After the call to 911, Dave stayed with me until we could hear the ambulance pull on to our street, then he went downstairs to meet them and help them find our unit. Their sirens were off and their lights were flashing against our closed window blinds. Dave had put Fat Guy in the bathroom so he wouldn’t be in the way. I remember the door slamming as Dave left, then there was complete silence. I felt so alone.
The silence broke when the emergency responders came rushing through our front door. They pounded down the hallway and rushed around to my side of the bed. They took my blood pressure and started asking me questions. I tried to answer but no words would come out of my mouth. All I could do was listen as Dave described what had happened. He told them that I had seemed o.k. when we went to bed, and again when I’d looked at him when he’d gone to the bathroom around 1:30 a.m. and then, a half hour later, my moaning woke him up.
They checked my eyes and although my right eyelids were droopy at least I could see. I watched as I felt one of the paramedics touch my toes. He asked me to wiggle my toes and lift my left leg, and I did. He asked me to do the same with my right leg, and no matter how hard I tried, nothing moved. I was willing my leg and toes to move, and they wouldn’t budge. Next he held both hands and again, no amount of concentration or straining would move anything on my right side.
I heard the voices of several men coming down our hallway. They were bringing in a stretcher. The paramedic who had examined me turned to the new arrivals and he said, “it’s a stroke.” Hearing those confirming words from the paramedic was dreadful. The tears that I had been resisting while they were examining me were coming back. They started deep down in the pit of my stomach, then it was as if my heart was in my throat, it was hard to swallow, and it was so very hard to breath. When I did catch my breath, the tears that came were the biggest I’ve ever cried.
As they were about to take me downstairs, they asked Dave what hospital he wanted them to take me to. We had been in Tennessee for a couple of years and neither of had had to go to a hospital. So, not knowing where to request, and not being told it could make a difference, he told them to take me to the nearest one.
When I was loaded into the ambulance, I was alone with a paramedic because Dave was following us. The paramedic took my left and began to wipe clean an area for an IV in the crook of my elbow. As he did this, I tried to pull my arm away. I struggled and pointed to my right arm and my right hand I couldn’t talk, I was so frustrated! He said he couldn’t put the IV in my right arm, I struggled more with my left arm, I still couldn’t talk and when I tried all that would come out sounded like groaning, mumbling garbage. I pointed again to my right hand and waived my left hand in front of his face. And still, he went for the crook of my left arm. I was so exhausted, I gave up. In addition to being completely paralyzed on my right side, when he was done putting in the IV, he had taken my left arm away from me too. I couldn’t even bend my left arm to wipe my tears.
I am still shocked that this happened to you Colleen.
Although tragic, I look forward to reading more on you story, as I want to know how you are doing and this is also eductional and gives an understanding of what goes on.