Saturday, June 12th.
We spent all night in the ER. Somehow they let Joe in with me even though there were Covid restrictions. My nurse’s name is Angel. She is an angel. I was admitted early in the morning to the neruo unit. I don’t have to go to the neuroICU because they determine I am no longer in immediate danger due to the heavy blood thinners. We do not sleep much at all. Nurse’s enter the room every hour at least. Joe stays close and sleeps in my hospital bed with me. I remember one night-nurse opens the door and squeals when she sees us together in the tiny bed and loudly exclaims “ohhhh how adorable!” We did not find this amusing.
I meet a neuro who handles in-patient cases. His name is Dr. Green. He tells me I had a stroke and explains what that means. None of it feels real. Every time I try to speak I cry instead. Dr. Green is patient and tells me it might take a little while for this reality to sink in. I am told the stroke occurred from a dissection, which is essentially a cut in the artery. Dr. Green asks me to think about what was happening in my life in 2019 or last year that could have caused the dissection. We think likely it came from a new workout, but he explains it could have come from turning my head wrong. What? Okay so now I am a person who has to fear turning my head too quickly. Wonder how the professional dance career is going to work with that restriction. I am terrified of loosing this and loosing singing. They keep me another night to ensure I am stable. Which is good. I am terrified of going home and having another stroke.
Sunday, June 13th
I talk to Dr. Green again. Each time he comes I have a long list of new questions. He tells me I should expect to take a week off from work. I am surprised by this and unsure I would need it but agree to do so. I ask him many questions about fitness and finally begin to understand that for a while – I shouldn’t do anything. No working out for now. Hmmm.
Not sure when – but at some point in the past week I lost more control of my left hand. I didn’t realize the extent until I get home from the hospital and flossing and tying my shoe prove difficult. One week off work turned into two which turned into three. I melted into the couch. I was dizzy all the time. Sometimes I felt like I was floating which wasn’t too bad. It was like being on fun drugs. But I was not on drugs.
Aftermath.
I feel heartbroken.
I am alive I have so much to be thankful for.
And for a while I was on a high. I am ALIVE. I am here for a reason. I have good work to do here on Earth. Then the loss set in. Loss of freedom. Can’t be left alone for any extended amount of time. Loss of doing anything or going anywhere by myself. Loss of energy. Loss of trust in my body (working on it). Loss of being carefree. Loss of pushing my body the way I used to (for now). Loss of doing a triathlon this year. Loss of breaking more PR’s. Loss of training in Ariel silks class.
Loss of concentration. Loss of not getting overwhelmed by normal things. Loss of the theatre camp and show I was supposed to help run and perform in. Loss of dance (for now). Loss of just not being dizzy. Loss of singing full range and full voice (for now).
It felt extra disheartening at the moment while the world seems to be opening up again from Covid, that I am “canceling” my life again. We are coming out of a pandemic and so much is coming back to life. Theatre is coming BACK.
I do not make this list to be negative. While I am so incredibly lucky and grateful to have control over my body the way I do, I have experienced loss. However small it might be comparatively to others who have had a stroke. I have learned by now it is important to mourn the loss of all of these things however small they might seem, they are not small to me.
I struggle with allowing myself to mourn this loss, though. A friend of mine’s sister suffered a massive stroke a few months before mine and now is working to relearn full speech and movement abilities. How how had this happened to her and I was “okay”? I should be beyond grateful to be here. To be alive. And I do have moments of this. And I have more moments of feeling devastated and not myself. I decide to go on antidepressants, something I have never done before. They help immensely. Not to feel happy all the time. But to get through the day without sobbing. To climb out of my dark hole.
This was truly just the beginning of my stroke recovery journey. And the first diagnosis for the cause was not correct. I do have answers now, which I will share in future posts, because I think it is important. What happened to me specifically was so weird and rare, but strokes are actually very common. It’s important to learn what you can, because it is very likely that at some point in your life someone you know will be affected by a stroke.
The best thoughts I can leave you with today are this: Trust yourself. There are some amazing doctors out there – but doctors are not in charge of your health. I have been misdiagnosed for several things in my life. Our health and our wellbeing is up to us – we go to doctors for information. Not to hand over responsibility. Trust yourself. Trust your intuition.
Today I am miles beyond where I was when I wrote most of this. More to come :).