The Phone Call No One Wants ...

It was around 8:45 on a Sunday morning.  I'd been up for about 15 minutes ... shuffling through the house.  

Stoney is always up for hours before me on the weekends and regularly goes grocery shopping or to the driving range.  So I wasn't remotely worried about him.  I'd began my usual weekend morning routine, gathering up my transplant meds and a Capri Sun, and snuggling myself into his oversized recliner.  I just turned on the television and was scrolling through the movie channels for something I'd seen a dozen times ... Shaun of the Dead or Clerks or Gone Girl. 

That's when my cellphone rang. 

It wasn't a number I recognized and, for a moment, I almost hit ignore.  While the phone rang, I debated.  I didn't normally get robocalls this early on a Sunday morning .. and so I answered.

It was 911.

Stoney was in the parking lot of Meijer.  His left side was numb.  They were sending an ambulance.  What hospital should they take him to?

That call was the beginning of the scariest 48 hours of my life.  Through everything that happened, from driving to the hospital to walking towards his room in the ER, I kept telling myself that it wasn't bad.  That this was all a misunderstanding.  Sure, he was dizzy ... that happens.  An ear infection can make you dizzy.  Okay, he was numb on his left side ... sciatica nerve can cause leg numbness, right?  I was convinced this was nothing and he'd be home eating lunch by noon and I'd still be going to the four o'clock showing of Steel Magnolias.  This was nothing, right?

Wrong.  This was something.

Stoney had a stroke.  A blood clot broke loose from somewhere, although we don't know where, and caused his symptoms.  Even sitting in that tiny room with two doctors and three nurses present at almost all times, I believed it couldn't possibly be bad.  He's young ... this doesn't happen.  Except it does.  They stood him up to have him walk to the nurses station and back and he couldn't stand or walk without help.  He said it felt like his leg wasn't attached to his body and he couldn't control its movement.   It seemed like every minute we stayed in that little room, the delusion that this was going to be nothing was falling away bit by bit.

There's a drug called TPA that, if given within 3 hours of symptoms, reverses the effects.  They told us the dangers and side effects of the drug ... bottom line is that it causes hemorrhaging in 3% of people ... and if you have a weak spot in the brain?  Well, it can be fatal. 

They told us these warnings as they stood next to his bed preparing the drug.  Stoney was safely within the treatment window.  We both agreed that it was worth the risk ... and so the stroke team at Memorial began the treatment.

TPA is a powerful blood thinner.  Stoney spent 2 days in ICU being carefully monitored.   Aside from terrible (TERRIBLE) bruising, his recovery was swift and nearly total.  The physical therapist said she could detect a slight weakening in his left leg but signed off him returning to his normal life.  He got to come home to all the love and kisses that Buckley and I could give him.  

Then I proceeded to make his life a living hell.

Every time he moved, I would ask, "Are you alright?"  Every time I heard a sound from another room, I would yell, "Are you okay in there?"  Every time I saw a dark bruise on his body, I would worry over it.  I was afraid to wander into another room and fall asleep because he might need me.  I didn't sleep well because I kept waking up to check on him.  I went from being someone who was pretty easy going about life in general ... to being someone who worried about everything.

One of the worst things for Stoney was that his stroke happened days before the biathlon that he'd trained so hard to enter.  His life has changed so much since his bariatric surgery.  He enjoys exercising now.  He golfs and goes biking on the trails near our home and had even recently started running.

He was crushed that he'd missed the biathlon ... and I was crushed that he wanted to run in another.

We don't know what caused the blood clot that caused the stroke ... and that made it even worse for me.  His stroke started on Knight's driving range ... but what if it had happened when he was running?   He trained on the trails and side streets near our home ... sometimes hours before I woke up.  What if that had happened on the trail?  I would've lost him.  The idea of him running literally made my chest ache.  I was miserable ... and so, of course, I didn't want him running ... and, in turn, I was making him miserable.

We talked about it.  I cried.  I wasn't remotely angry at him ... but I was SO angry at his friends that were encouraging him to run.  Then he said something that touched me.  He gently asked when I would feel safe.  Would I feel safe in a month?  Six months?  A year?  He'd just started running and found out he enjoyed it.   He was being patient with me ... but eventually he would want to start running again. 

He knew the answer as well as I did ... never.  I would never feel safe.  And so I thought about it for awhile.  If I was never going to feel safe, I needed to learn to live with a certain amount of worry.

As of now, at least for me, we've found a good balance.  A compromise.  He's always up and going before me.  Sometimes hours before me.  So he put up white board and leaves messages for me.  It's comforting to wake up on a weekend morning and see that he's gone over to Brookhills.  For my part, I try to keep my cell phone with me all the time.  I turn the ringer on before I go to bed each night.

The main thing is that Stoney recovered.   He's healthy and active.  If he had a weakness on his left left when he was discharged, it's gone now.  If you saw him now, you'd never even know he had a stroke.  He plays golf with the guys.  He reseeds the lawn.  Hell, he just bought a power washer and is going to start on projects around the house.

And, yes, eventually he'll run again.   Thankfully, for the moment, I suspect it isn't me that keeps his running shoes in the closet.  It's the oppressive heat and humidity.  But he'll run again ... and I'll be alright with it.

(Edit:  Stoney reminded me of something at lunch.  It's not so much the heat and humidity that has kept him from running.  It's the fact that he recently went golfing with this buddies and was (accidentally) thrown out of a golf cart.  I know ... I know ... you're picturing something out of Jackass.  Yeah, me too ... but I'm assured everyone was sober as a judge when he went ass over teacup. 

In any case, an x-ray showed his ribs weren't cracked or broken, but badly bruised.  Which leads to the funniest part of this side story.  When we were driving home from the ER, Stoney (truly stoned from the pain medication he was just given) turned to me and said, "You know, I don't get you.  I had my stroke at the driving range.  I just fell out of a golf cart and bruised my ribs.  You don't want me to run ... but somehow you're fine with me golfing??"  Sigh ... he's a funny, funny guy.)

Sometimes it's going to make me worry.  But there's got to be a balance.  I want Stoney to live a long, healthy, happy life with me.  And the happy part requires him to do the things he enjoys ... which are the very things that are keeping him healthy ... and keeping him with me. 

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Elton John - Your Song