As I reach for a handful of cereal, it feels like a monumental task. I pinch the flakes and remind myself, “Bring them to your mouth, not your ear.” Success! It may appear to an observer that I am merely slow or uncoordinated, but inside, I’m engaged in a complex mental process to accomplish this simple act. This is my new reality, and honestly, I’m frustrated with it.
A Typical Sunday Gone Awry
I had planned an active Sunday: a quick visit to the office, followed by some rock climbing with friends, and a short business trip to Los Angeles. I was on my way that morning, just filling up on gas and picking up a prescription, when I suddenly felt dizzy. Sensing something was off, I pulled over and called my husband, Tom, to let him know my location. At that moment, I realized I was losing control of my hands and arms.
In a moment of clarity, I managed to dial 911, but the operator struggled to understand me. Frustration mounted as I shouted, convinced I was merely experiencing a panic attack. However, I couldn’t feel the right side of my body, and this was different. When the paramedics arrived, they checked my vitals and reassured me everything seemed fine. But I knew better; I wasn’t okay.
Tom drove me to the ER, and as chaos ensued around me, I was whisked in for tests. A family friend working there recognized me and acted quickly, calling the stroke team. I underwent an MRI, answering questions like the date and who the president was—questions that felt excruciatingly difficult. The initial diagnosis was a severe migraine, which sounded better than a stroke. But then a neurologist discovered a blood clot in my basilar artery, and everything changed.
Understanding the Gravity of My Situation
The flood of messages from friends and acquaintances filled my phone. My post about the stroke garnered an unexpected amount of attention—obviously, this was serious. The neuro resident, whom I had dubbed “excited doctor,” shared that the stroke was in my cerebellum, an area of the brain crucial for coordination. He showed me images of my brain and the clot, explaining how this explained my symptoms. I made a joke about sharing my MRI on social media like an ultrasound—look at my lovely brain and that little worm of a stroke!
Despite the alarming situation, I felt mentally alert. Yet, I couldn’t overlook the fact that I had suffered a stroke at a young age with no apparent risk factors. I hadn’t started Googling yet, but I knew I should pay attention.
Listening to My Body
Having spent years in the fast-paced world of tech startups, I had conditioned myself to brush off setbacks. But this experience was a wake-up call. I needed to heed the warnings from my body and others; I couldn’t ignore serious issues any longer. My health was at stake, and I had to confront it head-on.
Finding Faith in the Uncertain
That first night in the hospital, I admitted to Tom that I feared sleeping—I might not wake up. I had sent a message to someone I trusted, ensuring my children would be taken care of. I was deeply concerned about my daughters and what would happen if I didn’t survive. But amidst this fear, Tom offered surprising advice: “Have faith that you’ll wake up tomorrow. Have faith that everything will work out.” This was a new perspective for me, who had always relied solely on my own strength.
Embracing Life’s Joys
When my mother offered to bring chocolate to the hospital, I usually would have been cautious. But this time, I said yes to indulgence. I savored every piece and decided to embrace life without moderation. A favorite yoga teacher of mine always says, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.” That resonated with me—I was determined to seek joy in every moment.
Being Present for My Family
While waiting for additional tests, I was reminded of my daughters. I had been so focused on my own struggles that I hadn’t truly considered the impact of my condition on them. This realization encouraged me to be more present in their lives. I reflected on how much I had missed by constantly planning for the future.
I am thankful for the outpouring of support from friends and family during this ordeal, and I owe a great deal to Tom for his unwavering patience and care.
In conclusion, I have learned that life can change in an instant, and it’s important to embrace every moment, trusting that things will unfold as they should.
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