Now, I know what you’re thinking, “wow! Her speech and mobility doesn’t seem effected at all!” Well, it wasn’t. I had a silent stroke - no symptoms, no warning, no visible effects. A lot of people have told me they’d prefer a silent stroke - no symptoms! Not so fast…
I remember the stroke. I was changing at the end of our bed to prepare for sleep when I felt like I was hit by a 150mph drive from a golf ball on the upper side of my head. I remember grabbing my head, looking at Pete and saying, “oh shit! This is a weird headache! Damn, it hurts!” He asked me if I wanted to take some for it and I said no. I wasn’t exhibiting any signs of stroke and I didn’t want to inadvertently mask one of I was having one.
Well, let me say this. It was NOT what I was expecting. I was wholly prepared for numbness and weakness down one side of my extremities, a distinct slur in my speech, a crooked smile, and some aura. See, I’ve had migraine with aura since I was 14 (puberty gave me ALL of her lovely gifts) and for forever and a day, every neurologist I’ve seen and MRI I’ve had have said the same thing… hormones. Everything that happened was nothing I was prepared for.
Cassie (I named my stroke Cassie - don’t worry, I’ll get there) really knocked me for a loop. I wasn’t expecting my neurologist to come in to my exam room, door not even fully closed behind him, and say, “you’ve had a stroke”. As simple and clear as he could possibly be, he took every ounce of oxygen from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe while I asked him to clarify himself. He walked up, pointed his finger, touched the top, left side of my head and said, “you had a stroke right here”. The weight of that simple touch could have been a million tons just settling on my chest. I was in shock - not the shock you get when Bath & Body Works sends out their semi-annual coupons, but actual, medical shock. I didn’t blink for quite a while.
He said some more words, called a cardiologist colleague in that moment and referred me to him with the upmost urgency. He said a few more words and then said, “I’m putting you on statins, there will be a lot more tests, and we’ll go from there” as he walked out of the room. I don’t see this doctor for his bedside manner, I see him for his intelligence and skill. I want a barracuda of a doctor that won’t care as much about how bad news lands as he does about fixing it.
My doctor did just that - I received a call within a half hour of leaving his office to schedule two CT scans and that new script. Two hours later, the cardiologist he referred me to was calling ME to set an appointment and fit me in in two days.
I can look at the actions that have happened since the news - the quick testing, meds, and dr appointments - with fear (like, what’s all the hubbub boys) or I can trust in my providers to guide me through this heartbreaking diagnosis.
More to come. I’m tired, and I have to organize my thoughts a bit more intentionally now.
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Today’s Revelation: no matter how hard I try to understand mullets, I just can’t do it. 😁
Good night,
Amy ❤️
