A Stroke of Luck

When we first got to North Carolina, Drew had already rented a house for us.  It’s a cute two-story with a large backyard for my dogs.  We live on the outskirts of Raleigh.  We have to drive past forested areas, cotton fields, and old churches with tiny, ancient graveyards next to them.  My heart ached for the home I’d left, but I was excited about the possibilities.

I struggled with depression for the first couple of months.  I cried a lot and wanted to go home.  Drew did his best to comfort me, but I missed my family and friends so much, I began to question whether I’d made the right decision.

I was scanning Craigslist and other job sites looking for a job.  One day, I got an email from a small auto repair shop I’d sent my resume’ to. We set up an interview and after two or three additional interviews, he offered me a job.

My boss was named Keith.  Keith had a kind of intense personality, so I had a lot of anxiety that I wouldn’t be able to meet his expectations.  There was a lot of new stuff to learn and I’d be expected to run errands at times with absolutely no idea of the layout of Raleigh.

My fears were finally put to rest when Keith was constantly coming into my office to tell me how pleased he was with how quickly I picked up the tasks he assigned me.   He was great at patting us on the back and telling us that we were doing a great job.  Before long, he called me into his office to tell me that he was giving me a raise.

Having a job I liked and working with people who were fun was just what I needed to climb out of the funk I’d been in.  Drew and I were learning our community and found a Sushi and Hibachi place that we loved.  I especially loved it because when we decided on hibachi, we’d be seated at a counter with several other people.  I can strike up a conversation with anyone, and I usually would.  We would meet people and have a great time.

Things were going wonderfully, and it came time for our vacation.  

Drew and I went to Disney World and Universal Studios in Orlando.  Universal is home to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, so I was in heaven.  By the third day in the park, I was seriously ill.  The next morning, I woke up and could barely breathe.  Drew took me to the ER, and I ended up hospitalized for three days.  Keith and the guys from work sent me flowers.  I made Drew go to the park without me.  The day I got out of the hospital was Drew’s birthday.  We went to dinner to celebrate.  We rented a wheelchair for the next couple of days and extended our trip out a couple of days.  Because it was an emergency, the airline did not charge us for the change, and the hotel gave us the deal rate on the extra days that we stayed.

When I got back to work, the guys up front were concerned that I might not have been able to go to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.  The first question they asked me was, “Did you get your wand?”  It made me feel loved.

We were just a few weeks from Christmas, at this point.  I had a plan ticket purchased so that I could go home and visit my family and friends.  I was running the toys 4 tots drive at work and everything seemed back to normal.

By December 11, I had had a headache for four days that would not go away.  I had gotten up around 3 AM to go to the bathroom.  When I came back to get into bed, I missed and fell to the floor.  I got back into bed and fell asleep.

When I woke up it was New Year’s Eve.  I could hear the TV on and they were talking about the Acorn drop, which is apparently a Raleigh tradition for New Years.  I listened to the goings on, and then the next thing I remembered was someone feeding me ice chips.  Drew was next to her.  She said, “Do you want more?”  I nodded.   She said, “Can you ask for more?”

It took me a moment or two, but I was able to croak out, “Can I have some more, please?”  Drew nearly jumped out of his chair.  I looked at him and said, “Can  I have a Coke?”

Drew laughed out loud, “Sorry Babe, you can’t have stuff like that, yet.”

They proceeded to tell me that I’d had viral encephalitis, brought on by the herpes simplex 1 virus that my wonderful first lover had given me as a thank you gift.  The swelling and scarring on my brain had been severe enough to lead to a series of mini-strokes.  I’d been in a coma for three weeks.  They had initially told Drew and my family that they didn’t expect me to survive.  My friends and family chipped in to get my parents out here to be with me.  Laura had come out, too.

When I checked Facebook, I had hundreds of messages from friends and family encouraging me to get well, sending their thoughts and prayers.  I had flowers and stuffed elephants (my favorite animal) and chocolates.  One of my sisters had sent me a box of cards and pictures that her kids had made for me.  My sweet niece, Dani, called me, crying, that she was so afraid they were going to lose me.

One of the nurses told me that Drew had been at my side every night since I’d been brought in.  She told me that he must love me very much because he was often crying.

I was in Intensive Care, but on January 18, they moved me to inpatient rehab in the same hospital.  The nurses there were hit and miss.  Some of the regulars were wonderful and I adored them.  Some of them didn’t understand that I had trouble processing questions and requests and they would rush me.  I hated when they would start shoving and pulling on me because I bruise easily.  I was covered with bruises.

I was having issues controlling my bladder.  I’d call to be taken to the bathroom, and they’d stand in the doorway, asking me if I was done every minute or so.  It was very frustrating.  Often, I’d wet my bed before someone would come to take me to the bathroom, and I’d usually wet the bed in the night.  One nurse was particularly impatient.

The nurse tells me I’m soaked and that she needs me to roll to my right. I tell her, ok, give me a second, please. She waits a few seconds, then starts pestering. I realize that nurses are busy, so I’m trying to cooperate without getting mad. I grab the side rail. “Ms. R, grab this rail with that hand.”

I lay back and close my eyes, trying to quell the anxiety. She yells, “Ms. R, don’t go back to sleep.” She then grabs the blanket that’s under me and starts yanking.  This was at 3:00 AM.  Then she’s back at 6:00, for a very similar experience.

I was out of sorts all that day.  I even told my physical therapist that I felt like I’d been abused.  When Drew came in, I showed him the journal entry I’d made about the incident.  Drew turned icy.  “I’ll be back,” he said, and I have to admit that The Terminator came to mind.

Before long, he returned with a patient advocate.  The advocate asked me a bunch of questions and apologized for the experience.  He left and Drew stayed with me.  He said, “Don’t worry, you won’t see her again.  I told them that she is not to  go near you  for the rest of your stay.”

Drew stayed with me every night until I went to sleep.  He’d make sure I had clean clothes to wear.  He’d bring me treats.  When he wasn’t at the hospital, he was working or taking care of our animals.  It was winter time, so he had to make sure the dogs were staying warm on the back porch.  He even brought my sweet Opie to visit me in the courtyard when I was well enough to go outside.

One night I begged him to stay home and get some rest.  That’s the only night in the whole time that I was there that he didn’t stay with me until I fell asleep.

I was released from Rehab on February 16.  I had missed Christmas, New Years, my birthday, and Valentine’s Day.  But between this man in my life and the outpouring of love and support of friends and family back home, I felt absolutely blessed.