Dedicated
to my wife, Weldon, without whom this work would not exist, because without
her, I would not exist.
To my children,
Edwin and Mary Lois, with whom I am well pleased.
Special thanks
to Ann Lewis, who did so much, including read my mind, and to many friends
who have given me help and encouragement, in particular: Jerry Eickhoff,
Bill Edwards, Woody Spackman, and Sue Church.
Preface
Why would anyone not connected
with the medical profession write anything about a stroke? Stroke! --
one of the most feared medical diagnoses, and for good reason. Since my
stroke I have tried to read anything and everything I could find on the
subject. I have been amazed to find so little of a definitive nature about
its prognosis. Many, many books have been written about its types, causes,
diagnosis, therapy, but very very little about its cure -- if any. Many
very competent doctors in many fields answered my pertinent questions
about strokes with an honest "I don't know. We are just at the beginning
of our study of the brain and its many functions." A request I made to
a librarian at a well-known medical library for something on the subject,
as seen from the standpoint of one who has had a stroke, came up empty.
The reason given by the librarian was that the true stroke generally results
in death (stroke is the third highest cause of death) or a state of inability
or lack of desire to write in a lucid manner on any subject. And I am
absolutely certain that only one who has experienced a stroke knows what
goes on in the mind of a person who lies in a state of paralysis begging
for answers to those questions now bedeviling him and getting "I don't
know" for an answer from the most learned in the profession.
Most healthy people who hear
that someone they know has had a stroke almost immediately ask questions
about where he is most seriously affected. Can he walk, talk, move his
hands and arms and fingers? They are interested in those things that healthy
people can observe, see, or hear that are different from the normal. They
are not particularly concerned with what is going on in the mind of the
victim that is vastly different from his normal thought patterns after
a doctor tells him there is nothing more that he can do for him. And I
think this difference should be known -- if possible. Those who are close
to the stroke victim should be far, far better informed about the very
personal things that happen to the victim, physical and certainly mental,
that generally are not known and almost never talked about. And they should
be informed as quickly as possible -- not by trial and error as time goes
on.
Who am I, and what has been
my medical experience? I am male, white, and I was born February 21, 1912
in Quitman, Georgia. Among my family on my father's side there have been
many members of the medical professions. (On my mother's side were as
many members of church-related professions.) I never knew either of my
grandfathers, but I am happy that their genes flow in my veins. They both
lived to a ripe old age. My mother lived to be 93.
I had the usual illnesses
of childhood and youth, but enjoyed general good health. I quit smoking
over forty years ago and my use of alcohol is confined to an occasional
social drink. A couple of knee operations about 30 and 12 years ago made
walking possible but very painful. Because I could not walk very much,
my wife and I joined a strength and agility group at the Veterans Administration
Hospital in Decatur in February 1994. This lasted four months, and this
thrice-weekly, intense workout and exercise built up my body to such an
extent that Nautilus Magazine wrote about my results in their Spring 1995
issue. I never felt better in my life. This body conditioning probably
saved my life three times in less than two years. In September 1994 I
developed a complete blockage of my right femoral artery. I had not eaten
prudently over the years and my arteries and veins paid me back for this
imprudence. I was faced with an emergency operation on the artery and
amputation if the operation failed. The operation was a success. I recovered
quickly and enjoyed good health until, on February 20, 1995, the bypass
"blew out." I only knew that I had a sudden pain in my leg. My doctor
was in France. It was Saturday morning. The doctor would be back on Monday.
I "toughed it out" (how stupid can you be?) until Monday. The doctor then
did an emergency bypass of the bypass. I had been bleeding internally
for over two days.
Seven days and three transfusions
later I was dismissed from the hospital. I felt terrible, but was about
to get back on my feet when I had a heart attack early in March. This
time it looked like curtains for sure. An operation on my heart could
not be done because it had been such a short time since the last operation.
An angioplasty was not indicated because of the particular location of
the blockage in my heart artery. But something had to be done. Seven days
later a surgeon reluctantly agreed to try to unstop the blockage with
angioplasty. He made it clear that he was pessimistic about the outcome.
Fortunately, it worked well, with 80 percent restoration of the heart
function. Six days later I was out of the hospital. One month later I
was in cardiovascular rehab therapy and gaining strength each day. I completed
this rehab in four months and went from 3 min to 40 min on the exercise
bicycle in that period of time. I felt fine. My genes and proper exercise
paid off again. Little did I know what was ahead of me in December.
The stroke comes suddenly,
like a thief in the night. The follow-up shock comes with a rush, bringing
with it multitudinous questions, some of which have no answers today.
There are not, as yet, any little doors to the brain that can be opened
so that a clear view of the why, when and where of the billions of its
functions can be seen clearly and perfectly understood. But reality is
there in the form of a frantic human being begging for understanding and
begging to be understood. Uncertainty is the most painful aspect of any
srious illness. It leads to wild speculation and often to much undue grief.
For this reason I have attempted
to describe my own personal journey down that path, hoping it will pave
the way for one who might eventually follow as patient or loved one.
I began writing about a month
after my stroke. The paragraphs which follow were written at different
times, in different moods
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