Unbelievably, inexplicably I suffered a small stroke over the weekend.   At age 40.  With no immediate family history.  And no obvious medical condition that was a precursor to it.  It was a weekend where I was hooked up to every machine known to man.  And then 36 hours later I had unbelievably and inexplicably recovered and was released from the hospital.

Since I always try to look on the bright side of things, here’s my funny take on the memorable folks who helped me or helped annoy me.

*On the way to the hospital, I was so disoriented and out of it the paramedics were talking ABOUT me instead of TO me.  “Do you think he’s drunk?  Maybe he’s high?  It’s probably crack.”  I started to chortle a bit – remembering the beauty parlor scene in “Steel Magnolias” where Shelby says, “Don’t talk about me like I’m not even here.” Unfortunately, since I was semi-incoherent and laughing, I looked like a crazy person in the back of the ambulance.  “Yep, it’s probably crack,” beamed the younger paramedic.

*During the worst throws of the mini-stroke, I had wave after wave of unrelenting nausea.  I was also incredibly scared and agitated writhing around in the ER.  In the midst of all this, the patient rep “Mary Sunshine” skips in to see if I’d like some ice chips.   The look I hurtled her way must have been priceless.  She (and her ice chips) backed up very slowly out of the room — as if I were a pit viper about to strike.

*The MRI guy, Victor, was in a huge hurry to join his buddies at happy hour.  He stayed past his shift to squeeze my test in, but let me know he was going out as soon as I was done.  He must have seen the fear in my face because he ended up talking to me for fifteen minutes after my test was over.  “See, that wasn’t so bad,” Victor said.  “See, that wasn’t so bad either,” I replied.   Thanks Victor for not letting me freak out.

*My nurse all weekend was the delightful Maria … a very sassy, no-nonsense woman who was seemingly in charge of the world.  When she asked my medical history, she asked if I used recreational drugs.  I said, “No.  I’m a clean teen.”  She said, “Even crack?”  Part of me wanted to laugh and the other part wanted to bite her head off.  But you don’t mess with Maria.  So I simply answered, “No crack, ma’am.”  We were best friends most of the weekend – especially after I informed her that I, too, was a strong black woman.  I saw her scribble something in my chart after that … come to think of it.  (She’s taking out my IV in the picture.  I’m grimacing.  She’s smiling.  That’s how we roll.)

*In the E.R., random people kept randomly coming in my room all morning.  When the fog lifted and my speech returned, I asked Tina, my E.R. nurse, why I was on display?  She said, “Honey, you’re a 40-year old white male who’s had a possible stroke.  You’re like a unicorn.”  Seems St. Mary’s Hospital is primarily for old folks and, I guess, crack addicts.  I don’t know if I was a bright spot in anyone’s day, but I was certainly prodded and poked by every med student, trainee and nurse’s aid in the joint.

*I had two doctors.  One was a cardiologist and the other was a neurologist.  Both were pleasant and cooly professional.  My first interaction with the cardiologist went a little something like this:

Doc:  “Hello, I’m …”

Me: (interrupting) “Can I please take a shower?”

Doc:  “ … Doctor Mauer, your cardiologist.  And I’ll be …”

Me: (interrupting) “All I want is a shower, doc.  Can I please get unhooked from all these machines and take a five minute shower?”

Doc:  “ … taking care of you.  Yes, you can have a shower.  (Turns to my friend Jill.) Is he on crack?  (Turns back to me.) Now shut up and listen to me.”

Me:  (quiet for the first time since my speech returned in earnest)

Yes, miracles do happen.  I’m living proof.  What could have been a tragic turn of events all turned out just fine. It’s been a long time since I put my faith and my care in someone else’s hands. But when you are struggling to string words together, you sort of have to go with the flow.  I was surprisingly calm all weekend.  Irritated, but calm.  I’ll guarantee God was watching over me.  My fab Great Aunt Mildred died of complications of a stroke over a year ago.  I’ll guarantee she was hovering over the room too.  Mil was my personal guardian angel who kept me sane and serene.

I learned a lot of things over the weekend.  If you have an alleged stroke, always go to the old folks’ hospital.  Also, be nice to everyone in the hospital from the minute you walk in ‘til the minute you walk out.  It works wonders.  And I learned first-hand that hospital food does, indeed, suck.

But the most important lesson I learned?  Never use crack.  Ever.  E-V-E-R.

Popularity: 2% [?]

Tweet

Ever had one of those mornings?  You know where you wake up and say, “Uh-oh – something’s amiss at the Circle K.”  Well, yesterday at this time I knew something was up.  For lack of a better term, I felt weird.  Really weird.

I finally got my butt up and got moving, but everything was in slow motion.  Making some green tea was an ordeal.  Taking a shower took forever.  I couldn’t shake off this fog that had somehow enveloped me.  So I did what any disoriented person would do …  I went on Facebook to read the latest.

It wasn’t until I went to wish my hairstylist Amanda a happy birthday that I realized I couldn’t type at all on my right hand side.  Odd.  (I still managed to wish her a Happy BDay typing with my left hand.  I’m a giver.) When I went to get some more green tea, I tipped over because my right leg kept giving out.

Not a good sign.

Usually, I’m never one to panic.  I’m calm, cool and collected.  I was pretty good up until I left a message on the phone for my friend Jill and heard myself speak.  “Jih, ist Mihhul.  I thnnnk I nee a doctuh.”  I sounded like I was drunk … or from Long Island.  Fortunately, the dispatchers at 911 could translate my babbling.

Things after that get a little fuzzy.   My speech got worse.   The numbness in my right side got worse.  There’s a good 45-minute window where I don’t remember much of anything.  (I apparently argued with a nurse during that time.  Uh, I lost.)

Here’s the weird part … by 12pm, I was back in the land of the living.  My speech came back gradually as did mobility.  I’m still in the hospital and they’re still running tests, but looks like I’m going to live.  (My fingers are crossed.  On both hands.  Just to prove to myself I can do it.)

The docs think I had a Transient Ischemic Attack – known as a “mini-stroke” or “warning stroke”.   Brett Michaels had the exact same thing yesterday too.  We’re TIA buddies.  Today, I’m recovering nicely.   I’m on the mend just like Brett.

If you’re in St. Louis – stop by St. Mary’s and say hello.  I’m bored.  And bring me a cool bandana, will ya’?  I’ll wear it with pride like my TIA buddy.

Popularity: 2% [?]

Tweet