Confessions of a Fugitive Mind
November 12, 2002
Stroke of Luck
I got a phone call while I was out last night. When I came home and redialed the number (which I realized was from back home) I got the Emergency Room at McLaren Regional Medical Center. Now, the last time I got one of those calls was when my father had his heart attack. Luckily I was home for the Fourth of July and was able to rush up to the hospital the moment I heard. This time there was no message.
I called both of my father's phones and go no answer. Then I got a hold of my mother: she was fine but hadn't heard anything. Next I tried calling the Emergency Room several times but their phone system wasn't working properly. I was so frustrated with the error message that I started kicking things in my room. Finally I gave up and called Brenda's cell phone. She was able to tell me that Pa was in the emergency room because he'd had a stroke. It was minor, but they hadn't finished the tests, so she couldn't tell me much of anything. I told her to call me as soon as there was any news or change, no matter what time of day. I then started sobbing, but pulled it together long enough to let my mother know what the situation was and to tell Liz that I wouldn't make it to Pat's birthday drink at the B. I then proceeded to finish the drink I had made and run to the porch crying like a baby.
Within moments I got a call from Sue who filled me in on all of the details: he was still in emergency, she brought him in because he was complaining of tingling and numbness on one side, including his face, they did a CAT scan and found a small blockage on one side, they had him on all kinds of drugs to thin his blood and control his blood pressure which was sky high (240/105), the stroke didn't leave any lasting effects, and that she was worried that he would push her away again like he did after his heart attack. I amaze myself when I'm able to pull myself together from such depths to be strong in a conversation.
From that point, I worried and cried some more, then drank some more. We had planned on drinking too much with Pat, so I just kept with the plan even though it was just me and Sam and my phone watching Monday Night Football. Brenda called me again later to give me the room number. Liz came by to comfort me and did a great job of cheering me up, but it only lasted while she was around. Our drunken stamping party was good for my soul, but I still wanted to grieve. So I did.
I was so upset that I was steps away from going into Sam's room and crawling into his bed and strong arms. He reminds me so much of my father that despite our issues it was incredibly appealing. They're two of the only people that can calm me down with just a smile or kind hand. Instead, I passed out and slept for 10 hours.
I called my dad as soon as I got up and it did wonders to just talk with him. He said he felt fine but sounded less than fine. That, however, can be attributed to the fact that the corner of his mouth and cheek were still a bit numb. So there were some lasting effects, but that seemed to be the extent of it. He was waiting to have an MRI and seemed to think that he'd be out on Wednesday. I'll call again tomorrow to see if anything has changed and just to help break the monotony of the hospital room. I'm doing much better, but my biggest problem is now the guilt I feel for being here instead of there. Its been a fear of mine since I left for school, but its never really been an issue. Luck didn't let the stroke wait until I came home in a few weeks, so now I have some heavy thinking to do.
Posted by criminal at November 12, 2002 11:48 PM
Comments
oh my gosh, sarah, i am sorry to hear about what happened. i hope everything winds up being ok and that you get to see him again real soon.
Posted by: gillian at November 13, 2002 01:49 PM
I hope your father recovers soon. ::hug::
Posted by: Rachel at November 13, 2002 04:44 PM