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) /^\\/ \/ \ /\/\__/\ \/\
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