I Had A Stroke
I'm 21 years old.
That alone is hard enough to believe, having a stroke at 21. But it happened. And happens to other people, too.
I don't know what happened and I don't think we ever will. One day, my neck hurt. The next day, a typical Wednesday night, while playing cards with my brother, I all of a sudden had this strange sensation like my hearing was far away, like shouting down a long tunnel. My left ear hurt. I excused myself to the bathroom and found myself staggering to get there from the kitchen. I gave it a minute to try and calm myself down and regain control but it wouldn't work. Realizing it wouldn't help, I went back to the kitchen and got a drink, hoping that would help. I couldn't focus on anything my brother was saying; it still sounded so far away.
After I finished my drink and nodded along like I was listening, I must've slipped up in my nodding as I tried to think of what to do. He asked if I was all right and I said yes but I just needed to lay down, as I didn't feel so good. That was the last day of my life.
I went to sleep, not even feeling like I could pull the blankets over me. I felt so heavy. I drifted off to sleep until 6 am, when I suddenly woke feeling ill. I staggered to the bathroom, figuring I was still sick, and threw up in the bathroom. I was tired. I just wanted to go back to bed but I knew throwing up was a serious sign. I went to get my mom and woke her up, telling her how I felt dizzy and sick. I told her about the vomiting and she set up an appointment with the usual doctor. I had to wait until they opened and sat quickly, throwing up in a bucket and generally feeling terrible until it was time to leave.
I suspected a raging ear infection was behind it all, explaining the dizziness and hearing problems, which explains the nausea by extension. The doctor invited students in without asking, didn't check my state for half of things like my nose and mouth, ignored my mom even though she was speaking for me in my nauseous state. The doctor, after insinuating it was really all my fault and drugs, finally saying it must be a virus. He gave me a hyped up dramamine for the dizziness and some kind of nasal spray---again, after not even checking my nose.
I went back in the car and continued throwing up all the way home until at last I was in bed to rest, which I didn't get out of for three days. My mom continued to check on me and make sure I was taking the medicine he proscribed, growing increasingly worried about the slur I had when talking to her. I excused it easily as being sick and tired, but I guess it was worse than I realized. Finally, on Sunday, my mom called the doctor back to tell him I still wasn't better, and he didn't even remember seeing me. After making everyone in the family check my speech and report back to her that it still seemed strange, my mom packed me up in the car and brought me to the emergency room.
I don't remember much except that I needed to hold onto her arm to walk in, as I was so dizzy and clumsy in my walking. There was a lot of sitting around and a lot of tests, I suppose that's regular for the Emergency Room. That night, after sitting around all day having these stupid tests, the doctor said he'd checked out my MRI, which they'd ordered mostly as a precaution, and that's when I heard it for the first time; I had a stroke.
The two arteries in the back of my neck had split and bled internally before clotting on their own. A few pieces of that clot then broke off and blocked parts of my brain. Later that night, I was wheeled to another hospital, Jefferson, in an ambulance. They kept me in intensive care for a few days before moving me to the stroke ward. Because my mom refused to leave my side the whole time, she stayed with me and got a separate room. Just as well, because the standard stroke ward was scary and I don't think I could've done it by myself.
Now I'm home and in rehab and suffering depression for what happened, only ever thinking how fragile life is. The things that I used to do, which I still can do thankfully---there was no real physical problems although I'm not allowed to turn my neck or swim and had to walk with a walker for the first week or so---no longer interest me. I also no longer can feel any positive emotions; only feeling the negative such as fear, anger, and most of all, sadness.
I'm only 21. And in my core, I feel like the person I was, the essence of my being, I died on that fateful night.
That alone is hard enough to believe, having a stroke at 21. But it happened. And happens to other people, too.
I don't know what happened and I don't think we ever will. One day, my neck hurt. The next day, a typical Wednesday night, while playing cards with my brother, I all of a sudden had this strange sensation like my hearing was far away, like shouting down a long tunnel. My left ear hurt. I excused myself to the bathroom and found myself staggering to get there from the kitchen. I gave it a minute to try and calm myself down and regain control but it wouldn't work. Realizing it wouldn't help, I went back to the kitchen and got a drink, hoping that would help. I couldn't focus on anything my brother was saying; it still sounded so far away.
After I finished my drink and nodded along like I was listening, I must've slipped up in my nodding as I tried to think of what to do. He asked if I was all right and I said yes but I just needed to lay down, as I didn't feel so good. That was the last day of my life.
I went to sleep, not even feeling like I could pull the blankets over me. I felt so heavy. I drifted off to sleep until 6 am, when I suddenly woke feeling ill. I staggered to the bathroom, figuring I was still sick, and threw up in the bathroom. I was tired. I just wanted to go back to bed but I knew throwing up was a serious sign. I went to get my mom and woke her up, telling her how I felt dizzy and sick. I told her about the vomiting and she set up an appointment with the usual doctor. I had to wait until they opened and sat quickly, throwing up in a bucket and generally feeling terrible until it was time to leave.
I suspected a raging ear infection was behind it all, explaining the dizziness and hearing problems, which explains the nausea by extension. The doctor invited students in without asking, didn't check my state for half of things like my nose and mouth, ignored my mom even though she was speaking for me in my nauseous state. The doctor, after insinuating it was really all my fault and drugs, finally saying it must be a virus. He gave me a hyped up dramamine for the dizziness and some kind of nasal spray---again, after not even checking my nose.
I went back in the car and continued throwing up all the way home until at last I was in bed to rest, which I didn't get out of for three days. My mom continued to check on me and make sure I was taking the medicine he proscribed, growing increasingly worried about the slur I had when talking to her. I excused it easily as being sick and tired, but I guess it was worse than I realized. Finally, on Sunday, my mom called the doctor back to tell him I still wasn't better, and he didn't even remember seeing me. After making everyone in the family check my speech and report back to her that it still seemed strange, my mom packed me up in the car and brought me to the emergency room.
I don't remember much except that I needed to hold onto her arm to walk in, as I was so dizzy and clumsy in my walking. There was a lot of sitting around and a lot of tests, I suppose that's regular for the Emergency Room. That night, after sitting around all day having these stupid tests, the doctor said he'd checked out my MRI, which they'd ordered mostly as a precaution, and that's when I heard it for the first time; I had a stroke.
The two arteries in the back of my neck had split and bled internally before clotting on their own. A few pieces of that clot then broke off and blocked parts of my brain. Later that night, I was wheeled to another hospital, Jefferson, in an ambulance. They kept me in intensive care for a few days before moving me to the stroke ward. Because my mom refused to leave my side the whole time, she stayed with me and got a separate room. Just as well, because the standard stroke ward was scary and I don't think I could've done it by myself.
Now I'm home and in rehab and suffering depression for what happened, only ever thinking how fragile life is. The things that I used to do, which I still can do thankfully---there was no real physical problems although I'm not allowed to turn my neck or swim and had to walk with a walker for the first week or so---no longer interest me. I also no longer can feel any positive emotions; only feeling the negative such as fear, anger, and most of all, sadness.
I'm only 21. And in my core, I feel like the person I was, the essence of my being, I died on that fateful night.
26-30, T
