My Stroke Story

September 21, 2015

It was a day I had been anticipating for weeks. It was the Brix Tavern golf tournament. Brix is one of my biggest customers, so the opportunity to rub elbows with a good customer and my bosses was very appealing.

On top of that, it was a Monday off work, so needless to say, it was going to be an awesome day. It could have been described as a Chamber of Commerce weather day: 77 degrees, sunny, with a light breeze. The thought of golfing with business associates and friends had me very excited and happy.

It was a scramble (a team, best-ball event) and we were playing like crap. We were three over par through 16 holes, which is really bad for this type of event. This was the only stress I had all day. That final score won us no prizes at the post tournament lunch. Although, there was one big surprise on the way.

While sitting at the table with what seemed like three pounds of bow tie pasta on my plate, the jabs and ribbing began among the team, recalling our epic fail on the course.

Several minutes into assaulting the carbohydrate cargo on my plate, I noticed the strangest feeling. It was a tingling sensation that started at my toes and migrated to my shoulders. I reached for my shoulder because it kind of tickled, and to my disbelief, it was numb.

I spoke out to the table, “My left arm is numb” to which some concluded I was having a heart attack. “No” I replied. “It feels more like a stroke to me.” Holy shit, and I’m only 50 years old!

Immediately, nearby cells phones began clicking a cacophony of 911 dials. In the distance, I heard the ambulance siren wail. Then it hit me, “They’re coming for me.”

That wasn’t the most horrifying thought. It was the realization that I was surrounded by my business associates. “Please don’t let them see me get loaded into the ambulance right here.” I begged my teammates to get me away from eyes and potential cell phone cameras. Lord knows, I didn’t need to be “trending” on this day.

On each shoulder, there was someone trying to help into a golf cart to meet the medics away from prying eyes. The problem was, I couldn’t stay standing let alone take a single step. I told them to just put me down in the grass. My pulse was racing along with my thoughts. “What is happening here?”

I was completely immobile and helpless. On top of that, I was about to take my first ambulance ride. Finally, I concluded that this day hadn’t turned out to be awesome after all.

Minutes later, the medics began poking, prodding, and analyzing my vital signs. As if I wasn’t even there, they were all talking around me about the fact that “this man” just had a stroke. I sat there thinking, “Hello? I’m right here.”

I remember not being overly worried though. I mean, it was a stroke. Many have lived seemingly normal lives after having them, and I actually felt fine. Besides, emergency care arrived within 15 minutes, which led me believe that odds were good that I would be okay. — Wrong!

After what seemed like hours laying in the grass, I heard the ambulance in reverse beeping to load me up. This is now real and very scary. Nothing I could say or do could change the direction of this day. Before I knew it, I was on the stretcher and loaded into a MetroWest ambulance. Immediately, we started traveling down some dreadfully rough, Washington County roads to Tuality Hospital in Hillsboro. It felt like seven miles of speed bumps. I hoped to somehow survive the ride.

Upon arrival in the ER, I was draped in blankets and prepped for another ride. They told me a Life Flight helicopter as warming up on the helipad nearby. “Wait, what? Life Flight?” I’m not dying, I was telling myself. At least, I hope the fuck not!

I had never been in a helicopter and let’s just say, it wasn’t worth the wait. My stretcher was strapped down and so was I. All the lights were off and by now, it was nearly 7pm. It was dark both outside and in, so there was nothing to see… simply a loud, bumpy, in-the-sky ride to Providence Hospital.

I later came to know that this ride cost me $3300 after insurance paid their portion. And to think, I once bypassed a $300 heli-tour of Vegas and Hoover Dam back in the day. My bad! So when the hellish ride on Space Mountain was complete, I woke in the ICU.

Apparently, I had gone directly into a cat scan and then into surgery where a tube was put in my head to drain the blood that had accumulated as a result of the stroke. “Won’t I need that blood for another day?” I guess not.

The ICU was a 24 hour nightmare! There were tubes and wires coming out of me and going into countless machines that all had different tones and alarms that seemingly never shut off. It’s like I was in the middle of Chuck E. Cheese with nurses all around. This is where cannabis candy saved my ass. Anxiety? Gone. Pain? None. Sleep? Yes… all night long.

Making the candy was a hobby of mine, yet I hadn’t tried the cannabis variety due to company policy. Fortunately, a friend convinced me to try some in the ICU. Holy cow! It accomplished what oxycodone, morphine, or Tylenol couldn’t. Amazingly, this candy-making hobby was paying dividends in ways I could have never imagined.

What followed was a two month stay in the hospital and lots of physical and occupational therapy, which to date, I have not even come close to completing.