Chapter 2: Down the Rabbit Hole

Saturday, Feb. 27, 2010

If you ever want fast attention at the ER, tell them you think you’ve had a stroke. I’ve been to the ER before so I went in assuming I would be sitting for a while. Nope. They had me meet with a nurse who took my blood pressure, asked me to smile (I guess my left side wasn’t working), asked a few questions, and that was it. I was put in a wheel chair and they literally ran down the hall with me. I was taken to a room where they helped me get into one of those lovely hospital gowns as fast as they could and then I was put on a gurney. Again, it was a race down the hall.

Apparently when you have a stroke, they need to diagnose it very quickly to determine whether the stroke is caused by a blood clot (an ischemic stroke) or bleeding into the brain (a hemorrhagic stroke.) Getting the right medicine quickly can mean the difference between a lifelong handicap and a full recovery. Treating the wrong problem can cause death! Thank goodness I didn’t know that while all the commotion was happening. All I could think was: they’re going to fix me.

I ended up getting a CT scan first. Since I got to the hospital quickly after the stroke they kind of hoped to find a blood clot in my brain. There is medicine that can help break up a clot and reduce or even completely avoid damage to the brain—but only if taken within the first few hours.

So, I had my scan and waited for the verdict. After reviewing the scans and talking to a neurosurgeon, the ER doctor came in with the news. Yes, I had experienced a stroke. No, it wasn’t a blood clot. 85% of stoke victims have blood clot strokes, but not me. I had a hemorrhagic stroke. Basically this means that a blood vessel in my brain ruptured and was bleeding. The neurosurgeon said that the rupture was deep in the right side of my brain—too deep to operate without causing permanent brain damage or death. All we could do was wait and hope for the bleeding to stop soon.

Seriously? All we could do is wait?! I burst into tears.

But that wasn’t really all they could do. They could also make sure my blood pressure wasn’t so high that I was making the bleeding worse. I might have been hyperventilating just a bit. I felt like totally freaking out!

They hooked me up to an IV and attached electrode wires all over my body. They put an oxygen tube in my nose. And they wrapped a blood pressure cuff on my arm. I was a mess of wires. They gave me some blood pressure medicine as a precaution. Then the terrible waiting began.

Unbeknownst to me, Larry (husband), out of town in Mexico City, was from time to time getting updates on my condition from his dad (also Larry). Since I last spoke with him on the phone from home he’d cancelled all his commitments and started trying to get home to me. It was late in the afternoon in Mexico but he still hoped that maybe, somehow, he could get home by late tonight. Larry grabbed a colleague with a car to drive him from his meetings back to his hotel. He crammed everything into his suitcase, and raced for the airport, talking non-stop to travel agents, airlines, and private jet companies. He was still looking for his best option when his colleague dropped him at the airport, stranded and feeling as alone as he’d ever been.

Eventually Larry had to accept two pieces of bad news: First, despite all his efforts, he couldn’t get home today. His best option was to take the last flight to the US tonight, flying through Los Angeles with a five hour layover that wouldn’t allow him to get to the hospital until 9am tomorrow. Second, he learned what I hadn’t fully understood. If the bleeding stopped, he’d be holding me in the morning. If it didn’t…

My in-laws were there with me all this time. The nurses came and checked on me and on all the monitors to make sure I wasn’t getting worse. I’m so grateful to Larry and Nancy. They were great help emotionally and asked all the questions that I wanted answered but couldn’t think to ask myself.

I was fully into what I would call my “foggy brain” stage of the stroke—a stage that would last for months. I just couldn’t think well. I had a hard time saying the things I felt hovering in the back of my brain or responding to questions. Verbalizing my fears or needs was difficult. I was starting to feel like I was observing everything, including myself, rather than directly experiencing it all. I was still scared, but a little detached, like it wasn’t real.

I finally thought to have Nancy give me my cell phone to call my mom. Earlier I mentioned that Larry called me at home on the landline. This turned out to be significant. When I was at home gathering the things I needed for the hospital, I grabbed my cell phone; or I thought I did. I actually put our cordless phone in my purse! That didn’t work so well in the hospital.

Actually, it probably was better that I didn’t have my phone. Between my foggy brain and my tendency to cry frequently, talking was difficult. So, I had my father-in-law, Larry, call family. Besides keeping husband Larry informed, he called Tiffany, and all my siblings and Larry’s brothers.

He called Tiffany because he couldn’t get hold of my mom. I hadn’t wanted to worry my kids. What could they do? Kyle was at BYU going to a girl’s choice dance that night and I didn’t want to interrupt that. Devin was at a ballroom competition in Idaho. Larz was in Logan attending Utah State. I thought I was sparing them all needless worry. I should have known that my hubby would call all our kids to let them know what was happening and calm their fears.

Since Kyle was the closest, a few blocks away from the hospital in the dorms at BYU, he showed up quickly having cancelled his date. I felt bad about that. When he arrived, we now had two priesthood holders present. Kyle had recently been ordained an elder before going to college. He gave his first priesthood blessing to his sick mom. It was beautiful and very comforting—and powerful. He was so calm and collected as he gave this blessing; he’d had plenty of experience watching his dad do this at home. What a wonderful experience in the middle of all this uncertainty! Afterwards, I wasn’t as fearful of what was to come.

At the hospital, my sister Cherie arrived as well as my son, Larz, who had driven down from Logan to be with me! I was so grateful and so humbled that everyone would stop their busy lives and run to the hospital. It was just a little stroke, after all (thought my foggy brain). What a wonderful family I have.

After about five hours in the ER room, the doctors finally decided it was safe to move me to an intermediate care room. I was starting to feel like everything might turn out alright (foggy brain) despite having slurred speech, trouble moving my left arm and leg, and difficulty thinking. After all, I’ve got my family and I’m in the hospital where everything gets fixed, right? In my new room, with my new hope, I fell asleep, exhausted, foggy, worried but at peace.

While I slept, Larz spent the night on a chair in my room ready to comfort me. And somewhere far away Larry sat on an airplane in the dark, and later in a cold, deserted LAX airport wondering what he might find when he arrived back home.