Some might say my journey began October 31, 1973 (the day I was born.) And although some would say our journeys begin at conception, I believe my journey really began on May 31, 2009 (35 years and 7 months after I was born.)
On Saturday, May 30th I was starting to feel a little better, after fighting whooping-cough for several weeks. Dave (my fiance) and I went to sleep around 10 p.m.. I remember being woken up by Dave going in to the bathroom, the alarm clock read 1:34 a.m. (it was Sunday, May 31st). I fell right back to sleep.
Then, I heard moaning. And more moaning… and I realized that I was moaning, and I was in pain. I was lying on my right side and my left eye opened first, followed slowly by my right eye. I was facing toward the middle of the bed. My left hand was holding the left side of my neck and there was so much pressure, I could feel my pulse pounding beneath my hand, it hurt and was waking me up.
I was staring at Dave’s back. I tried to stop moaning, I tried to talk, and I couldn’t, I felt so much panic. Dave asked, “what’s going on, did you have a bad dream?” Again, more moaning. Our English Bulldog (Fat Guy) was on the bed confused by what was happening to me, curious, trying to figure things out. I felt like I needed to roll on my back. That didn’t work out too well when my right arm and leg didn’t move with the rest of my body. As I rolled, I wound up in an awkward arched position. I looked up at the clock and it was 2:06 a.m..
Dave woke up enough to realize something was wrong. he got up and turned the light on and came over to my side of the bed. He turned the lamp on beside me, he tried to help me sit up but my right side didn’t move. I was able to move my left leg to the floor and I could feel his hands on my right leg, pulling it around to be beside my left leg. Then I could feel carpet sliding under my right foot. Next Dave took hold of my right shoulder and again, I could feel his touch on my arm but my body was not responding as he pulled to help me sit on the side of the bed. He let go of me for a moment to grab paper and pen. I was trying to use my left arm and leg to hold myself up and I could feel myself leaning out of control to my right. Then he was back in front of me. Grabbing me, holding me back up, he had a pen for me to try and write with and I couldn’t do it. All I could do was stare at my right hand as it lay useless by my side. I kept crying and in my mind I was screeming… “Move! I want you to move! Why won’t you just move?”
My mouth felt strange. The right side of my tongue felt thick and numb, my cheek felt like it was drooping toward the floor. Then I felt dool running out of the right side of my mouth and down my face and neck. It felt so gross. I hated that Dave was standing there looking at me in this condition. He helped me lay back on the bed then called 911. I made myself choke down my tears so I could hear him talk.
When I heard him say, “it looks like she’s having a stoke,” I realized that I thought he was right.
This page has the following sub pages.
It’s early in the morning and I have read your story one more time. It’s not that it gets easier, but in some weird way I feel closer to you, as I read, because I know this could not have been an easy thing to do.
I have not been able to put my feelings into words to send to you, but I hope you know how I feel. But the most important thing is how you feel. I hope writing your journal will give you strength to grow as strong as you ever were.
You have come so far from when this all first started. If anyone can come through this you can. You have a lot of people who love and care about you and we are all here for you – always.
Love Mom