is incredible. I've watched and participated in his recovery journey. His rehab center staff are angels--heroes with dedication and inspiration for him with every milestone he achieves.

Yesterday I had to go to the Big Box membership store...alone. Several deep breaths. I wasn't prepared for for any emotion to surface--I'd just left the rehab facility--all was good. Things are progressing. 

It'd been two weeks since I'd really noticed our dog food dwindling, other staples needing replenishment. In the morning, I squeezed in a visit with a group of quilting friends and they shared hugs and well wishes--I needed this connection because so much of my time has been alone, alone...or beside two Thunder Wolves (Great Pyrenees-- they know there's a need for comfort right now-- they won't leave my side). Texting and phone calls from my besties, support from neighbors--all very kind and so very needed.

The store was incredibly busy-- it was after five. I typically don't shop after two, and usually not alone. Joseph and I would tackle these monster store visits with the attitude of: more steps for the day! I don't know what came over me, but I felt a deep sadness creeping in and tears coming on. Uh-oh. All day I'd managed to keep it together, going so far as to declare to my friends: I've decided today is a no crying day! The store, the crowds, the normal routine of my life felt out of sorts to me. And so I cried. A little pity party alone in the pasta aisle. And then I moved on. 

How a Stroke Arrived and Where We Go from Here: One Week Later

Tuesday was a typical morning: coffee, dogs, breakfast. I'm the early riser. I get everything for the day going. Then in strolls Joseph, bleery-eyed, hugs for me, doggie pets, coffee then his breakfast. Except for the breakfast part. I had my head buried in the New York Times. I saw from the corner of my eye he was heading to the bathroom (not unusual!). A moment passed, then suddenly I heard a noise and what sounded like either coughing or gagging. Omg. I got up, walked toward the noise and saw my husband was bent over the toilet, hands on wall a bit wobbly. I asked him to tell me what happened?!...just a gutteral mumble. Dry heaving. Are you choking? Are you flu sick? Want water?  I asked whether he had pain anywhere? Pain on left, pressure on chest? Asked whether he thought he was having a heart attack? (Because you always read about heart attack presentation: pain up left side, maybe smell coffee, pressure in chest...all the things...trying to engage him in this analysis...he is, after all, a trained scientist--surely there's an explanation here.) But seeing his unsteadiness and wondering whether or not he could even comprehend me--I gently touched his back asked him to please get fully on the ground because porcelain was everywhere...what if he passes out, he was using the wall and top of toilet for support and I knew one of these bathroom corners would surely kill him. Clinging to the toilet he slowly and wobbily went down, still gagging. Complaining of dizziness, head spinning. I ran for my phone and called 911. 

The 911 operator (from what I can recall--I was now in survival mode and trying very hard not to go down myself)--was calm, reassuring and offered to stay on the line until help arrived. Meantime I had to gather the dogs to an area and block them--all while still on phone. My hysteria was the dogs' hysteria. I watched, cried, waited. Watched, cried waited. Checked on Joseph...hang on, hang on honey!

Then our local firemen arrived. Oh thank God...please fix him. I assumed he'd had taken a morning med and somehow it was impacting him...please stop the heaving. What do I know? Never, not once did "stroke" enter my mind. I've never seen one, I'm not a doctor. I have friends who have had loved ones who've suffered strokes...but for me personally, this was uncharted territory.

The paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher, I followed them into the ambulance. They were like ma'am, no...you follow us. The fireman stayed with me. I watched, trying to process all of this. I had one million questions and no one here with me. I was terrified.

Off in an ambulance goes my husband who weeks earlier helped shovel a foot of snow off our driveway, who went to the Missouri Botanical Gardens with me to view the Orchid Show, who walks 1-2 miles daily, who hikes, walks the dogs, walks with me, loves to read, solves crossword puzzles, word games, loves Lord of the Rings, loves to watch our favorite shows (some over and over again: Frasier, Doug and Carrie--King of Queens), The Lincoln Lawyer, The West Wing (becuase please Lord take us back to a Martin Sheen administration...) who eats mostly vegan diet, who works hard to take care of himself so as to not leave me...leaving me.

The hospital ER was eerily empty that Tuesday morning, until it wasn't. Chaos. Screaming. My husband. Hey, my husband is here, dammit. I remember bits and pieces of conversations and interactions I was having: tell us what happened right before, how did the morning start, what did he say? My body tremors started to emerge and I was trying 4-7-8 breathing, tried naming all of the things in front of me, trying not to pass out myself. I had no time for this right now! I needed to focus. The dogs...do they have water. Did the coffee pot get turned off. Did I bring his wallet. All of the things. My stomach began to churn, I was fighting getting sick...I could NOT pass out. I waited. Then I rushed to bathroom as a physical response set in.

He was admitted that afternoon. Still suffering from the what I would guess are the post stroke symptoms: dizziness, nausea, trouble moving his head at all. Couldn't tolerate the bright lights, mostly keeping his eyes closed, wasn't really able to even turn his head without nausea. And to top things off--only had one hearing aid in...the other having disappeared somewhere in transport. I have looked everywhere for it. I called ambulance district, "Sorry to bother, but could you ask drivers about missing hearing aid?" Hospital Lost and Found. Our driveway. Nothing.

Day two and the MRI confirmed it: ischemic stroke. Two parts of the brain impacted. His speech slurred, his right side unsteady hand and arm control...up to this point there had been no mention to me of stroke. So at three in the afternoon on the second day, we knew.

Stroke can happen to anyone. 

(...and so do dog emergencies, which occurred when I came came home from the hospital on the third night.) Omg.

One Week After Stroke

He's in rehab. He survived. He's rewiring his brain, body, balance. Everything is moving through him with a child's wonderment...he's a little more Joseph every day. He's such a trooper. Such a good patient. He's my husband of nearly thirty years and we're in this fight together.