Dog Eat Blog

I got up, flipped on the 'puter and started checking my email. I cracked my neck, since it was a little stiff, and almost immediately I got what felt like eye-strain x 1,000,000 and the strong feeling that I should lie down. So I did, which was good, since I felt a wave of "passing out, now" wash over me, leaving me in a cold sweat. (8:10am)

I may or may not have actually passed out, but I spent a moment or two assessing whether I was dead. I didn't seem to be, so I got up to get a glass of water and seemed to have trouble walking...and the entire left side of my face was numb, like someone rubbed it down with a chloraseptic cough drop. (8:20am)

Freaking out a little, I sat on the couch and ran myself through some paces: Can I move my hands and feet? Yep. Am I numb anywhere else? Nope. Can I speak clearly? Yep. So I, being me, jumped online to check the symptoms. WebMD (this will factor later) listed a handful of things, all of which had "And you should get immediate medical attention" at the end, so I called my mom and told her I needed to go to the emergency room, which we did. (8:40am)

I was across the street to Swedish Ballard and in a bed in the ER by 8:50am, and being run through the Stroke Protocol (strength testing, speech testing, reading ability, "What's your name? What's today's date? Who's the President? ((which my answer to should have indicated that I was doing pretty well, thanks)), CT Scan and IV prep). I asked the CT Tech if she'd run really fast with me on the gurney and then let go. Guess what she said?

And then there was much waiting. And some barfing. And a turkey sandwich with WAY too much mustard. And some more waiting. In the end, the scan didn't show anything, so the ER Doc was at a loss as to what may have caused the symptoms. I seemed mostly ok, except for the facial numbness and listing hard to the left when I walked, but :: shrug ::

So he sent me home with instructions to get in to see my doctor ASAP and have things looked at more closely. He also printed off some information about some of the issues I was having and their possible causes. Printed from WebMD. I felt a little vindicated, or something.

Sunday night saw me lounging in bed with my mom and Airplane Guy dancing attendance. She made chicken soup and he brought me a Frosty, so I was in very good hands indeed.

Monday morning, I made an appointment to see another doctor at my regular clinic since my regular doctor couldn't fit me in. Which turned out to be a good thing. He said my symptoms were "fascinating" and that he wanted me to talk to a neurologist. Immediately. So off I went to the ER at the Swedish Cherry Hill campus (which used to be Providence Hosptial, for those who remember) for a CT scan with contrast (ook), followed by another turkey sandwich (with NO mustard, thank god), followed by an MRI*, followed by admittance to the Stroke ward. All of this was accompanied by a LOT of head scratching, and saying my symptoms were "fascinating" since they weren't finding anything wrong, and yet I had these symptoms. And I'm too young for these sorts of things to happen, and had precisely NO standard risk factors. I just told them that I've always been precocious.

By midnight I was in a bed, had my vital signs checked for the 40-billionth time, and agreed to full recesutation attempts, should I code. Or something like that. And then slept like shit, since I was really pretty hungry, and they woke me up every four hours to check my vitals. Which I totally understand, and yet how is a patient supposed to get better if you NEVER LET THEM SLEEP?

Tuesday morning saw the eventual arrival of someone from the Stroke Team who hauled in a computer to show the pictures from my MRI. The good news is, I have a brain. The bad news is that there were three small strokes on my cerebellum. So now the focus turned to finding out how they got there.

Tuesday became The Day of Tests. After a nice brekkie, I was visited by the Transcranial Doppler Fairy** (no signs of particles in my blood stream, a hole in the valve between heart chambers that should have closed after birth or snow showers), the Heart Ultrasound Fairy (all other valves and bits and bobs of the heart seemed to be working just fine, thankyew), the Blood Lab Demon (well, okay, she was really nice and really good, but took about 27 vials of blood so I can't quite elevate her to Fairy status) and the MRA*** Transport Guy, Rico (Suave), who took me down for another scantastic adventure in the Imagery Bowels of the hospital (in a wheelchair this time. I asked if he wanted to race. Guess what he said?). In between there was much waiting, checking of vital signs...oh, and a visit from Physical Therapy. This was especially exciting since my ability to walk without listing had increased DRAMATICALLY from the day before. As in, I was a teensy bit woobly, but could take several laps around the nursing station without falling, clutching the wall or needing assistance. I felt quite chuffed.

The important thing to note, here, is that Airplane Guy had surprised me by showing up around 5:30 or so, with flowers, and hung out for a few hours. Which, in itself is wonderful. Not only did he hold my hand through the Great Bloodletting, and was there when the Neurologist showed up (AG pointed out that the Good Doctor was Polish, and therefore I was in Very Good Hands). But what he didn't expect is that The Girlz would be showing up as well (with the bestest Get Well card EVAR, as created by Isabelle - 10, and Sadie - 2). And just before they got there I'd be whisked off to MRA land and he'd be left alone with them for Quite Some Time. The reports from both sides, though, are that everyone thought the other was lovely, and that no one was particularly hard on anyone else, and they got along swimmingly. Which is about what I expected, so yay!

So, AG left, and The Girlz left and I "went to sleep" such as I could. The nighttime Nursing Assistant pointed out that I was breathing at 100%, and told me I passed! But she still had to wake me up to do it. Oh...and then I had to get up to be weighed. At 5am. Like it would change if they waited two hours. :: grump ::

Which brings us to Wednesday. They'd screwed up one of the tests on the MRA the night before, so I knew I'd have to get it re-taken. Which enthused me not at all. The MRI machine is a little tube, and you wear a cage over your face and it's loud. The MRA machine is a littler tube, and you wear a hockey mask cage over your face (I asked if I could have an axe for my obvious killing spree that would follow. Guess what they said?) and it's louder. Oh, and just for fun, instead of re-doing the one test, the radiologist threw on a few more, just 'cause he could. :: sigh :: And even though I was walking like a hot damn, they took me down on a gurney. So I asked the porter to run really fast and let go. Guess what he said? These people are no fun.

More waiting, and then another CT scan, which made no sense to me, really. But another trip on a gurney and another chance to surf thwarted by humorless drones that just ferry people across The River Swedish. Alas.

By this time, I was READY TO GO HOME. And it looked like that would be possible. But first, I needed to have a visit by Occupational Therapy who sort of observed me taking a shower (all by myself! Standing up!) and talked to me a bit about living by myself and moving around my own kitchen and stuff. Eventually, I had an RN from the Stroke Team come by and explain what they found:

I had what they call a "dissection" in my left vertebral artery**** which likely created a place where a clot could form. Cracking my neck on Sunday morning probably shoogled that clot loose and sent it (or them - I was unclear) joyfully on it's/their way to my cerebellum where it/they caused three tiny strokes - two on the left side and one on the right. I'd be put on blood thinners for a bit, and then re-scanned, but otherwise my symptoms were fairly likely to diminish to the point of disappearing, and that as soon as everyone who needed to signed off on their part of the protocol, I could bust out of that joint. This was at, like, noon. The neurologist came by a bit later to say more or less the same thing. The internist (who was supposed to be the "whole person" caretaker, but I barely saw her) finally showed up around dinner time, explained my drug fun a bit more, and then left.

My assigned nurse, Willem, who was a COMPLETE GEM, was the one to really explain to me WTF, and bust his ass to get a hold of people to answer some questions. After a bit more waiting in fervent hope for answers, I finally was set free around 8pm, promptly came home and let a bunch of people know what had been going on. Like you all.

On Thursday I was able to keep an appointment with my regular doctor that I had scheduled a few weeks ago, which was a Good Thing^tm, and she explained a bunch of stuff even more clearly, and I'll be seeing her a lot in the next little while. She was pleased to hear that I heartily endorsed her colleague that had gotten this whole ball rolling - he's a new doctor at that clinic and was brilliant through this and another thing I ended up seeing him for a couple of weeks ago. Anyone need a Family Practice physician in Seattle? I'd recommend this guy in a heartbeat.

Meanwhile, I get to shoot myself up with blood thinner for a couple of days while the Rat Poision Pills ramp up (joy), but my life can return to more or less normal starting now. No activities that have a high possibility of injury, and no getting pregnant (as if!), but everything else is Business As Usual. My employer is astoundingly supportive about all of this, and our benefits are generous - I don't think I'll take too big of a financial hit, all things considered, and I can take my time getting back to work.



*"Magnetic Rammstein Imaging" - I swear to you that about half of the noise sounded like German Heavy Metal Guitar chords. I was saddened by the fact that I could neither tell anyone that at the time, or even giggle about it, because that would move my head and I would have been stuck in the tube for way longer.

**Transcranial Doppler - quite possibly the coolest name for a piece of hospital equipment I've ever heard. I can NEVER say it without giggling.

***See MRI, above

****Anatomy Lesson: there are two arteries that run from your heart around the back of your neck and up through the top vertebrae on either side before converging into one artery that feeds your head. My dissection was actually in T1, which didn't seem to make much sense but, then, I never do things the way I'm supposed to.



So, I'm home, and in good shape and feeling fairly decent, if a little tired. Being in otherwise fantastic health worked to my benefit in this case, but I'm no longer permitted to crack my neck and I have been instructed to avoid the Eeeevil Crackopractors as well. And massage might be out for a while as well, which makes me sad. But I have some of the most amazing friends/family on God's Green Earth, a solid emotional support network that I now know I can rely on, the kewlest doctor in the universe and a boyfriend who clearly isn't easily freaked out by tragedy befalling his girl.

I am so very, VERY blessed.

I now open the floor for questions...