My Stroke

The night of December 15^th, 2010, I started feeling sick. Around 9pm, I was watching a DVR recording of Top Chef, and as Padma introduced the Quickfire, I went to lie down on my couch.  Immediately I got dizzy, and it didn’t wear off.  I had eaten half a pot cookie, and originally I thought it could be due to that, but I had done it before and knew what it felt like.  What I was feeling felt way different.  I tried then to sleep it off, because frankly, 27 is way too young for anything serious to happen to my health, so I was in denial even though something felt seriously wrong.

It’s hard to remember the exact time, but I want to say around 3am my speech started slurring and I started throwing up.  It was dark in my room because I had tried to go to sleep, but I think at this point my vision split and I started seeing doubles of everything.  When my left side went completely numb I called 911.  I considered calling friends because I knew they would take me to the hospital and get me the help I needed, but I knew I needed attention right away and I felt the paramedics could get me to the hospital faster while administering some help.  So I called them.  It is the realization that I needed help that some say I lived to tell my story.  Some say it’s my age, and others say it’s the fitness level I had.  Whatever it is, I’m just happy things worked out the way they did; it could’ve been a lot worse.

When the paramedics arrived, I could barely speak or move, but still because I’m so young they didn’t think “stroke”.  Before we left for the ER, they insisted on putting my slippers on me because even though I was dressed, my feet were bare and it was cold outside.  My slippers are sharks that go on your feet.  I bought them a year ago thinking they were funny.  Little did I know what a hit they would become.  The paramedics diagnosed me with an anxiety attack and took me to St. Mary’s ER because it was closer to my apartment.  This was maybe 4am, December 16^th, two days after my 27^th birthday on December 14^th.

Around 6am, the hospital staff still had no clue what was wrong with me, and I knew my closest friend and coworker, Brad, would be worried, so I asked one of the nurses to call him.  He came in as soon as possible and stayed by my side whenever allowable.  He called my other friend, Lydia, and she called Tod and Michelle.  All of them came in to see me whenever possible.  I told Brad not to call my parents unless I was admitted; I knew they’d fly out on the next plane and I didn’t want them to do that unless there was a good reason.

I was in the ER for hours, attended by many different physicians.  I slept most of the time, so most of what I know was told to me because I barely remember anything.  I was tested for everything from drug interactions to meningitis, but stroke was overlooked; partly because of my young age and mostly because it didn’t show on my initial scans.

Despite their best efforts and after several scans and tests, I was not diagnosed until the evening of the 16^th, which is when I was finally admitted and I made the decision to have my parents called.  I was diagnosed with a bilateral dissection of the vertebral artery. 

http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/761451-overview

Basically the vertebral artery feeds your cerebellum and splits into two.  Both of my branches tore, resulting in a deprivation of oxygen to my cerebellum.  The cerebellum controls most motor functions, including breathing, walking and speech.  Though I don’t remember most of it, I am told I almost didn’t make it, and that surviving what I had was a miracle.  Even when I pulled through, there was a big chance of surgery, which would have removed my cerebellum completely.  Though I could live without my cerebellum, a chance at regaining the quality of life I wanted would be gone.

I woke up in the ICU the day after: December 17^th.  I made it through the initial stroke but things were still up in the air and I was still touch and go.  Brad, Lydia, Michelle and Tod kept a vigil by my side.  Brad had to leave, but my parents arrived shortly thereafter, along with my cousin, Brian.  I don’t remember much, but I know that somehow I lived through what at the time was a nightmare.

They don’t know what caused the stroke.  I had a migraine on December 9^th and I went snowboarding on December 11^th (I didn’t hit my head, I swear!).  The former can be, though often is not, a warning sign, and the latter can be a cause.  But because I didn’t have the stroke until December 15^th/16^th, there isn’t a real indicator of how or why.  Now my current neurologist sees an abnormal clotting factor, which is genetic and may be the cause, but I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure.