Nurses had just wheeled my husband away to do another test so that they could more accurately diagnose the bleed in his brain. Ten hours of non-stop adrenaline, the frightening atmosphere of urgency, and suddenly it was silent. All day, repeating in my head “You can’t leave me. You can’t leave us.” And I was alone. In his room. Holding his wedding ring.
My 32 year old husband had a stroke.
My strong, handsome, bearded, 32 year old, husband had a stroke. What was originally diagnosed as vertigo, was later discovered (with CT scan) to be an 11mm brain aneurism in his cerebellum. Unlike typical strokes, a bleed in the cerebellum causes constant dizziness, nausea and vomiting, blurred and double vision – Jason describes it as the worst non-stop hangover he’s ever had. He’s home now after three days in Neuro ICU and six days in the hospital. We are very lucky. HE is VERY lucky. Again, unlike typical stroke victims, Jay has full mental performance and motor skills. He knows who we are. He remembers Caroline. He doesn’t need me to dress him, or feed him. This could be SO much worse.
The next step is to have an exploratory procedure done called an angiogram. This test will hopefully answer some of our questions, like “Why did this happen? Could he have another stroke again? Soon, or years from now? Could it be much worse next time? Is there anything that can be done to prevent it from happening again?” In the mean time, Jason is recovering very slowly. Painfully, frustratingly, slowly. We’ve received, and continue to receive, SO much help from friends and family. Our people are amazing. We are overwhelmingly, immeasurably, grateful. But this is hard. I went from co-parenting to single parenting, plus caring for my husband, plus the daily logistics, chores, and cleaning to be done for a five month old and two adults, plus working full-time. PLUS the sadness and helplessness of watching the person I love most in this world suffer, with no end to look forward to.
This is hard. This is really hard.