SO, I haven't written in a long time. There are reasons, but let's get to the good stuff first, shall we? Yes, we shall. Unfortunately, my husband suffered a stroke 3 weeks ago. It was sudden and when I got the call, I swear I drove well over 90MPH to get to him. His boss called me and told me he "fell out". I don't know, is that one of those Texas phrases?
Well, it means the person in some way has either passed out( and then fell out, I guess), and is acting weird. She told me his speech was very slurred and that nobody could understand him. He was confused, as well. I thought it was his blood sugar dipping too low. I told her to give him a coke and something else sweet like cake icing in a tube, and he should be better. I did leave work to get to him, though. His boss then put him on the phone, and I swear to jebus that the sound of his voice was the scariest thing I've ever heard. None of it was intelligible, and at that point, I switched into crazy woman driving 90 miles per hour down the highway.
After they put my husband on the phone, it got passed to a police officer. He attempted to calm me down and not kill myself on the way. Then he asked, "Is he the retired police officer?" I told him that he was. From that point on, I had no issue getting to the hospital. I was probably over 30 miles away and I flew to get there. Once I was in our town, I continued my crazed death wish driving. The weird thing is that I passed over five police cars, and not one of them stopped me. I wouldn't have pulled over, anyhow, and right now I would be on some TV shows about people who run from the cops. It would have been a high speed pursuit, but I figured that when my final destination was the ER at the hospital, they would understand.
I arrived there before the ambulance with my husband arrived. He was about a 1/2 mile from the hospital. I found out the reason no police stopped me and they appeared to be directing traffic so I could fly down the road. The police officer who spoke to me on the phone had put out a radio call that all officers heard, telling them to let me pass, I was the spouse of an officer who was ill and being transported to the hospital. When I got about a mile from the hospital, I had two police cars behind me, but no lights or sirens. They were making sure I got to the hospital fast. How AWESOME is that?
Say what you will about cops, (but not in my hearing or I will go batshit crazy and break out my secret Ninja/Pirate moves on your ass. It would be an ass whuppin' that would go down into the pages of history books. Who are you going to call if someone breaks into your house? Your local crack dealer? Well, hell no. He probably is over charging anyhow and who needs that? No, you would call 911 and the police would come, and then you could go back to antagonizing cops to get a reaction and saying horrible things about them.
But I digress....turned out my husband had a stroke. I was paralyzed with fear, confusion and well, fear. I didn't want to alarm our kids who are away at college, or anyone else, so I waited to call anyone. He came in with vomit all over his shirt, and the only thing that appeared wrong was his speech. Everything else was fine. He passed all the stroke tests, they sent him for an MRI, a CT scan, and that all happened almost immediately. I have had to wait eons to get someone to come get me in the hospital. Not this time. This time, they got lab results back in less than a 1/2 hour. So, basically all of this hustle and bustle began to scare me even more. Nobody would tell me anything. The Dr. was a douche bag (for reasons I will share later.) The nurse was way more on the ball than that sorry assed Dr.
They had my husband grasp hands and see if his grip was the same on both sides, and it was. Both feet, and toes were fine, his legs were fine, and he didn't have anything drooping on his face. All in all, he seemed fine, but you couldn't understand a damned word he said. We sat and attempted to talk, but for the love of all that is holy, I couldn't tell what he said and he got very frustrated with me. I figured that was a pretty good sign. Yay! It might not even be a stroke! About 15 minutes later, he was paralyzed on his right side and his mouth was drooping on the right side. Wha? What the fuck? He was just FINE. Now...not so fine. I'm no shrinking violet so I began asking more questions than anyone could answer. MY theory is that he had a second stroke after his MRI. I spoke to another Dr. and she said that sounded right. Why did they not want to keep him? Why did I have to wig out so that they would life flight him to a much better hospital? Because he had a SECOND STROKE, but they didn't tell me. Assclowns. They hustled him into cardiac intensive care, and began a whole bottle of TPA to thin his blood, and the next thing I knew, I was driving to the next hospital which was in the next town over.
I arrived at about the same time as the helicopter. I now believe flying cars are in our future. I am serious. I believe I pulled a George Jetson move. I think I flew. In the air. Sort of. I'm not sure. But it was possible! When we got him into the hospital, they did a shit ton more tests. He was in ICU. Yep, he'd had a stroke, and there was a lesion on his brain in the right hemisphere. DAMMIT! He could do nothing at that point. They wouldn't let him have water or anything because he couldn't swallow properly. He waited two days before he was cleared for water. We stayed in ICU for about 7 or 8 days. They then took him down to the Acute care floor. It seemed just as serious as the ICU. Each nurse had only one patient. I even told a nurse "I don't care about that patient! The only patient that matters is my husband, so get in there and do your nursing stuff!" So I'm selfish, so what?
I can tell you this right now; if you are that severely impaired and in the hospital you better have someone who loves you stay there if possible. If you don't you will not get as good care. I am his advocate, his care giver, his person he can get impatient with, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, I would, too. I just lied. I would have it another way. I would have him not have a stroke. I've had to bathe him, help him on the toilet, wipe his rear, shave him, brush his teeth, and at first I had to feed him. I have to translate what he says to nurses, and some of the therapists. He began receiving speech, physical and occupational therapy. Those therapists were boss. I mean they should literally be the boss of that place. Of course, insurance won't pay for you to stay even though you need to. So, we were moved to where we are now, a rehab center. I have not left his side. I have slept alongside him, and done all of the other tasks he had to do. I have gone out and politely told the first person in scrubs that they better get their shit together or I would lose mine. He gets much more attention that way. I have become a fixture around here and all of the nurses call our room "The fortress", because I am guarding him.
Now on to the good stuff! Oh wait, my husband is progressing rapidly and he is determined to get out of here, but he is delusional because he thinks he'll go back to work. Um, not without movement in your right arm and leg, buddy. Ok, so this is one of the best places in the world for people watching, and the subsequent stories I concoct about everyone in my mind. It is mind blowing how many people there are to just be a nosy bitch about. I am a nosy bitch anyhow, but this is a whole new level.
Most of the patients in here are quite elderly. Therefore, they want everything THEIR WAY AND THEY WANT IT NOW. I love it. Let them know who their daddy is! My husband is quiet because of his speech. There is a little old lady who is a tiny little thing you want to pick up and cuddle. She has a baby voice and is just precious. I don't pick her up because even though I am fairly certain she would like it, the stupid staff wouldn't like it. Always ruining my fun.
There is another patient who is in his late 60s and has long hair and a bandanna tied around his head. I call him "Wille Nelson". He will holler "HEY!" at me when I am at the little alcove with the coffee maker and refrigerator are. That is how I met him. He wheeled over to me and said, "I said HEY!" He then opened the fridge and procured a juice, a small diet soda, a half of a sandwich and an applesauce and a coffee. He thought he could just pick them up and roll then on over to his table where he holds court daily. I took most of it away from him and said "I'll carry this, you can't get it all." He seemed a bit pissed at first, but when we got back to his table, I opened the juice, the applesauce the sandwich, and everything else. He thanked me profusely, but also began grilling me with questions about my origin, who my patient was that I am here for, just basically doing all of the things that keep me in my house all the time. I don't like chit chat. I despise small talk. Close talk, loud talk, I hate them all.
Then, his compatriot ...damn, I can't think of his name. However, since that little gang of hooligans stopped me every time I was near, I found out that this guy was from the same town my grandmother was from. A very small town that most people in Texas have never even heard of. He had a tendency to doze off. Like...while talking. Then he would wake up and forget who I was or what we had been talking about. Bless him. BERNIE! That was his name. Anyhow, "Willie Nelson" whose real name is Walter, always went outside to this tree near the street to smoke. That was the designated place. Bernie would go with him. Walter could push his chair with his hands, and so could have Bernie, but he just propelled himself with his feet. He was Walter's groupie. There were a couple of old lady groupies, too. One would be in her nightgown by six o'clock and as my husband and I would walk by on our nightly practice walks, she would stand in her doorway and tell everyone "Good night" until she got tired and then she went in and went to bed.
Everyone knew when everyone else was going to be discharged, and we all felt the same way. Everyone was discharged too early and it was the insurance companies fault. At any rate, there was a Japanese lady who had the same stroke as Wally. Same spot even. So, they finally got her into a wheelchair, and they made her wear a sling which Wally was supposed to, but refused to do. She started coming out and propelling her self very slowly all up and down the room. One time, Walter got ahold of me and Wally and we were sitting there with him, and he goes.."HEY! DEAR! HEY!" So, we all looked toward where he was looking, and sure enough, it was the little Japanese lady in her wheelchair. The problem was, she was wheeling herself into every single room and hanging out. She was just coming back out of Walter's room. She ignored him when he said, "HEY! SWEETHEART! WHY YOU IN MY ROOM? BY GOD!" We all shrugged and went back to our conversation. Walter's job was traveling the country playing pool for God's sake. Is that even a job? He had had a leg amputated due to diabetes complications.
He was also the biggest gossip I've ever met in my life and I loved him for it. He was discharged about a week before we were. I hope he is kicking butt playing pool in his wheelchair.
OH! BIG DRAMA one night. They brought in a lady and she was in the room next to ours. We are in our room, it was about 7pm, the hospital is quieting down because almost all of the old people were asleep and a lot of them got morphine regularly, so...there ya go. The new lady had just been brought in a few hours earlier. All of a sudden, I hear a big bang and then someone weakly hollering, "Help me!" I ran over and saw her sprawled out on the floor and ran hollering for a nurse, who came running and then two more came. I told them what I saw. I went back into our room. I told Wally about it. He made some inappropriate comment which we both probably cracked up at. We went to sleep. The next day.....I peek into the room next door because I am a nosy bitch....no lady.
Where did she go??? What is the meaning of this? Why was I not consulted? So, while Wally was at therapy, I did my daily sleuthing. According to my sources, (the nurses at the nurses station) they had transferred the lady to a bed right across from then where they could see her. They also put the god awful loudest alarm in the world on her wheelchair and her bed. IT WENT OFF EVERY FIVE DAMNED MINUTES. In other words, she tried to get up when she wasn't supposed to all the damned time. Nuisance. The alarm would start and they would all look at each other and one would sigh and say, "I'll go..." I would have gone and duct taped her to the damned bed.
Well, I am exhausted and am going to sleep. We are home and I had forgotten I had started this while at the rehab hospital. So, this post happened BEFORE the other post about the stroke...and after. It's weird. Anyhow, it's all part of the same story.
HELPFUL HINT: LOOK BOTH WAYS WHEN CROSSING THE STREET.
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