Patiently waiting....

I mentioned last week that we had skipped church because my Honey was feeling a little under the weather.

More precisely, v e r y, v e r y, t i r e d.

He saw his doctors last Tuesday and discovered that his BP was 90 over 60. His heart rate was 41. No wonder he was tired!

They had already cut his beta blocker dose in half last November but now they have stopped it altogether. They really prefer a heart/stroke patient to be on a beta blocker but not if his heart rate continues to drop!

So this past Monday, making sure the drug had left his system, we returned to the doctor to get a Holter Monitor which is like a little portable electrocardiogram strapped to my Honey's chest with four leads that attach with sticky pads to his body. He wore this for 24 hours and now we just have to see what his heart is up to.

Either it is beating at a rate above 45.... or he's looking at a pacemaker.

We are (not so) patiently waiting.

Breakfast in bed...

My day starts early, usually by 6:00. I have one of the roosters that you see on commercials that sits at the end of my bed and crows when it is still dark out.

My Honey's day starts later, much later. He usually surfaces around 10:00 or so.

But just to keep his meds on schedule, I take him breakfast in bed very morning around 8:00. And it's the same every day, just cause he loves it that way.

Old fashioned raw oats with raisins, banana and milk with some orange juice to wash down the pills.

Then he disappears under the covers and goes right back to sleep!

Now just so you don't think he is spoiled, you should know that unless we were eating in the car on the way to the office (that would ba a lifetime ago, or so it seems) we usually enjoyed our breakfast in bed. I brought breakfast in during the week and my Honey would serve me breakfast in bed on the weekends. He's sweet that way.

Post stroke, that simply isn't possible. But that's OK. I love taking him his breakfast and hearing him say, "mmmmmm, I love oats!" every morning.

Sometimes even the ordinary can be special.

It's been 5 years

Today we celebrate our 5th anniversary.

Five years ago yesterday we had a normal day at the office. A went to the aquatic center and swam 35 laps. We went out for dinner and spent a quiet night at home. A totally unremarkable day.

But all that was about to change.

And our life would never be the same.

Around 2:00 AM on April 7th, I awoke to my husband thrashing around in bed. My first thought was that he was just trying to get comfortable.

But the thrashing continued.

I asked, "Are you ok?"

No response

I asked again.

Still no response.

I turned on the bedside light. A looked at me but would not speak. This was all very confusing. Was he having a dream? Was he disoriented? Was he teasing me?

"A, stop it! What's wrong?"

No response

"Speak to me or I'm calling 911!"

He didn't.

I did.

Within minutes the bedroom was filled with EMT's, police and local volunteer firemen. The room was hardly big enough to hold everyone who responded. The preliminary diagnosis was "cerebral accident" better known as stroke.

We were taken to the nearest hospital at their recommendation even though there is a stroke center within a 45 minute drive. If this were ever to happen again, I would insist that he be taken to the stroke center. However, when in shock one tends to accept what the official protocol. Once at the ER, a CT scan was taken to determine if the stroke was caused by bleeding or a blockage. The test results did not show any bleeding in his brain but because the stroke happened while A slept, we had no idea when it actually occurred. The miracle clot busting drugs, which have a very limited window of opportunity to be administered, could not be used.

After all the testing it was determined that A had an occluded carotid artery which was blocking blood flow to his brain. The medical protocol for someonw with A's medical history is to have a carotid doppler every 5 years. A was only 4 years into that span; had he been given the test, the occlusion would have been discovered, treated and the stroke prevented. Although the artery was later cleared, the damage was done, much of it irreversible.

A spent a week in the hospital and then transferred to a rehab center where he spent another 6 weeks in physical, occupational and speech therapy, followed by continued therapy at home and then outpatient speech therapy at a local college for 2 years. Today A can walk and has become quite adept at using only his left hand. He can speak although he continues to suffer from both apraxia and aphasia, speech disabilities which can make verbal communication chaallenging at best, difficult most of the time and impossible on occasion.

To say our life has changed is an understatement. Nothing is the same. Absolutely nothing, from work to finances to mobility to safety...it just affects everything.

But today we are 5 years post stroke. That is a good thing, a very good thing in light of his medical history.

And we have each other, our family and our faith. Although the future is uncertain, as it is for so many families right now, we do not dwell on what has been lost or what might have been. We choose to focus on what we do have and are thankful for these past 5 years that we have been able to share together.

I lost it....

Sometimes the demands of the day.....even if they are nothing out of the ordinary, nothing earth shaking, nothing traumatic........sometimes it just gets to be too much.

Last week I had one of those days.

We were moving from one timeshare about 8 miles south to a second timeshare. I spent Friday packing our belongings into boxes and suitcases and bags.

My Honey played computer solitaire, as usual.

I loaded the Expedition. Things were snug. My Honey made some remarks about my packing skills...we weren't moving across the country for heavens' sake, just down the road!

We checked out and looked to fill the 3 hours before we could check into our other villa.

So we picked up prescriptions at Walgreens.

Bought a few groceries at Krogers off-island.

Did a walkabout in World Market and Pier One.

Picked out a movie at Blockbuster.

Did a drive-by of the villa to see if by chance it was ready. The door was open and the cleaning crew was working away.

Returned to a church sidewalk sale we had passed on the way in. Found a Gap sweater and capri pants for one of my granddaughters - 50 cents. My Honey found cookies - $1

Stopped at the Harris Teeter to pick up the milk we couldn't have bought earlier. Also found thin crust pizza 2 for 1 so bought that too. Now the car was really full.

Met the cleaning crew at the front door...all was ready! All new tile floors downstairs and new carpet on the stairs and second floor! New drapes! Fresh paint!

Everything was lovely!

So I start to unpack the Expedition. My Honey helps and I try to "arrange" what he will carry with his one good arm and hand so that it is manageable and not breakable should he lose his grip. This exercise is always a little tense since he believes he can carry anything.

We get everything inside and he sets up his computer to play solitaire.

I unpack.

Now this kitchen has a pantry that will hold everything we bring and more. It has five 6-foot long shelves on metal brackets behind two bifold doors. I have unpacked almost all of our stuff when CRASH THUD BANG....the shelf second from the top collapses, spilling its contents over me and onto the floor! I instinctively reach up and hold onto the shelf, trying to balance it and prevent any further damage. It is wedged in tightly. I cannot remove it from the pantry. I cannot replace it since the brackets have all fallen. I can barely hold onto it!

My Honey, sitting ten feet away from me, continues to play solitaire.

I could use a little help here!!!! I yell.

If I weren't so tired from the packing, loading, unloading and unpacking I might have seen some humor at the spectacle of two people with three good hands between them trying to right a fallen shelf. But I didn't. I couldn't. I had just reached the end of my rope of being capable, of being able to handle life, of getting it all done and keeping it all together. We couldn't do anything but push it to the back of the pantry. And then I walked out. All the way to the bathroom. Where I silently screamed. Oh, I am dangerous.

The shelf is still there, wedged perpendicular to the shelf below it.

And there it will stay.

And my Honey is back playing solitaire.

Thursday Thirteen: My Husband, My Hero

 

 
This is the month when giving thanks is on our minds. Having almost lost my husband more than once in the past thirteen years, I am grateful for every single day that he is still with us. He is my hero and here are my top thirteen reasons why.
 
1. He is a survivor. He survived rheumatic fever as an infant, polio as a child, 3 heart attacks before he was 50 and a stroke before he was 60.
 
2. He doesn't know the meaning of "can't." In between his childhood ailments and his adult illnesses, he played baseball, hockey, college and professional football. He even ran the Marine Corp Marathon when he was 40.
 
3. He never, never gives up. No matter what life throws at him, he is always positive. His first words after his stroke were, "I love you." His next sentence, although it took 3 days to compose and several minutes and some coaching to voice, was, "It's going to be alright."
 
4. He is a funny man. He loves to make people laugh. Nowadays he doesn't tell the jokes but he will still appreciate and laugh at yours.
 
5. I came into his life as a package deal, complete with three sons. He has loved them, helped to raise them, disciplined them, guided them, supported them in the good times and not so good times, and has always, always been there for them.
 
6. He is driven. Probably a little too driven at times, but that determination is now what enables him to deal with his disablilites on a daily basis. It's what got him walking after his stroke. It's what got him out on the golf course again with a one-arm golf swing. It's what gets him going every single day.
 
7. He is a supporter to those around him, whether it be me, our children, friends or neighbors, he always encourages those around him to succeed.
 
8. Not a day goes by, probably not more than a couple of hours, that he doesn't tell me how much he loves me and appreciates me.
 
9. He is the designated dishwasher loader/unloader in the family. And if I ask him, he will also do floors :)
 
10. Since his stroke in 2004, he had tried unsuccessfully to read a book - until this summer when he read the New Testament. He worked at it every single day and was as excited as a child who had mastered riding his first bicycle when he finished.
 
11. He loves life. Although much different than it was or than he expected it would ever be, he is content.
 
12. He notices and appreciates the details. Coffee and freshly baked muffins, a drive around the island, a walk on the beach, he takes pleasure in the small things that others often take for granted.
 
13. Last, but not in any way the least, he loves the Lord. And he knows the Lord loves him.