It is hard to believe it has been a year since John had his stroke. There is so much to be grateful for and downright astounded by in terms of his recovery. I did update his Caring Bridge that you can read here.

Aside from my husband’s amazing recovery, I am most shocked by how I cannot shake the trauma that occurred during those first few hours, between 8:00 p.m. on June 27th and 4:00 a.m. on June 28th.

I am Gen X. I am a midwestern girl, with blue collar roots. I shake things off. I pick myself up, dust myself off, and get on with it. No point in dwelling on things.

But for the past year I lay awake most nights reliving those hours when it felt like the universe was conspiring to kill my husband and I felt so powerless to do anything about it.

When I didn’t call an ambulance immediately.

When the firemen cleared him of having a stroke and tried to call the ambulance off.

Of the ambulance drivers being incapable of getting the stretcher in, or John out, of our home.

Of the ER leaving him in a hallway for 2 hours.

Not even giving him an aspirin in those first two hours, despite presenting with worst headache of life, vision disturbance, balance so bad he was unable to sit up let alone walk.

Of not being allowed to see him for those first two hours.

Of the nurse and I each holding one of his legs and attempting to massage the cramping and convulsions away.

Of begging her to help him, to see that there was something seriously wrong going on.

Of me telling her that it had to be something neurological.

Of watching him decline over the next couple of hours and beginning to think for the first time that he might actually die.

Of various moments over the next 3 weeks.

Of various moments in the few weeks he was home trying to find appropriate out patient therapy.

I am nearly as shocked by how much these memories linger in my brain, as I am by the fact that John had a stroke.

Many people have asked me if I consulted a lawyer over the way John was treated at Kennestone Emergency Department. A “nationally recognized stroke center.” I did. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I didn’t.

We were told by Kennestone the day before we were discharged that they did not follow protocols for John. That what happened to him in the Emergency Department was unacceptable and they were sorry.

The bottom line is that John doesn’t have compensable damages. The very well respected medical malpractice lawyer agreed that what happened was egregious but lawsuits require damages. And praise be to God, we don’t have any worth complaining about.

John can do everything he used to do (for the most part). He returned to work. I am eternally grateful for all of this. I hope Kennestone Emergency Department thanks God as much as I do because they seriously fucked up. It is just that simple.

Medical departments, doctors, nurses, all human. Mistakes happen. I can understand and accept this, so I don’t understand why I can’t move past those hours.

Probably because I felt so helpless. Maybe because I did the things you think you should do and it didn’t make a difference. I called in the professionals. Got him to the hospital. And had to beg and plead with every person, every step of the way, to help him. And they still didn’t.

The silver lining to the entire experience at Kennestone was the Neurological Department. Once we got out of the Emergency Department, they took such excellent care of John. For the first full week when he was in ICU I got to sleep in his room and witness the care he received for 24/7. When he moved to the Critical Care Unit across the hall, I had to go home at night. It was a full week there before he was moved to in-patient rehab at North Fulton.

In patient rehab. Getting him there was a whole other thing that shouldn’t have been as hard or stressful as it was. Kennestone has employees called Patient Care Coordinators. They are supposed to help with this process. Ours just made it harder. I think maybe they used to work for Metro Ambulance haha. Little did I know I was just being trained for the fight that would come to get him into out patient rehab.

In addition to consulting a lawyer, I also reached out to Cobb Fire about this. The firemen that night were so kind. They carried him out of our house because Metro Ambulance was absolutely useless. I didn’t reach out in anger, I reached out because I needed to know that the next person having a vertebral artery stroke was not going to be dismissed. I actually spoke with someone with Cobb County Fire and they assured me that they have changed their training to include the signs John was having.

It is something that everyone needs to know, but most especially first responders. BEFAST. It used to just be FAST. John did not have (F) facial drooping. Or (A) arm weakness, or (S) slurred speech (although his voice did change), or confusion. He did have complete loss of (B) balance, (E) vision disturbance and a (T) terrible headache. Three out of six, but based on the old protocol, only one.

A vetebral artery stroke presents very much like vertigo, so if you ever have sudden onset extreme vertigo symptoms, please know that you might be having a stroke.

If my brain can shut off these traumatic thoughts, then it goes to trying to make peace with the fact that we don’t know, and likely will not know, why John had this stroke to begin with. If we don’t know why he had it, how do we make sure he won’t have another one?

We are seeing new research papers showing that Covid-19 infection – the infection itself – can be the cause of ICAD (intracranial atherosclerotic disease). If John’s occlusion was caused by plaque then perhaps there is something here. We have also seen articles tying the infection to increased stroke in younger, healthy individuals with no risk factors. The number or strokes in this demographic has increased dramatically since 2020. Then there is the vaccine.

The bottom line is we can’t make sure that he won’t have another one. And as I stated in the Caring Bridge post, it is not up to us. Thinking we have control over how we die is a fool’s game. Only God knows these things. The only solution is to focus on how we live. And be grateful for each day, and every breath.

We are trying to do that I think we are doing a pretty good job. We have started to travel again. We also started a very exciting new chapter with the purchase of a lot. We have lived in this house for 25 years. It will probably be 26 by the time we actually move into our new house. We will probably not travel much over the next couple of years as we focus on building this house, so I have started planning John’s retirement trip. You may laugh at that because it is a few years down the line, but you know what future planning is? It is hope. Hope for another 26 years in our new home. Hope for a long and happy retirement when the time comes.

I am hoping as we put the one year mark in the rearview that much of what I have just shared becomes less and less present in my thoughts.

I am grateful for this entire experience. It has increased my faith, my reliance on God, my belief that life is beautiful. My gratefulness for the life we have had and the hope for many more years to create new memories. Eventually, I know my brain will stop reliving this experience. I believe that the more good things I focus on, the faster it will subside, so that is goal.

Last night we got stuck in a torrential downpour. Lightening, power failure at the restaurant, it was a doozy. John ran to get our car and brought it around to pick me up, but it was raining so hard, I was still soaked! What great fun that was. Especially when compared to one year before. I had to laugh because we were a cliche – we were literally dancing in the rain. After a year of figuratively learning to do just that, we were literally doing that.