Day 1

February 10, 2014

It was  a typical Monday. Kids were home from school. Scott walked in the door and exclaimed his usual, "Honey, I'm home!" We kissed, chit-chatted with each other and our children, then began the nightly ritual of what to make for dinner. Scott decided he wanted tacos. So he went to work making them. He was busy in the kitchen and I has just finished a phone call for work. He told me to relax and put my feet up. I laughed. I did sit and watch him cook. He is so great in the kitchen, when it's something familiar. Tacos are a staple at our house.

As he cooked he began telling me that he wasn't feeling well. He thought he might have a stomach bug and said that his tummy was upset. He excused himself and went to the bathroom. When he came back, I asked if he was okay. "Yeah, just had to go." Okay, I thought. Maybe it's been a long Monday and he didn't get a chance any other time today. I went about my business and he finished up dinner. When it was done, he came and sat on the couch and didn't look well. I asked him again if he was okay. He replied politely that he was fine and just needed to rest a minute. He told me to go make myself a plate and eat, so I did. He needed a few minutes before he was ready to eat.

The next few moments were terrifying. I watched him go from his "normal" self to someone completely different. He was ignoring my statements, and not responding to the conversation we were just having. He told me needed to do the dishes and went to the kitchen to start washing. He ran the water for a few minutes, and then left. This very bad feeling washed over me in an instant. I left him alone for a few moments, but then went to check on him. When I asked him questions his responses didn't make any sense. He wanted me to turn the light off and motioned for me to flip the switch, but the words he was speaking weren't understandable.

I was sure it had to be a stroke. I had read all the emails, facebook and pintrest posts on early warning signs of a stroke and thought I knew what to do. When Scott started slurring his words, I began to think, hum...could this be happening? Then he got a headache, threw up and came back disoriented. When he began saying words I did not understand alarm bells were going off in my mind like crazy. I knew something was terribly wrong. 

I spent several minutes trying to convince my independent, strong, and extremely intelligent husband that something wasn't right. He needed to go to the hospital and he would not put on his shoes and come with me. Somehow between my thoughts of "what happens if he dies right here in front of the kids?" to "I need to get him to a good hospital, RIGHT now!" I was able to call 911 and get an ambulance on it's way. During this time, Scott was unable to say very much. He would not answer certain questions I asked. I saw him slip away from me to a place I could no longer reach him.

When EMS arrived, Scott could not tell them where he was, or who any of us were. He kept looking at me with recognition, but could not say my name. His face was so sad and I felt completely helpless and started to get very angry. The EMT's were saying he didn't meet their stroke criteria. I was afraid they weren't going to take him to the hospital after all. My face must have said so, because as soon as one said he didn't meet the criteria, another piped up and said that clearly something was wrong and they would go ahead and take him.

The terrified look in the eyes of my children will haunt me the rest of my life. My heart was breaking in more ways than I could count. I was sorry they were so scared. I was so sorry they had to see their Dad this way and be taken away in an ambulance. I was sad I had to leave them and go to the hospital with my husband. I was scared to death of what was happening to my best friend, and I could do nothing but go along and wait for the next moment...and then the next. I kept thinking, "What if I never see MY Scott again?" 

From the time I first noticed his odd behavior, until the time we arrived in the E.R. was about 30 minutes. I had to repeat his symptoms to every person who entered the trauma room. Scott was not doing well. He was uncomfortable and angry that he had been taken to his least favorite medical facility by ambulance although he was still disoriented and didn't really know where he was. He would look at me with a vacant stare and every time I looked into his eyes, I grew more and more afraid. The look I have come to find comfort in was not there.

In the trauma room of the E.R. people came in and out. They took all his vitals and all the information I could give them. Then a doctor came into examine him. He said they needed to do a scan to know more about what was happening. Scott was then sent to get a CT. I waited alone.

While I was waiting, the hospital social worker came in, introduced herself and told me she was there for me. Doing the kind of social work I do for a living, I recognized and appreciated why she was there. But I have to say, it was not comforting to have a complete stranger, putting her hands on me, and trying to offer support. I found it completely annoying that she kept asking me who she could call for me, even after I told her none of our family lives here. I know they want people to have someone in those moments, but forcing it, wasn't going over very well and frankly not helpful!

This was the scariest night of my entire life so far. I had no idea what would happen. Scott came back from getting the CT scan. He was restless and sweating profusely. The technician gave me a cold cloth to press on his forehead. He sort of tossed and turned and grunted and moaned. He began a twitching thing with his eye. I said to the technician that he didn't look right. Sweat beads the size of small peas started forming faster than I could wipe them away. Then he started trembling and I was visibly upset. The technician came and looked at him.

Scott then had a grand-mal seizure. I had never in my life seen someone have a seizure like this. I didn't know at all what was happening.  His extremities became very tight. Both arms raised off the table and his wrists bent down as far as they could. Then his neck turned almost completely around, his eyes rolled back into his head. When he started foaming at the mouth, I screamed out, "Someone help him!"

At this point the doctor came in, put his hand on Scott's leg, looked at me as a glared at him and then told the technician to get me out of the room. Medical staff swooped in, and the social worker appeared to take take me down to a consultation room. I sobbed and sobbed. He was alone in the trauma room full of medical professionals, and I was alone in the consultation room with the social worker who didn't have a clue how to help me. Then another person came in and sat and looked like she didn't have a clue what to do. I knew if I didn't tell them I would call someone, they would never leave me alone and this would go very badly for all of us. So I picked up my phone and began dialing. 

I called the relief society president and asked her to send the missionaries to give Scott a blessing. Since we are LDS, this made the most sense at the time. My next call was to a very good friend of mine. She came and sat with me the rest of the night. What a trooper she is! It was now approaching 9pm. The social worker explained the seizure to me and said Scott was now stable. I could go back and be with him. My friend Christy and I went back to the trauma room and back to the nightmare that became my new life.

The hospital chaplain came in, introduced herself to me, and asked if she could pray with us. Missionaries came, offered a blessing and the doctor came back. He was very cold and detached from this situation. There was no understanding for what we were going through. If there was, he didn't show it. He basically told me that the CT showed a stroke that happened 2 days prior. "What?" I thought, this can't be right. He had no symptoms 2 days ago. Nothing! He then said they were sending him back to CT and this time they would do it with contrast, to try and rule out a tumor.

If it's not a stroke, it's a tumor. Either way, this was not a good place for either Scott or I to be. I had to brace myself for the worst. The CT with contrast was done. The doctor came back and said that usually if it's a tumor the contrast lights up the entire mass. That apparently didn't happen. So he said that most likely it was a stroke that occurred sometime on Saturday and symptoms showed up today. So they began treating him for a stroke without clot busting medication because they said it was a hemorrhagic stroke and blood thinners could cause more problems. So they started kepra for seizure control and said we had to wait to see how things turned out.

Another doctor came and told me that I should prepare for the worst. Often strokes like this are fatal and he asked if Scott had an advance directive. I asked if they could tell for certain that this was a stroke and not a brain tumor. He said the only way they could do that was with MRI. I thought well get one then! They didn't have an open MRI at the hospital and would not transport him to another facility to get it done. They admitted him to the hospital to ICU. This was 2 am.

We finally got to the ICU room and I left about 2:30 that morning. Scott was still disoriented and unaware of his surroundings. The doctor asked him if he knew where he was, and he said "Yes, at church." I had to laugh because I was certain he thought that because the missionaries had been there earlier. I was not permitted to stay in the room with him and sleep. So I went home to my children to try and get some rest.This day changed our lives forever and it could not be over fast enough.