Chapter 8: Blame It On the Brain

I had a hemorrhagic stroke, or as I refer to it, a brain bleed. A vein in my brain ruptured and started to bleed out in my brain. This causes a lot of damage to the brain. And logically, the more you bleed the more damage that happens. I’m told that mine was a moderate bleed.

Looking at the scan, it looked like the size of the bleed was about the width of a quarter. Sometimes I think that’s not too big, not too bad, it could have been worse. Other times, I think, Wow! That was a big chunk of brain I lost.

I had several scans and MRIs throughout this process watching and hoping for the bleeding to stop growing and start diminishing. I was very blessed with this too; the bleeding stopped increasing after the first day.

Then, the therapy started and we focused on my healing, while we waited for the blood to be absorbed into the brain. The doctors needed a picture without the blood blocking the view to see the full damage and if there were more weak veins to be concerned about.

When I looked the pictures of the first scans, I saw a shiny white spot. This was the blood on the brain. When I finally saw my last picture, I saw a big black spot.

I looked at the doctor and said, “This looks like a big hole.” He told me it was a hole. Larry and I looked at each other, and then Larry asked, “Will this get smaller through time?” Unfortunately, no.

Apparently, when blood touches brain, it kills the brain. They had told me that blood kills brain tissue before, but I guess it hadn’t really registered what that meant. It doesn’t just mean I hurt my brain. I have a HOLE in my brain! Literally.

The brain is an amazing thing. I have really come to appreciate my brain. There is SO much that I can and have retrained. New pathways have made connections and I can teach my body to walk again, to move my arm again. I really am awed at all we can learn and relearn.

There are some things that can’t be relearned.

Some memories are gone. Every now and then Larry or one of the kids will bring up a memory that I have no recollection of, none. Usually with memories, a person can tell you things you did, said, experienced and at least a vague memory will come back. You say something like, “Oh, yeah.” or “That sounds familiar.” I do have those, but I also have complete blanks…nothing. Memories and experiences can’t be retrained; they are just gone like I never did those things.

I also struggle with words. The right word eludes me. I feel like I should know this word, but can’t find it. Or I say the wrong word and don’t even realize it. Here’s a couple of examples.

Tiffany calls me on Skype and I want to see the grandbabies. Sadly, they have already gone to bed. I tell her, “You’ll have to reschedule their birthdays so I can see them next time.” Tiffany pauses and says, “Bedtimes?” “What did I say?” Well, they both started with a b.

Another time, I was visiting with a friend and telling I was looking for to Crocodile time. She looked at me really weirdly. You could tell she was trying to figure out what I talking about. Then, she started to chuckle and said, “Christmas time?” “Yes, what did I say?” I don’t even realize I am saying the wrong words! But, after she explained, I had to laugh with her. Crocodile was ridiculous!

I have friends tell me that they do this too. But, I do it all the time now. I feel stupid! No, I feel like I am less. I have lost knowledge that I used to have. I literally can feel that there are things missing. It wasn’t a gradual loss and change that you have as you get older. I’ve felt that in the past and there is a definite difference. It’s a scary feeling, a sad loss.

I don’t want you to think that all I do now is have a pity party! It would be easy to fall into a major funk and I would be lying if I didn’t say I feel those funks from time to time. But, mostly I try to stay focused forward and try to find a light side to life.

So, when I say the wrong word or struggle to say a word that just will not come, I stop and say, “Stroke brain” and smile. My kids having taken to saying, “That’s just Momma’s stroke brain” when they can tell I am feeling down on myself. I am learning to laugh at myself. Another blessing.

When I do stupid things, I now just say, “Blame it on the brain.”