Courage for Today and Hope for Tomorrow

I was about to take my exit when I discovered that I could not pick up my right foot. It seems like there was a ton of bricks on it. It felt like I was glued to the floor, inasmuch as there was no glue on the floor. Wondering what had gone wrong, I sat down on the edge of the tub for a little while to regain my composure, assess the problem and to see if the discomfiture would just go away. But it did not. So, I called my daughter-in-law and told her that I could not move my foot. She told me to sit on a chair instead of on the side of the tub, because I could fall off the edge of the tub and hit my head. I managed to drag myself out of the bathroom, with her help, and sat on the chair in the living room. It was about twenty minutes before I felt some relief. This good feeling would only last for five minutes. When I finally felt some relief, I called my doctor’s office and was told to come in. About twenty minutes elapsed and then the secretary called back and told me that the doctor wanted me to go to the Emergency Room instead and have them do a CT scan and an MRI. My daughter-in-law took me down to White Plains Hospital where they did some tests. The results: Dr. Chianfagnaa said that he did not find anything wrong with me. I should go back home, follow up with my primary care physician, and if the condition worsens come back to the Emergency Room. This was Monday November 23, three days before Thanksgiving.

I had just arrived from Georgia two days ago, and everyone was looking forward towards associating with family and friends, and to participate in the festivities.

Tuesday was uneventful. I accompanied my daughter-in-law to take the baby to see his pediatrician in Yonkers. On our way back, we stopped at my grand-daughter’s school where they were having Thanksgiving dinner. The food was very good, and it was a nice crowd of people. We left before the conclusion because we had been out all day, we were tired, and we needed to get some rest.

When I got up Wednesday morning my right foot was a little slow; it dragged a bit. My intuition told me to get to the Emergency Room right away, but my son kept telling me to go and do some exercise and walk around. I told him that I would prefer to go to the Emergency Room. He decided to take me. So, we went down to White Plains Hospital. It took us about twenty minutes to get down to White Plains Hospital. I can only imagine how different the outcome would have been had I waited longer to get to the Emergency Room or listen to my son to go and walk around and exercise. By the time we got down to White Plains, got out of the vehicle, and walk to the receptionist’s desk, I passed out, it seems. They had to get a wheelchair for me. They took my vital signs etc. after that I do not remember, or maybe was not conscious of what happened. The next thing I know, I woke up in a hospital bed, with the nurse telling me that I had a stroke. That was the 26th of November.

Then someone was helping me to get out bed because I could not walk, I could not even stand up straight. This was to last for a very long time.

There were two women who were asking me a whole lot of questions; I guess they were social workers. Anyway, I only stayed at the hospital for two nights. I was transported to the facility at Burke. I was at Burke for three months. As I said before, I could not walk, so everything was like doing it for the first time. Firstly, someone had to push me anywhere that I had to go. Secondly some of the offices were in different buildings, then I would have to be taken there. I had to learn to walk, learn to button my blouse, and learn to pick up things off the table. I could not bend to pick up things off the floor or else I would topple over. I even had to take Speech Therapy, although it was not for very long, because my speech was not affected that much. Up to now I cannot tie my shoes strings. As a matter of fact, I cannot tie anything. I had to go for Physical Therapy and Occupational Therapy every day. All the therapists were so very nice, and they knew their jobs very well. If there were anyone who needed care like me, I would highly recommend them to Burke. I was discharged from Burke on the 8th of January 2017 and was picked up by my eldest son. On January 10, the nurse was sent to visit me, and her homecare lasted until February 26. I was readmitted to Burke for the second time with a blood clot on the lung and spent three weeks there.

On my way to recovery, there was still another hurdle to overcome. I was admitted to Cobb Hospital in Georgia, where I stayed two nights; I had a mini stroke and was moved to Powder Springs Nursing and Rehabilitation Center where I spent about four weeks.