Post Stroke …

The author grapples with how and why she survived a stroke

It has now been over two months since I had my stroke in Philly. I am feeling like I’m getting back to normal, but I still have some residual thoughts about it.

One reason I’m writing this on Substack is to let people know the early signs of stroke so they won’t ignore them. In my case, I have a certain bravado about things like aches and pains, and occasional word retrieval episodes — you know the drill if you’re over 60!

My good friend and neighbor, Marti, always asks me to tell her about the times I’ve driven myself to the emergency room (which are legion!)—she thinks it’s ridiculous that I don’t call her or ask my husband to take me. Last winter, when I almost lost the site in my right eye, it was about 5:30 in the morning and I was trying to start the woodstove, but I sat down quickly and clipped my right eye on the lever. I didn’t want to wake my husband up, so I drove myself to the ER!

One thing I’ve learned is not to ignore the signs of a stroke. I’ve had a few courses in basic first aid and I know how to do CPR, but when it comes to myself, I’m a bit of a denier of my own symptoms.

When I was in that parking lot at the Wawa in suburban Philadelphia, I knew something was not right and I took action. But even when the ambulance got there, I told the EMT that I was feeling better and I didn’t think I needed to go to the hospital. Clint, the wonderful EMT, calmly said, “Get in the gurney.”

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the stroke I had in the ambulance. All I remember is I was talking to Clint, and I heard the siren of the ambulance, and the driver leaned back and said, with much consternation, “We have to take a detour because there’s construction ahead!”

After that, I remember nothing. When I came to, Clint was on his phone saying they were elevating the situation to Level Three Trauma and they would be there in approximately five minutes.

He turned to me and he said, “Dede, what do you remember?”

“Nothing,” I replied.

“The right side of your face melted,” he said with alarm.

I’ve since learned there is something the medics term “The Golden Hour,” in which you get help within the first 60 minutes. In my case, that is what happened, and I survived with minimal effects. I’ve also read that there is another window of 3.5 to 4 hours in which doctors can save your life.

So, that said, and in the spirit of a PSA, I recommend using the B.E. F.A.S.T. acronym to quickly identify the signs:

• Balance: Sudden loss of balance or coordination.

• Eye: Sudden vision changes or trouble seeing.

• Face: One side of the face droops when smiling.

• Arms: One arm drifts downward when both are raised.

• Speech: Slurred speech or difficulty repeating a simple phrase.

• Time: Time to call 911.

To my newly subscribed Substackers, be safe out there.