The Recovery Tour: Pretext
Posted: Tue May 26, 2009 11:13 am
*Disclaimer* This report only tells the story of why we needed a Recovery Tour
Dear Blaine and I had come to the realization that “October really screwed us over.” What followed October was an interminable winter for us, both literally and metaphorically. But back to October.
As a means of cushioning the blow of the approaching snow-belt winter, we booked a trip to my former “favorite place on Earth;” Lido Key. This was an exciting trip because it was Blaine’s first time on Lido, and I’d been wanting to take him there since we met.
We were to fly out on Monday, October 20th. Sunday morning, I woke excited and sat down at the computer with my morning coffee. www.foxnews.com is what my brain told my hands to type. The only correct characters that showed up were the o and the n. Hmmmmm. I backspaced and typed again. Only the o and n were correct. I backspaced again, and watched my left hand not type what I was telling it to. At that moment, like it was being dipped in lukewarm water and a rate of approximately 1 inch per second, a numbness spread from my left fingertips up to my armpit then started down the left side of my trunk. The left side of my body ceased taking orders from my brain, and I couldn’t move.
“I’m having a stroke!” I said out loud, and realized that the next thing that would happen would probably be that I would fall out of my chair onto my left side. I picked up the portable phone with my right hand and held tight, so that once I hit the ground I could call for help.
But I didn’t fall. (Thank you God) I used the phone to dial my 19 year old daughter sleeping upstairs. “Come down right now,” I told her, and she did. I practice medicine for a living, so when I told her that I was having a stroke, she took me seriously. To my delight, the symptoms completely disappeared in 5 minutes, and I felt fine. We sat, nervously looking at each other, and I convinced us both that I’d just had my first panic attack. I sent her back to bed and jumped in the tub for a soak.
Then the second round started. Second verse, same as the first. I didn’t have the phone anymore, so I sat it out in the tub and about 15 minutes later, was able to stand up and get out. My daughter and I threw some clothes on, stopped at a corner store for Aspirin, and made way to the ER.
My diagnosis was TIA, a “mini-stroke”. The CT of the head showed no major bleed. The ER doc was very unhappy with me for signing out AMA but no one was going to keep me from showing my Blaine around Lido Key! At the time, Lido was my St. John! So I took Aspirin daily and took the risk of having a complete stroke very far from home.
We had a nice trip, but I had lost my self-confidence. Dear Blaine never left me out of his sight, the entire trip. We watched a couple go out to the beach from our balcony one day. A man guided a young-ish woman haltingly out to the water’s edge. “ Oh, how sweet,” Blaine said, and I cried. “What do you think is wrong with her?” he asked. I told him it looked like she’d had a right brain injury or stroke.
We arrived home a week later, with me still feeling very vulnerable and damaged. As I crawled into bed, I found wetness. Pulling back the sheets, I found a fresh DNA deposit! I jumped out of bed and ran to the dresser, pulling open my top drawer. Dear God! It was out of order. Blaine checked a cash hiding place and we’d also been robbed.
I never entered that room again. We bought a new bed the following day and everything from my dresser left the house in black trash bags. Blaine had to re-organize the entire house, so that we could change bedrooms. This violation of our sanctuary left me anxious and unsteady and over the next few months, I settled into a purgatory of depression. I recognized it too late and the docs wanted to try all new meds that took time to prove effective or ineffective. When it seemed Blaine would never have his wife back, he pulled out the trump card. “One week. Wherever you’ll get better.”
As the meds started to kick in, I emerged from the fog, and remembered a place that I’d heard of long ago, in my training. An ER doc was leaving for vacation. He was taking his family to St. John for the month of December. “How in the world can you afford to go away for a month?” I asked. “Cinnamon Bay Campground.” Those words rang in my heart and I decided that someday, I’d camp in paradise. I found you good people, and started to formulate my plan. I studied this forum like it was my job, and my darkness faded to light.
October really screwed us over.
We’re going on our Recovery Tour, to St. John .
Dear Blaine and I had come to the realization that “October really screwed us over.” What followed October was an interminable winter for us, both literally and metaphorically. But back to October.
As a means of cushioning the blow of the approaching snow-belt winter, we booked a trip to my former “favorite place on Earth;” Lido Key. This was an exciting trip because it was Blaine’s first time on Lido, and I’d been wanting to take him there since we met.
We were to fly out on Monday, October 20th. Sunday morning, I woke excited and sat down at the computer with my morning coffee. www.foxnews.com is what my brain told my hands to type. The only correct characters that showed up were the o and the n. Hmmmmm. I backspaced and typed again. Only the o and n were correct. I backspaced again, and watched my left hand not type what I was telling it to. At that moment, like it was being dipped in lukewarm water and a rate of approximately 1 inch per second, a numbness spread from my left fingertips up to my armpit then started down the left side of my trunk. The left side of my body ceased taking orders from my brain, and I couldn’t move.
“I’m having a stroke!” I said out loud, and realized that the next thing that would happen would probably be that I would fall out of my chair onto my left side. I picked up the portable phone with my right hand and held tight, so that once I hit the ground I could call for help.
But I didn’t fall. (Thank you God) I used the phone to dial my 19 year old daughter sleeping upstairs. “Come down right now,” I told her, and she did. I practice medicine for a living, so when I told her that I was having a stroke, she took me seriously. To my delight, the symptoms completely disappeared in 5 minutes, and I felt fine. We sat, nervously looking at each other, and I convinced us both that I’d just had my first panic attack. I sent her back to bed and jumped in the tub for a soak.
Then the second round started. Second verse, same as the first. I didn’t have the phone anymore, so I sat it out in the tub and about 15 minutes later, was able to stand up and get out. My daughter and I threw some clothes on, stopped at a corner store for Aspirin, and made way to the ER.
My diagnosis was TIA, a “mini-stroke”. The CT of the head showed no major bleed. The ER doc was very unhappy with me for signing out AMA but no one was going to keep me from showing my Blaine around Lido Key! At the time, Lido was my St. John! So I took Aspirin daily and took the risk of having a complete stroke very far from home.
We had a nice trip, but I had lost my self-confidence. Dear Blaine never left me out of his sight, the entire trip. We watched a couple go out to the beach from our balcony one day. A man guided a young-ish woman haltingly out to the water’s edge. “ Oh, how sweet,” Blaine said, and I cried. “What do you think is wrong with her?” he asked. I told him it looked like she’d had a right brain injury or stroke.
We arrived home a week later, with me still feeling very vulnerable and damaged. As I crawled into bed, I found wetness. Pulling back the sheets, I found a fresh DNA deposit! I jumped out of bed and ran to the dresser, pulling open my top drawer. Dear God! It was out of order. Blaine checked a cash hiding place and we’d also been robbed.
I never entered that room again. We bought a new bed the following day and everything from my dresser left the house in black trash bags. Blaine had to re-organize the entire house, so that we could change bedrooms. This violation of our sanctuary left me anxious and unsteady and over the next few months, I settled into a purgatory of depression. I recognized it too late and the docs wanted to try all new meds that took time to prove effective or ineffective. When it seemed Blaine would never have his wife back, he pulled out the trump card. “One week. Wherever you’ll get better.”
As the meds started to kick in, I emerged from the fog, and remembered a place that I’d heard of long ago, in my training. An ER doc was leaving for vacation. He was taking his family to St. John for the month of December. “How in the world can you afford to go away for a month?” I asked. “Cinnamon Bay Campground.” Those words rang in my heart and I decided that someday, I’d camp in paradise. I found you good people, and started to formulate my plan. I studied this forum like it was my job, and my darkness faded to light.
October really screwed us over.
We’re going on our Recovery Tour, to St. John .
- words can't describe what I just read - praying you are fine now.
