August 10, August 18, and now August 31st.

I used to go to the gym 3 times a week, Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. I called it gym, but it’s more of a community center. I’ve practiced yoga at the gym at my work, and at some fitness centers, but none offered the challenge I needed as the Milpitas Sports Center.

The room was dark. We had just finished doing 13 sun salutations, and I was doing Warrior stance. When doing yoga, I become very immersed in my own world. Nothing and no one can get my attention, but myself and my breathing. I stared at myself in the mirror. My right hand could hardly join my left above my head. I tried reaching up, but the right arm stayed limp. My right leg could barely stay in place; it kept falling to the side. I couldn’t have run out of energy so fast, I was not even mid-way through the class.

I walked towards the door to get my energy drink. It was a long walk. My right foot began to drag on the floor. At one point, I had to use my hand to lift it up for the next step.  I fell down next to my gym bag. The phone was vibrating. I couldn’t reach for it. I didn’t have the energy to straighten up my leg even though I didn’t feel tired. I just didn’t feel anything. It was like I was watching a movie, with very little feeling being involved.

Fire Department came right away. I do owe these folks for coming to my rescue very promptly and for being the most caring. More caring than some of the nurses I’ve met. My blood pressure was 273/170.

In the ambulance on the way to Regional Medical Stroke Center, I had the IV in and I needed to pee real bad, and I was thinking how wrong the paramedic was to diagnose that I just had a stroke. I was the least concerned about my health. I wasn’t even aware of what was happening. I believed I was invincible, untouchable; no way any harm will come to me.

Things were happening real fast. I heard the nurse screaming “stroke alert” and people was moving to the side to let my gurney pass. Cuffs and stickers and needles were jammed into my body. And I kept begging people to let me use the bathroom. My bladder was about to burst.  The nurse on my right side yelled at me “you could die right now. We need to save your life first”. I was fidgeting, and she couldn’t get into my vein. I looked down at the sheet; it was wet with blood. Bad nurse!

My blood pressure at the ER was 230/170. CAT scan showed I had hemorrhage on the left side of the brain. 3 doctors came to “guess” the cause of my problem. The neurologist, Dr. Guisado, is the head of the Regional Medical Stroke Center. He greeted me to the center, saying he and I will become good friends since I refused to take medications therefore he will be treating me regularly. Whatever … I know his trick. As if some sarcasm from some unknown doctor  will get me to listen to him!

I stayed in the ICU for 3 nights. Every half hour during the first night, the nurse woke me up to test my facial and motor skills. I had to smile, read some stupid things, touch my nose, lift and hold the legs up. And then at 5 in the morning, some other nurse would come to draw more blood. And they draw blood 3 times a day. Am I a blood bank or what?

I felt the doctors were trying to scare me and give me a lesson by putting me in the ICU. I was feeling normal. Maybe I slept more, but it was because there was nothing else to do in the ICU. I wasn’t allowed to drink water because I was losing potassium too much too fast. The nurse brought over soup, and I grabbed the spoon in my fist, just like a toddler. My brain had the “nerves” to kill my learned skills for day-to-day operations! I forgot how to get the food to my mouth.  So I bent my face down to the soup bowl and jammed the food in my mouth. At the time,  I didn’t put much thought into that; because as soon as I switched the spoon to my left hand, I was able to feed myself normally. For every problem, there is a solution!

On the second day, I was trying to sit up by planting both feet on the bed and pushed myself up. My right leg was just lying there doing nothing. I picked up the leg, put it at an angular position, and pushed myself up again. The right leg flopped down on the bed like an overcooked spaghetti noodle. I tried moving the ankle. Nothing happened. Then and there I knew. I felt the agony of being fully conscious and intelligent yet trapped in a paralyzed body.  The first thought that crossed my mind was to throw something across the room. I needed to break something, but nothing was within reach. Then I thought of taking valium, being sedated for the rest of my life. That would surely keep me from being aware of my vegetated state of being. My mind was caught in the whirlwind of denial, why-me, self-pity, blaming fate, accepting fate. After about 10 minutes in that sinking state, I snapped out and knew I would fight this. I will not be in a sorry state. I will walk again.

I fought by telling Dr. Guisado I was ready to go home. He told me if I could get out of bed then I could go home. I moved my legs over to the bedside, and put both feet on the floor. I switched my weight to the legs, and crumbled down. So back to bed I went. One more night in the ICU :( I really couldn’t stand being in the hospital anymore. I couldn’t read because I was supposed to rest. I couldn’t talk to anybody, because cell phones are not allowed. I couldn’t walk around, because my legs were not obeying my wish.

They managed to keep me in the ICU for 4 nights. When I was finally transferred out to the regular ward, I got stubborn again and demanded to leave. I proved to them that I could manage walking around the floor by myself, with the walker of course.  I was able to convince the hall doctor to let me go. He didn’t sign my release papers until the next day.

I came home with a walker. Have you seen old, old folks moving the walker forward, and then taking a step by leaning on the walker? That was how I moved around. One small step at a time. I crawled up the stairs. Again one step at a time. Yet I refused to get a placard for the handicapped parking spot, so I would force myself to walk and get back to normal.

And as with everything else, shit happens and life moves on. With or without me. With or without you. Whether I accept fate and lose hope, or challenge fate and hope one day to walk normal again. We all have choices, and we’re responsible for the choice we take.

September has always represented Fall for me; and August 31st the end of the summer. And this year, the end of Summer also marks another beginning.