Читать книгу Life After Stroke - Jeff Kagan - Страница 5

The next morning I awoke to the sunrise and the ocean, and a beautiful day on the beach. I had been a little fuzzy yesterday, but today would be better, right? But I was still fuzzy. Hmm. But, I was still happy and pain free. Just confused. What was up?

I didn’t realize it, but my wife had called the front desk to find out where the nearest hospital was. On Hilton Head there was only one hospital. It’s a small island. She made arrangements with Karen Thompson in the executive suite, at the hotel, to watch our kids. Karen has been a friend for years, and she was very nice and helpful.

Deborah then told me she wanted to take me to the hospital to see if something was wrong because I was just not acting right. She wasn’t sure how I would react. I have heard that many stroke sufferers fight the suggestion that something is wrong.

This next sequence may sound contradictory, but I need you to understand how my mind was working. I think by now Deborah knew something was wrong. Not me. I was fine. Just tired, and a little out of it. But I could tell something was not right. So instead of fighting with her, I said, “Sure, let’s go.” She has since told me, when we arrived at the hospital, she quietly told them she thought I had a stroke, or something like that.

I didn’t hear her, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have understood at that point. Stroke? That was just a strange word to me at the time. No meaning.

They rushed me in, and, over the next several hours, tested me. I was out of it. Didn’t really know what was happening. Good thing my wife was with me, looking out for me.

Apparently they told my wife that, yes, I had a stroke. Writing these words brings tears to my eyes as I realize how devastated and alone she must have felt at that moment. And I wasn’t there to hold her and care for her. She was strong and silent, and handled the situation well. I am so proud of her, and admire her strength.

Suddenly things had changed in our relationship: Deborah was now caring for me.

This was the first moment of our “new” life together. She was caring for me. Who would have thought? What did that mean? Not that I would have understood the question at the time. I really didn’t understand what I was doing there, but it was okay that I was there.

By the time we got to the hospital, a whole day had passed since the onset of the stroke. It was way past the first few critical hours, so no treatment was available for me. The damage was done while I slept on the way to the island. Why they wanted me there for the next couple days I cannot say. They ran test after test. I still don’t know what they got from this activity.

I know what I got from it: a huge hospital bill! But that’s another story. I spent the next several days going through many more tests. I had my wife bring my computer the next time she came to visit me so that I could work.

I didn’t realize that I didn’t connect to the Internet or that I was unable to write. I thought I was working. Good thing I didn’t screw up my computer, I guess.

My parents arrived later on that first day at the hospital. Apparently Deborah had called Mom and Dad and they came as fast as they could. They came into my room to say hi and that I looked fine. I was happily working on my computer just like always. They were pleased with that, at least. My mother was left wondering why they came?

Little did anyone know at the time — including me — that I wasn’t even hooked up to the Internet. I thought I was. Who knew?

Over the next few days, my wife, my children, and my parents came to visit me. I guess they all knew I had a stroke. I guess I was the only one in the dark. The doctors did explain it to me, as best as I can recall, before I checked out.

I remember the serious conversation. The tone, but not the words. After the first couple words they all got mixed up. They said lose weight. Watch what I eat. Follow my doctors orders. Take my meds. A whole bunch of things.

I didn’t remember any of it. It was a scary time, but to tell you the truth, it was more confusing than scary for me back then.

Sure, this was all scary for me. But not as bad as you think. After all, my brain was injured. I could not think straight. I could not be scared. However, “scary” was just what Deborah had to deal with, alone.

Her whole life had changed. She was now the chief caretaker. And who knew when my income would end? There were so many scary questions and no answers.

I had purchased a disability insurance policy a long time ago. I paid them every year and had never needed them. Except now, when I needed it most, I learned that this disability plan was for the loss of one or two arms, or one or two legs. Nothing to do with the brain, or stroke. Imagine that!

When you buy these plans, you have to think about what happens if you have something that is not covered. Get a better plan. Once you have a stroke or any condition, it is virtually impossible to change plans, and if you can the price is unaffordable for most.

Back then, I didn’t really understand what the doctors were saying. I didn’t have my own questions yet. And I wouldn’t have understood the answers anyway, at that point. But I knew I had a stroke. Whatever that meant. I heard the word at least.

I would not know until weeks and months later, but that the little trip to the hospital cost quite a bit. My insurance covered half, but I still had to pay a bill of over $100,000 between the doctors, the tests, and the hospital itself. They all sent separate bills. I had no way of understanding. So I just sent the checks.

Too bad my stroke didn’t affect my ability to write checks! Of course, it was a very nice hospital. But for that kind of money you would think they would at least have had good cable television to watch. Maybe a movie on-demand. Oh, and real food instead of the bland hospital cafeteria food. Not that I really thought about what I was eating, or doing, at the time. But you figure for that kind of dough, they should at least give you a few perks. All in all, I am glad they were there and they did a great job for me.

A few years ago, I went back to visit, and I was an emotional wreck. Of course, I was still in the middle of my recovery, so I take no credit for the tears. I cried a lot in those early years. In fact, I still do cry today, but not as much. I was such a weenie!

The funny thing was, until then, I hadn’t cried in decades. It was a strange new world locked away in here. I cried and felt very strange being at the hospital again. You know that kind of feeling. You know a place. You want to be there, yet you really don’t want to be there. And all with tears flowing. I must have looked like a real case when I went back for a visit.

Glad they didn’t lock me away for good this time. “Ah, you got away last time, but this time we gotcha!” But they were nice.

When I checked out of the hospital, with my wife by my side, it was near lunchtime on a Wednesday, and thought we would have the rest of the week to vacation. However, when I got back to the hotel I didn’t want to leave the room. I felt safe there. I wanted to sit on the couch. But, we talked about it and decided to pack up and go home.

Bye-bye Hilton Head. Hello new life.