I come from as my brother calls ‘good stock’. My health is not something I really worried about in my youth. Going from job to job, pushing my body with lack of sleep, experimenting in areas I should be going, left me in poor condition. The first acknowledgement of issues was when I hurt my knee getting ready for an adult basketbal leaque. That was the first time in my life something like that happened. Did I pay attention……….no.
Stress was taking over, my job security and personal security was at stake. Alot was being thrown at me, with Mom’s sudden death, Dad’s death, multiple moves, divorce, not to mention another marriage and inclusion of 5 more bodies into my life, the death of my only biological daughter, Whitney.
Still I kept going with little time for doctors. Dizziness, high blood pressure, high cholesteral crept into the conversations. I took medicine for all until I felt better then quit or cut back. I worried about the costs of the medicines but mostly I was in denial. After all this only happened to others.
I did not want to admit that my body was begining to fail. That body that had allowed me to play all kinds of sports, activities, drive countless hours, endure the stress of a prebuilt families and the legal and stress results that came with them.
All the while trying to show I had it together but not having a clue.
I continued to get by and when I moved to Jersey and began working there I added more stress to life. The scared feeling of being told I might not have a job, of not having a place to sleep at night and grabbing showers at work either before or after work. Worrying if someone would findout, if I would make too many mistakes and be let go, and of the next crises to occur at home to throw everything out of balance.
I was helped by good people at that time to survive but I still felt the shame of where I had gotten. Early forties, almost broke, married with 4 children and living out of a car.
Still I went on getting a job in an toxic environment just to have one. Pretending every day to be happy.
Then to the job I have now, but still running away from problems, not feeling good enough. Spending months in hotel rooms trying to hide from the failure I felt and still feel.
Which brings me to November 14th 2008. I had taken the day off to get the wife’s cars oil changed and brakes changed. I had walked to the local convenience store to get a cup of coffee and a paper. Sitting on a park bench near the garage I looked at the NY Post feeling fine.
I guess after about a half hour I stood up to throw the coffee cup away and found my right side of my body (arm, hand, hip, thigh, calf, ankle and foot) were not responding. I could drag it but that was about it. The knee slid sideways. My first thought was I had a badly pinched nerve (I have a back nerve problem which of course I never took care of). I sat down and tested the leg. A strange weakness came over those parts and I wondered what the heck was going on.
I tried the walk to the trash can again (about 12ft) and again retreated to my bench. Then a third time, this time almost falling but I made it and threw away that cup. I wasn’t going to be stopped but now a little fear crept in. This was not getting better.
A final 4th try almost landed me on the pavement so I retreated and called my wife. When she showed up all I could do was look at her pathetically. I was scared, afraid and about to cry but as I always do I held it in. She quickly recognized what was wrong and tried to get me to the car but I weighed too much. Fortunately a stranger took my other arm to helped me to the car. Cheryl did not hesitate and took me to the hospital emergency room (I admit I wanted to go home).
They immediatelty started treating me for a stroke and looked for a clot but they were not able to completely say it was a stroke until 2 days later when the final test (an MRI) showed signs of a stroke.
I still cannot get over it. Me a stroke!!
Fortunatley it was mild and within a couple of days I began to gain some use of my right arm. I tell you, you do not know how much you miss being able to write your name until you cannot. Your hand just sits there. You look at it, tell it with your mind what to do but it sits there.
It is a week since the stroke and I have been in reab for 4 days. There is definate improvement but still that weekness and imbalance. That feeling that your legs are something that has been transplated to you from someone else and not part of you your entire life.
Watching your foot drag on the floor, Feel the pain as you try and strengthen your muscles. Feel the confidence of success but then sadness as the therapist takes you through your therapy. Realizing you cannot stand up on your own. That sitting down is a job in itself. Going to the bathroom, washing yourself, brushing your teeth and shaving are chores.
Then you look around and see that almost everyone else around you is worse off. Most are older. They smile at you as you smile at them but there is a sadness and despair in their eyes. You recognize with them. Almost feeling guilty that you are there with them because they seem to be more impaired than you.
There is David who had 3 strokes has been in therapy for 3 weeks and is going home even though I can use my hands better than him (His overall balance is better) and his speach is still impaired. You see one side effect of the stroke is word finding. the ability to quickly find the word you want in a sentence and sometimes involuntarily picking a different one, one you did not want nor does it make sense. It just comes out.
There is Robertta (Bobbie) who is very sad. She hurts can barely use her arms and legs, can talk pretty well but cannot hear. On the first night at dinner she lost a front tooth (she actually pulled it out at the table. I wrapped it up for her. She loves hot chocolate and adds sugar to it). Although she can be gruff if you look close enough you can see the sensative side. The gratefulness to have someone to talk to and you find yourself wanting to help her by being there and not running away out of fear that you will become that.
Then there is Lou, my roomate.
Lou is going on 80 and is a trip. He broke his hip and cannot walk. He is also losing his memory. He will ask you who you are, where he is, how to use the phone and other questions every day. He has told of his service in the navy in the Pacific and even remembers the calibers of the guns that he used. He remembers his captain, his rank, how torpedos work but he cannot remember his room number (or his room mate).
He is confined to his wheel chair and bed with alarms and not allowed to do anything without some one to help him (a nurse). That does not stop Lou. Every night we go through the routine. First he tries getting out of his wheelchair which sets off the alarm. He tells it to shut up and seems annoyed it is there but does not know what it is. The nurse comes in a they argue about what he is doing. Usually he either wants to go bed or to the bathroom. This can last up to 45 minutes. He finally gets in bed and goes to sleep but every couple of hours after that he wakes up moaning that his hip hurts.
He rings for the nurse and they go through ritual usually setting off the bed alarm so I am really awake now. Usually he wants to go to the bathroom so between pain pills, moaning, peeing and complaining another 45 minutes go by. The cycle continues until morning.
The doctors wonder why my blood pressure goes up in the mornings.
Anyway it is not all bad but I worry too much. I worry about losing my job (even though they technically cannot let me go). I worry about Cheryl and her health, the car braking down, the cats and the mess’s at the house I worry about Cissie and her pregnancy and Cheryl W and choices she makes.
They say it can take up to 6 months to recover from this. I cannot imagine.
The only point I want to make here is if you are not taking care of yourself start now. I come from good health stock but here I am at 55 in a wheel chair. It is never too soon and never too late.
