Beth, you ask what it felt like to experience a massive cerebral hemorrahage. I'll tell you. First, a caveat. I was to be told that I did not have a burst arterial aneurism. I probably-in spite of seven neuro-angiograms while I was in neuro-ICU at UF's Shand's Hospitlal, the neurosurgeons aren't sure-had either a burst vein or the capillaries in the sub-arachnid area "blew." Second, another caveat. I had no warning of what was to come. I was two months from turning 67, but as my doctor told me during a physical only two week earlier, I was in the peak of shape for a man at 20 years younger than I was. I was power walking three-five miles every other day. I had a light lifting with 10lb dumbbells regimen every other day. I had no cholesterol problems; my blood pressure almost bordered on that of a much younger athlete; I ate "good" foods, and so on.
Anyway, it was, by the Jewish lunar calendar, a Friday two years ago tomorrow-second day of Rosh Hashonah-at about 5:00 in the morning. I had awaken as I always do, brewed a pot of coffee, went on the computer to do my ritual Washington Post cross-word puzzle, got a cup of coffee, turned off the kitchen lights, went into the unlit living room, sat in an easy chair just to think in the dark. It wasn't a day I was schedule to do a pre-dawn walk. Suddenly, and it was sudden, my ears began to block up at if the air pressure in the house had suddenly dropped. I tried to pop my ears. Didn't work. I pinched my nostrils and blew. Didn't work. The blockage continued to worsened to the point I was nearly deaf. I saw a car go by the house and didn't hear it as I normally might. Then, I got up out of the chair in an effort to pop my ears. I couldn't keep my balance. I experienced severe-and I mean severe-vertigo. I had never had experienced anything like it in my life. I tried to walk. With the first step, I literally fell back onto the stuffed arm of the chair. I got up. Boy, was I unsteady. With another step, I bounced off the wall separating the living room from the dining room. Struggling not to fall flat on my face, I moved like a pinball, reaching for, grabbing onto, bouncing, and crashing into the dining room chairs, into the dining room buffet. Finally, I caromed, actually fell, into the kitchen onto the floor. I grabbed the island to pick myself up, tipping over a metal bowl that crashed onto the floor tiles. It was so loud that it woke Susan sleeping in the master suite. I didn't not hear the noise. I was stone deaf. She came into the kitchen to yell at me for making such a racket. Before she could say a word, I lurched towards her, grabbed onto the counter in order not to fall and I told her, "Honey, something's wrong." At that moment, I broke out into such a cascading cold sweat broke out that poured off my face, down my bare chest (I wear only bvds when I sleep), that I literally pooled water around me feet. I did not have any headache; I didn't feel any nausea. Then, everything stopped. I got my balance back. My ears unblocked. Susan called our doctor's office. Since I didn't have headaches or vomiting, they PA on call told her to bring me in when the office opened at 8 am and they'd "express" me in. The PA called back after talking with my personal doctor who by luck happened to be on one of his very rare weekend calls. He said that if I got any headaches or nausea Susan was to take me immediately to the ER. Nothing. I called the Rabbi to tell him I wouldn't be at services (I was president of the congregation at the time). I called another member of the congregation to ask him to take over my duties to doling out the honors. It was now about 6 am. We had to wait around. I felt fine. It was as if the previous hour hadn't happened. I grabbed another cup of coffee and went into the bathroom. Took a long hot show. Shaved. Brushed my teeth. Wondering. Waiting. Nothing. I threw on some clothes. Waited around. At 7:50am, we left the house, I opened the car door, sat in the seat, and was hit by a sudden hearache. I opened the door, leaned out, and up came the coffee. My memory stops at that moment and I have amnesia, total amnesia, about what happened in the doctor's office, Susan taking me to the hospital ER, the MRI, being ambulanced to UF's Shand's, being in Neuro ICU for a week with a surgical team on 24/7 call if they were needed. I am told I was only a 4 hour round the clock med regimen as well as a 2 hour round the clock neuro/reflex testing. I went for neuro-angiograms each day I was in ICU. They called it a severe sub arachnid bleed that statistically instantly kills 50 of 100 who experience it, moderately to severely leaves 45 of the 50 survivors mentally and physically impaired. Only 5 out of 100, come out it, as I did, without a proverbial scratch. The surgical team wasn't needed. Whatever it was, sealed up itself. My memory returned seven days later at the moment I got into the car to head back to Valdosta. For the next eight weeks I endured severe headaches and leg pains, having what the neuro-surgeon called "chemical meningitis" caused by the free blood in my brain and seeping down my spine, on anti-neuro spasm meds, taking 800 motrins three times a day for the pain (got off that oxycontin [bad, bad stuff after only two weeks]), slept sitting up, often getting up to walk off the pain, I took leave and recovered unscathed as if it had never happened. I had to exercise, but at first I couldn't walk 100 feet without being in unbearable head and leg pains. It changed my outlook on life. But, that's, as the late Paul Harvey would have said, is the rest of the story. And, I have to get ready to head to synagogue to talk to the congregation about what this anniversary means to me. Make it a good day. --Louis-- Louis Schmier http://www.therandomthoughts.com Department of History http://www.therandomthoughts.edublogs.org Valdosta State University Valdosta, Georgia 31698 /\ /\ /\ /\ (229-333-5947) /^\\/ \/ \ /\/\__/\ \/\ / \/ \_ \/ / \/ /\/ \ /\ //\/\/ /\ \__/__/_/\_\ \_/__\ /\"If you want to climb mountains,\ /\ _ / \ don't practice on mole hills" - --- To make changes to your subscription contact: Bill Southerly (bsouthe...@frostburg.edu)