The Stroke

The Stroke-I never, seriously, thought about writing about this as I didn't
see much point in it about and it would just conjure up some painful
memories.
However, one day, the thought came to me that I should write down as much as
I remember about when I initially had the stroke in case I ever want to
write a book about my experiences. Even though the stroke occurred over 30
years ago, I can still recall some of the emotions that I went through.

It was July 24, 1983. I was alone with two small children, 4 and 2, because
my husband was working out of town. Around 4 am, I woke up feeling really
dizzy. So dizzy in fact that I had to crawl just to check on the children.
Not knowing what else to do, I phoned the hospital. I mentioned that I had a
bad sunburn from being on the beach the day before. I wondered if I had been
silly enough give myself a sunstroke. I was told to take a cool bath. So
there I was. Sitting in a cool bath at 4 something in the morning with my
head spinning like a top! That didn't help so I phoned the hospital again
and was told that I had better come in. I called the lady who babysat my
children while l was working. She came and stayed with the children and her
husband drove me to hospital. They admitted me and, even though I was not
able to go back to sleep, it felt wonderful just to lie down as I was so
dizzy.

The next day I spent being poked and prodded and having my blood pressure
taken over and over while they tried to figure out what was wrong with me. I
believe that somebody did mention a stroke but it all went over my head. I
was convinced that there was nothing seriously wrong with me. Even when,
around 4 pm, they decided to send me to Edmonton I wasn't very concerned. I
figured that I would be there for a few days and then come back.

However, in the ambulance on the way to Edmonton it finally dawned on me
that this might be more serious than I had thought. I could feel the
paralysis creeping slowly over my body and, frankly, I was terrified. Just
as we reached the outskirts of Edmonton, I started choking and having
trouble breathing. When we pulled up at the Royal Alexandra Hospital, the
last thing I heard somebody say before I slipped into a coma was, "Hurry up.
Get her inside".

That coma lasted until early in September. Obviously, I don't remember
anything about that time. All I know is that I was on a respirator, had my
stomach cut open (I still have the scar) so they could feed me directly into
my stomach and I was given a 50% chance of surviving. My
memories of when I first came out of the coma are pretty blurry. No doubt, I
was still groggy from the coma. At first I had my days and nights mixed up.
I would sleep all day and cry with pain all night. I must have driven this
nurses, and probably everyone else, bonkers! I really did think that it was
all a bad dream from which I would soon awaken from. Eventually, though, the
pain lessened and my head got clearer. I had to accept that I could no
longer walk or talk and I was being fed through a tube up my nose and into
my stomach. In time, they started feeding me real food. They set me up with
a wheelchair and gave and taught me how to use a speech board. (The one I
have now is a copy of that one) The doctor said I would learn to walk and
talk again which I was determined to do. My son turned 5 while I was still there
so we had his birthday in my hospital room. While I was in Edmonton, my
husband was driving, with 2 small children, from Cold Lake every weekend.
One memory I have is that, one time when they were making my bed, I was
sitting in the hall. The elevator opened and out came my husband and
children.

On November 25, three days before my daughter's third birthday, I was sent
back to Cold Lake to be closer to family and friends. I settled into a
routine of having my husband and children visit every evening. On weekends,
my husband would take me home and look after me himself. Much nicer than
being alone in Edmonton all the time. One thing I remember is the cook
making ice cream sundaes for me. I had lost a lot of weight (at one time I
was 80 pounds ) so they were trying to fatten me up. This lasted until April
of 1984 when I was sent to the Glenrose Hospital for more therapy. That is
when things went wonky. At least from a human perspective. Probably not from
God's.

Despite the trauma I went through, I do see God's hands in a couple of ways.
First, by me not going into the coma right away. I don't even want to think
what would have happened if I had gone into the coma right away when I was
alone with two small children. Secondly, I believe that God had a lot to do
with me living at all. The doctor told my husband that one reason I survived
was because my heart and lungs were so strong from all the exercising that I
was doing at the time. It was only maybe 6 months before that I got the urge
to get into shape so I think God was preparing me for what lay ahead.