I remember a blanket of confusion....how did all of the items that had just a breath before been in my hands, find their way to the floor...Why did my arm suddenly twist of it's own accord? Standing in the middle of my office surrounded by my friends as I lurched to the right, I was able to utter one word...."stroke". Beloved, trusted voices swirled above me....hands took mine. I could feel that prayers were being said; I could not understand the words but I could sense the power and love behind them.
In that moment, I felt the separating of the wheat from the chaff....the cream from the milk....the ego from the id. I could feel the rending...I could see the separation. Every once in awhile, as the EMT's were working on me, transporting me..I would try to make words. When unsuccessful, I would retreat to that place - where my essence was floating....a spectator - watching the vortex that surrounded me - trapped in my head...all my lost words and thoughts....faces....worries that had seemed so pressing moments ago.
Upon arrival at our local hospital, I was rushed into the CT scan, whereupon I left my cocoon of Id to feverishly fight to find the word that I needed above all others...."Claustrophobic!" The son-of-a- gun word remained elusive, and into the tube I went. Once inside, I was greeted by what others might have previously discovered through various chemicals and herbs in the 60's....I could see the colors and shapes of the various tones emitted by the machine. I became one with the Sound, and as it changed tone, color and shape, so did I. Now THAT was some trip.
I never lost consciousness, so I was aware....through a series of early cinema type flickering moving pictures. So many people....words about a clot busting drug... Baby Girl, John, Babiest Girl, SoonToBePeaceCorps Boy...colleagues, YaYa's...tests to gauge whether the clots were breaking up....the shock that the one phrase that hadn't deserted me was one of my most colorful sets of kitchen words, and the fervent prayer that if those were the last words I uttered before I stood in the presence of my Creator, that He/She and I would share a similar sense of humor and irony.
I was to learn later that I had fallen victim to a spray pattern stroke. 9 strokes, affecting both hemispheres of my brain. At fault - free floating bits of a blood clot hanging out on some calcium on my Mitral Valve. My life and way of life saved by a miracle drug.
Through ten days of hospitalization and multiple MRI's, CT scans and a test that required me to swallow a Buick sized camera, I have discovered that my heart function is good, my Cholesterol is low and I am in good health for a "woman of my age"(Thanks Zumba)....save that pesky little Mitral Valve Problem.
Multiple treatments have been discussed - back and forth, until we are back at the beginning determination that a course of blood thinners and 8 weeks of wait and see (I can already tell that I am NOT a natural at that regimen) is the best first approach...hopefully avoiding heart surgery.
Of the many miracles that I have experienced in these 12 days, one of the most surprising is that I rate a Zero on the stroke scale...meaning my deficits are mild and, with time and therapy should resolve. I lose some words, and can't figure out how to pronounce others. I cry.....a lot - over nothing. I suffer crippling anxiety that comes out of nowhere and goes from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye...both (hopefully) temporary effects of the strokes. I can't retain names of new people and some familiar people. I have to walk with a walker - my balance is not so great, my right leg is heavy and that foot now turns out at a 45 degree angle. My right arm and hand are weak and clumsy. I am exhausted most of the time, and require help to do so many things. I can no longer abide Law and Order SVU (Too intense, I think...and hopefully another temporary thing.) My vision has changed, permanently I think...
I am alive. I am home. I have felt the prayers and good wishes from all across the globe. I am humbled by the friends and acquaintances that have offered help in a myriad of ways. I have been buoyed by the visits...and I especially cherish the visits from "My" kids....their hugs and cheerful chatter have been the best medicine of all.
Some friends sat on my sofa last night - Christmas Night - their sons, a couple of my favorite little fellas, in the kitchen, helping Baby Girl frost some treats. As we chatted, the Husband of the pair said "So....what have you learned from all of this?" I had a few obvious answers, but I was left with a feeling that his question will haunt me, as I "unpack" this whole experience, and journey on towards health. As I remember each of the Doctors, Nurses, Aids,and Lab Techs that treated me with such expertise, skill, humor and tender care. As I remember - when I thought perhaps that I might be dying, my only thoughts were of my awareness of the presence and love of the being I call God, and my concern for John, Jake, Katie, and Maggie....my love and thankfulness for them. As I remember how superfluous all those words and worries swirling in the vortex around my essence seemed, as I was in the throes of the strokes....
My colleague....the person I consider my Minister, read a Blessing over me in one of the first days. It resonated so with me, I asked her to make me a copy. I had Babiest read and reread it to me until I could remember the words, and these were the words that I chanted to myself in the hour long specialized MRI in a totally enclosed capsule, during my anxiety attacks while I was waiting for the meds to kick in, during the crying times.....I leave you with these words to ponder, as I will continue to do. I sadly can not give credit to the author - because I have no idea what book it came from (Update: I have found that these words were written by Jan Richardson - look her up - you will be blessed!) - I only know that it gave me the greatest comfort imaginable....."Now the world falls from beneath your feet, all over again, as if the wound were opening for the first time, only now with an ache you recognize as ancient. Here is the time for kindness - your own, to yourself - as you fall, and fall, as you land hard in this layer that lies deeper than you ever imagined you could go. Think of it as a secret room - this space that has opened before you, that has opened inside you, though it may look sharp in every corner and sinister no matter where you turn. Think of it as a hidden chamber in your heart where you can stay as long as you need...where you will find provision you never wanted, but on which your life will now depend. I want to tell you there is treasure even here - that the sharp lines that so match your scars will lead to solace, that this space that feels so foreign will become for you a shelter. So let yourself fall. It will not be the last time, but do not let this be cause for fear. These are the rooms around which your new home will grow - the home of your heart, the home of your life that welcomes you with such completeness, opening and opening and opening itself to you, no part of you turned away."
