Today's post is not my own. It was published elsewhere and I have permission from the author to post here. I am not linking to maintain a bit of privacy for those involved. It is hoped that spreading the word about the signs of stroke and the results of waiting to seek medical attention will perhaps encourage someone who has the symptoms of stroke to go immediately to a doctor or emergency room.
I was furious. Fearful. Uncertain. Sad. Enraged. Worried. Stressed beyond belief. Emotions warred within me for top billing; it is a miracle I didn't collapse. Mr. kenju had suffered a stroke and he was in denial. He thought he had an inner ear infection, and it was making him dizzy. That was ludicrous.
On the Friday it happened, he went to a movie matinee with a friend. It was a fast-paced film, one with strobe-like action that could make anyone's head spin with a constant barrage of images in rapid-fire progression. He noticed the dizziness upon leaving the theater, but he drove home and went to bed. I was working, doing flowers for a big wedding, and I didn't get home until after 7pm. Finding him in the bed then was a bit odd, but I accepted his excuse - not feeling well. The following morning, as I left for work, he was still in bed. And when I returned that evening, he was there again. He didn't tell me about falling, or how he was having trouble moving or using his right leg. He didn't walk where I could see what was happening. He was hiding it from me.
On Sunday morning, when he didn't get ready to go to Mass, I knew something must be drastically wrong. Mr. kenju did not miss Mass except for very good reasons. I questioned him, but I got very little response about what was really happening to him. Over the next few days, I could do nothing but watch as his condition went downhill at a rapid pace. His arm and hand weren't working well; his attempt to pick up a piece of paper from a table ended with him sliding the paper to the edge so he could get a grip on it. I knew then for certain he'd had a stroke. About that time his speech was showing signs. Slurring nearly every word, he yelled at me when I couldn't understand - and blamed it on my growing deafness.
Every time I suggested calling a doctor or taking him to the ER, he got madder by the minute. His face turned red and he seemed to puff up with anger, and at the time I said it looked like steam was exploding from his ears. I knew that the more uncontrolled he was, the more chance there would be for another stroke, a massive one from which he might never recover. In spite of my raging emotions, I tried very hard to keep him as calm as possible. It was the most difficult thing I've ever done, and I wasn't very successful.
On Monday, he began to talk about going to the hospital, only after he had written the checks due at the end of the month and set our affairs in order. I begged him to go right then, saying that bills could wait; his health was more important. It only made him madder. Finally, on Wednesday, he packed a small bag and I took him to the closest hospital. As soon as they had gathered some information, the testing started. His BP was 245/117, and the ER doc who checked us in said he had never seen anyone with pressure that high.
In the first paragraph, I used the words furious and enraged. Do you know why? Because this was preventable. Mr. kenju had only been to a few doctors over the course of the last 30 years. Dentist, opthalmologist, dermatologist - fine. Internist? No. GP? No. His blood pressure, which we had known was elevated for at least 20 years, was untreated. It is entirely probable that had he been under a doctor's care for all that time, and on medication, he would never have had a stroke - or it would have been a much milder one. Knowing this made me so mad I could have screamed. How dare he put us in this position?! I believe one has a duty to keep his or her health at close to peak, insofar as it is attainable through one's own choices.
He was admitted to the hospital, where he stayed for a total of three weeks (one in the main hospital and two in the rehabilitation section). The doctors had a hard time getting his blood pressure stable. It would seem to level off in a good range, and then spike upward again. That has continued over the course of the entire year, until a short time ago. His doctor has finally hit upon the right combination of medications to keep his pressure at an acceptable, lower level. We pray it stays there. He will have to remain on medications for the rest of his life. The number and type of medicines may change, but there will always be a need for them. That is another point of contention; along with proper diet and exercise, and the need for prudence and moderation in all things. Just recently a doctor told him...."If I had had a stroke like yours, and recovered as well as you have, I'd take 50 pills a day, if I had to." (and not complain, he meant)
The changes are noticeable: a cane, a "heavy" foot, halting steps. But there are other changes not immediately evident, and they are mental and emotional. Anger, impatience, intolerance, memory loss and seeing humor where none exists. It seems that whatever personality traits are most evident in a person will be magnified (for good or bad) afterward. They were most evident in the first few months, and have abated a bit recently. There is a tendency to say whatever pops into his head, no matter if it is tactful or not; he seems able to curb that in public, to some extent, but not at home.
My advice is this; do whatever you can to improve your health so that you don't put your family and loved ones in the position of having to deal with the aftermath of a stroke. It's very unpleasant, and it's expensive (even with insurance); and once you have one - you are always at risk for another.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Live Like You Were Dying
This version cannot be imbedded, but it is worth going to see, even if you saw the movie:
Live Like You Were Dying -- the Bucket List
Monday, May 18, 2009
Clayton's Story
I was touched by this video, which I found at NewLife919 blog. This is a brief glimpse of a very brave young man, who was not afraid to speak from his heart.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Celebrations
One of my relatives refuses to allow his more sensitive offspring to bring up "this is the date of Mom's death," saying that we don't celebrate Negative Holidays.
The sister of one of my older neighbors died recently. Next month will be the anniversary of her birth as well as that of her brother. Her daughter's family will visit my neighbor and they will celebrate the Birthdays of both the deceased woman and her brother, my neighbor, who was not well enough to make a long trip to attend her funeral.
What a very positive way to hold a remembrance: gathering with family, celebrating Birthdays and many, many Memories.
The sister of one of my older neighbors died recently. Next month will be the anniversary of her birth as well as that of her brother. Her daughter's family will visit my neighbor and they will celebrate the Birthdays of both the deceased woman and her brother, my neighbor, who was not well enough to make a long trip to attend her funeral.
What a very positive way to hold a remembrance: gathering with family, celebrating Birthdays and many, many Memories.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Miss Lillian Hugged My Neck
Monday, July 28, 2008, 07:58 AM
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Report from the B.B. King/Willie Nelson concert last night at Chastain Park: Former President Jimmy Carter was in attendance.
"The coolest moment was during Willie’s portion of the show. He’s playing “Georgia On My Mind,” and Carter takes the stage to play harmonica, and does it really well. The crowd went nuts, as you might imagine.”
It was a difficult time for our family, 1973. My husband's sister and her husband died at the hands of strangers in the next county. My mother-in-law collapsed and went to hospital and the rest of us were doing the best we could.
A well-meaning cousin, who had connections at a pharmacy, decided -- in those days of fashionable drugs not yet common on the street -- to give out Valium all around prior to the funeral. We all dutifully swallowed the little yellow pills, oblivious to the possible adverse effects.
Cousin further decided that her brother-in-law, Big Eddie, should drive my husband's father and his three sons and she should also be in the vehicle. In a sedan that's about all that will fit. Sister-in-law and I found ourselves in the funeral procession, me driving, both of us laughing hysterically over the predicament we were in, under the influence of unfamiliar medication.
We managed to behave during the service, which was held outdoors because of the magnitude of the crowd. When the service ended and people were coming by to give sympathic remarks, an older lady whom I did not recognize, with a younger woman in tow, came down the line of family and gave us big hugs and warm wishes in a familiar manner.
As she passed on by, I asked in a loud voice, 'Who WAS that old woman?" and sister-in-law, in an equally loud voice, hissed, "Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! That's the Governor's MOTHER!"
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Report from the B.B. King/Willie Nelson concert last night at Chastain Park: Former President Jimmy Carter was in attendance.
"The coolest moment was during Willie’s portion of the show. He’s playing “Georgia On My Mind,” and Carter takes the stage to play harmonica, and does it really well. The crowd went nuts, as you might imagine.”
It was a difficult time for our family, 1973. My husband's sister and her husband died at the hands of strangers in the next county. My mother-in-law collapsed and went to hospital and the rest of us were doing the best we could.
A well-meaning cousin, who had connections at a pharmacy, decided -- in those days of fashionable drugs not yet common on the street -- to give out Valium all around prior to the funeral. We all dutifully swallowed the little yellow pills, oblivious to the possible adverse effects.
Cousin further decided that her brother-in-law, Big Eddie, should drive my husband's father and his three sons and she should also be in the vehicle. In a sedan that's about all that will fit. Sister-in-law and I found ourselves in the funeral procession, me driving, both of us laughing hysterically over the predicament we were in, under the influence of unfamiliar medication.
We managed to behave during the service, which was held outdoors because of the magnitude of the crowd. When the service ended and people were coming by to give sympathic remarks, an older lady whom I did not recognize, with a younger woman in tow, came down the line of family and gave us big hugs and warm wishes in a familiar manner.
As she passed on by, I asked in a loud voice, 'Who WAS that old woman?" and sister-in-law, in an equally loud voice, hissed, "Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! That's the Governor's MOTHER!"
Saturday, December 29, 2007
For One More Day
Mitch Albom author of 'For One More Day' asked a very profound question: "How would you spend one more day, with someone you loved and lost?"
Sept. 5, 2004
I had a dream today. I took a nap, so sleepy I couldn't stay awake despite a good night's sleep. I first dreamed that a co-worker (Nurse Connie B.) and I were looking though my dead sister-in-law's clothing -- clothing I'd never seen before, in styles later than when she died, and we discussed 'red, white and blue' in her wardrobe. Then the dream changed and Gary was here. We were in the front yard, talking, and then he and I walked away from Lane. He said, "I guess I'd better be getting on, it's about to rain." I put my arm around him and told him I appreciated his coming and he said, "I hope you'll be able to explain it to Dad." Then I woke, crying. Those two sentences were the only words I could remember of the conversation.
Once awake, I went outside, still crying, and there were heavy clouds to the south that were not there before I went to sleep (The storm, Frances, is coming our way.). Three young girls from down the road went by on a four-wheeler. I waved, they waved back. As I watched them pass the front of the house, they looked toward the house and waved again. I was to the north of the front yard behind trees and shrubs --this is a big yard-- and could not see to whom they might be waving. When I went inside, Lane said he had not been outside and did not see nor hear them.
Sept. 5, 2004
I had a dream today. I took a nap, so sleepy I couldn't stay awake despite a good night's sleep. I first dreamed that a co-worker (Nurse Connie B.) and I were looking though my dead sister-in-law's clothing -- clothing I'd never seen before, in styles later than when she died, and we discussed 'red, white and blue' in her wardrobe. Then the dream changed and Gary was here. We were in the front yard, talking, and then he and I walked away from Lane. He said, "I guess I'd better be getting on, it's about to rain." I put my arm around him and told him I appreciated his coming and he said, "I hope you'll be able to explain it to Dad." Then I woke, crying. Those two sentences were the only words I could remember of the conversation.
Once awake, I went outside, still crying, and there were heavy clouds to the south that were not there before I went to sleep (The storm, Frances, is coming our way.). Three young girls from down the road went by on a four-wheeler. I waved, they waved back. As I watched them pass the front of the house, they looked toward the house and waved again. I was to the north of the front yard behind trees and shrubs --this is a big yard-- and could not see to whom they might be waving. When I went inside, Lane said he had not been outside and did not see nor hear them.
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