Louis,I'm glad you lived to tell the story. Thank you for sharing it with us. And thank you for not trying to drive *yourself* to the hospital. Another example of "the next one might be much worse."
Beth Benoit Granite State College Plymouth State University New Hampshire On Sat, Sep 19, 2009 at 7:35 AM, Louis Schmier <lschm...@valdosta.edu>wrote: > > 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) > > --- To make changes to your subscription contact: Bill Southerly (bsouthe...@frostburg.edu)
