That Day I Almost Lost My Best Friend

    March 14, 2008 - Pi Day; Monica and I were staying at her parents house for a few days down in south Florida, after a trip to Disney. We woke up very early (3:30 am) that Friday morning in order to make the 10 hour drive home in time to be there when my kids got off of school. 

    Her parents were still sleeping, and as we got ready Monica was awake and active, but I found it a little strange that she wouldn't talk. She just pointed to stuff that she needed packed or grabbed or whatever. It was still dark when we got into our car to leave, and without a word, Monica immediately jumped into the back seat of our rental car and fell fast asleep. I remember being a little annoyed that she wasn't going to be keeping me any company in these early morning hours, but I turned on some music and drove. 

    A few hours later, we were most of the way through Georgia, and I needed to stop for gas. I called back to her to see if she needed to use the bathroom. She again did not answer, but she got out of the car and walked into the gas station. I finished pumping the gas, then I went into the gas station to use the washroom myself and to buy some coffee. I met her in there and asked her if she needed any coffee or soda or anything. Instead of answering, she started pointing at stuff again. Now my suspicions turned in to a full alarm. I asked her if everything was ok, and she didn't answer. She smiled, but didn't answer. I bought us our coffee, but as we walked out to the car, my mind and my heart were racing. Something was wrong. 

    Once we got to the car, she sat up front with me and grabbed a notepad and started writing. What she was writing made some sense, but the words were stilted and jumbled. One word stood out and let me know that we were on the same page...."Stroke"?

    By that time we were back on I95 nearing the South Carolina state line. I was madly looking for a hospital. We followed one hospital sign that took us to a closed Urgent Care center. I jumped back onto the interstate and soon enough we arrived in South Carolina. We saw another hospital sign at the Hardeeville/Hilton Head exit and I followed it to a small hospital where I walked her into the emergency room and told them that I thought that my wife was having a stroke. They reacted quickly and took over her care, but were skeptical that a healthy 43 year old woman would be having a stroke. They kept asking her if she had ever had any anxiety issues and if she was currently experiencing them. She could not talk, but she could kind of write, even though the words didn't come out on the page in the order that she was thinking them; so she answered the best she could, and I helped to fill in the blanks. We still didn't get the impression that they believed that she was having a stroke, but they followed through as if she had, and soon enough a scan came through that showed some fresh damage to the speech area of her brain. Although there was no longer any evidence of a clot or a bubble, it was clear to them that there had been a recent stroke event. 

    At that point I started making phone calls to family. I called Monica's parents and her oldest daughter Nicole. I also called her ex-husband to let him know so he could break the news to Monica's younger children, Andrew and Jessica. After that I made arrangements for my ex-wife to watch my four children a little bit longer until I could get home that night. We weren't on that great of terms with either of our ex's at that point, but thankfully they both stepped up and showed some grace. 

    After determining that Monica's event had passed and she was out of danger of any further damage, she took an ambulance ride over to the Hilton Head Hospital main campus where she was given a room and put under the care of the neurologist on call. In the meantime, Monica's parents and brother drove up from Florida, and Monica's sister drove over from Columbia SC. 

    Throughout this episode, I was outwardly calm, but I was an internal mess. I felt great relief when I got her to the hospital and had professionals take over her care. It was also very helpful to have family there with us, especially Monica's dad, who was a retired doctor. He knew what questions to ask, and what the answers meant. 

    In a nutshell, Monica had a hole between the two chambers of her heart, which had been there since birth. A bubble or clot had gotten from one side over to the side that leads to the brain, and it had caused a stroke. 

    The stroke occurred on a Friday. I was able to take Monica home on Monday. By that point she was able to enunciate single words, and we had a game plan to get with a cardiologist and a neurologist back home in Greenville. Monica also needed to take heparin, a blood thinner that I had to give her via an injection to her stomach on a daily basis until we could see a doctor to get her on a regimen of Coumadin, a pill based blood thinner. 

    With Monica's inability to talk, I became her voice over the next days and weeks. I coordinated her care with the neurologist, the cardiologist, the Coumadin administrator and with a speech therapist. I also worked with the human resources folks at our employer and within a few months, our catastrophic event morphed to a new normal, which eventually looked very much like our old normal. We chose to undergo a then experimental procedure to place a mesh barrier to close the hole in her heart (the alternative being a lifetime regimen of Coumadin). The procedure was successful. Through hard work, Monica was able to regain almost all of her speech abilities. Her only remaining minor deficiencies come when she is tired or if she encounters a word that she doesn't use often. People who don't already know would never think that Monica was a stroke survivor. 

    At the time of her stroke, Monica and I had been married for just over two years. I didn't know at the time that I could love her any more than I already did, but almost losing her drove home just how important she was to me. I have spent most days since then feeling gratitude for not losing her that day, and for having her in my life. This thankfulness comes at me extra strongly each Pi Day, when I can fondly reminisce about the day that I didn't lose my best friend.