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I am a 32-year-old East-Indian stroke survivor living in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Thirteen years ago, back in 1990 I suffered from a hemorrhagic stroke, which left me with left sided paralysis, it was caused by a disease called Wegeners Granulomotosis which is a type of Vasculitis (inflammation of the blood vessels). At the time I was living in a town called Slough, which is in the County of Berkshire, England. My disease caused me various complicated health problems e.g. Epilepsy, Kidney failure etc. I was in a pretty bad way and stayed in intensive care for about 10 days. My life was suddenly turned upside-down; I had no idea to what extent I was paralysed. Because of my other health complications, I had no physiotherapy for 5-6 months after my stroke. When I did start physiotherapy I had to learn to sit up straight, to stop dribbling, (this was the most upsetting of all, especially in front of strangers) I could not walk, so I left hospital in a wheelchair, I had my 19th birthday in hospital, my hair had all fallen out due to the strong medications for my disease, so I left hospital looking like a freak, or so I thought, on numerous medications and a feeding tube in my stomach. The months that followed were rigorous sessions of physiotherapy and in the beginning of 1991 I was admitted into a rehabilitation clinic in Oxford for intense physiotherapy and occupational therapy. Here I stayed for a period of 6 months as an in-patient. I left Rivermead Rehabilitation Centre in Oxford and was able to walk with a cane, and wearing a splint on my leg, I had no recovery in my arm at all. Since then I moved to Vancouver, BC and have been continuing with physiotherapy treatment regularly. At the moment I am working part-time as a Medical Office Assistant and have learned to type with one hand quite accurately. My memory is improving all the time, I

It was the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend and we had gone to the movies. When we came home, I fell asleep quickly, and in a few minutes I woke up with a bad case of the hiccups. I asked Gary, my significant other at that time, to get me some sugar, which has cured my hiccups in the past. "I can't understand you; you're slurring your words." he said. I repeated it, yet he still didn't know what I meant. He also noted that I had a severe droop on the left side of my face, announcing, "I think you're having a stroke," he said. "I'm going to call 911." "Don't be ridiculous, I'm just groggy from sleeping," I insisted, thinking to myself that he must be losing his mind; after all, I was just 55. "If you call 911, I'm never speaking to you again," I hollered. That he understood. He hollered back: "If I don't call 911, you may never speak to anyone again!" I tried to get out of bed, but I couldn't stand and fell to the floor. That's when I realized he might be right. He put me back into bed, called 911 and we waited. The paramedics arrived in just a few minutes and took my vital signs. I felt fine. There I was, lying in my leopard print nylon nightgown, being lifted onto a gurney by two strong young people. We directed them to take me to Abington's emergency room, about 25 minutes away at normal speed. Although I had had a horrendously painful headache for the prior three days-worse than any migraine I had ever suffered, I felt just fine physically. But I was beginning to get scared. It was after midnight when we reached the ER. The staff contacted the neurologist on call, Dr. James Cook, who, it seemed to me, was there in a flash. In the meantime, I went to radiology for a series of tests, including a CAT scan, which showed that I had had a stroke. When I asked Dr. Cook if the stroke were mild or severe, without hesitation he answered, "Severe." (Now, of course, I knew Gary was right.) There was damage to two thirds of the right hemisphere of my brain. After explaining the risks, Dr. Cook administered Tissue Plasminogen Activator (TPA ). Amazingly, my symptoms disappeared. I was then admitted to the intensive care unit, where in the morning I suffered another stroke, and then spent the next 5 days being monitored. I also learned that the stroke had been precipitated by a dissection of my right carotid artery -- usually a fatal event. Clearly, I probably wouldn't be alive to tell this story if Gary had not been familiar with the symptoms of a stroke. And if the hospital didn't have a stroke center capable of administering TPA and dealing with the event on an emergency basis. I consider myself one of the lucky ones. Although the stroke has left me with fatigue and low energy, I am back on the tennis court and leading a near-normal life. Not knowing what the future might hold for me (would I end up an invalid from a second stroke?), I suggested to Gary that he may want to move on. He wouldn't hear of it. Four months later, after being together for 12 years, Gary and I were married in a small wedding at our home. This article was originally published in "Touching Your Life," a publication of Abington Memorial Hospital, Abington, PA.

On a day that is meant for joy I had anything but. On December 25th 2000 I had a stroke, that

I had my stroke on Ash Wednesday, (Feb. 21st) 1996. I was at work when it happened, and because of some basic medical knowledge, I knew what was happening. I had gone to the copier and started to feel like I was going to faint. I walked into the break room, heard a "rushing" sound in my ears. I told my boss to call 911 and my husband; then I fell over to my left, I couldn't swallow and my vision was messed up. I knew I had had a stroke. I was brought to our local hospital and I remember arriving, but I don't remember anything else. No tests - nothing. I was then transferred to the University Hospital in our area, where I'm told the "fun" began. I write "fun" because I have no memory of the next three weeks. My husband called my family together because my neurologist wasn't sure I'd pull through. In the ER the doctors placed a shunt in the front of my skull, put me on a ventilator, and inserted a nasal-gastric tube. I was then sent to Intensive Care. After I was weaned off the ventilator, I had a tracheotomy, and a more permanent feeding tube called a "peg." Everyone knew I was going to pull through when I ripped out everything; the shunt, trach and all IV's. Of course I had to be placed in restraints after that, and apparently I wasn't amused. This whole time as I wrote earlier, I have no memory of. What I do remember are what I call "dreams." In my head I was everywhere but a hospital. (Must have been the morphine!) After I "came to" I was transferred to rehab. At this point I couldn't even sit up without help, couldn't speak because of the trach, and was getting all my nourishment through a tube. My days consisted of two hours of physical therapy, two hours of speech therapy, and two hours of occupational therapy. They were all relentless and I'm better off for it today. My entire hospital stay, including rehab, was two months and two days. I've relearned how to walk, talk and write. I came home in a wheelchair, which lasted about a month; I then used a cane, and even though my balance is gone I don't use any type of aid when I walk now. It has now been almost eight years. I'm unable to drive or work outside my home. My independence has been lost and I think that's one of the hardest losses I've faced. I am alive though. A decent sense of humor has helped - immeasurably. I'm married for the 2nd time and have two children, Lisa 21, and Corey 18, by my 1st marriage. I have two labs also - mother and son, yellow and black respectively.

June 2, 2001. I was a Pharmacist employed by CVS in the downtown Ephrata store. I have been in this field for over 40 years, and this pharmacy for about 20 years and love my work. The hours can be long and hectic as any healthcare providers can be. On June 2, 2001, after working a particularly long stretch I had a day off and my wife, Connie, and I went to a local nursery to buy some flowers for the yard and pond since it was spring and we love working around the yard. Connie was doing the picking and I was pushing our cart when all of a sudden I couldn

It has been nearly six years since my stroke. It fades to a blurry memory. I can barely remember what it felt like to be fully able. I remember the stressful life I led. Always running to and from the office where I worked at a job that I was not always passionate about. I know now that returning to work after my stroke was a very unrealistic goal. I learned that all strokes are not alike. One stroke survivor cannot compare their recovery with that of another. To evaluate our progress based on the progress of another is completely unfair and unrealistic. My stroke occurred on Good Friday in 1997. I was 42 years old and trying to live my life all at once -- working full days and taking university courses at night. I also wanted to balance my life by getting more exercise. I wanted to have fun too. I chose a sport that I had great passion for when I was younger: equestrian riding. I am grateful to have done this when I had the ability. I decided to take my lesson on Good Friday because my husband had to work that day instead of Easter Monday. In hindsight it was a lucky thing I went riding that day. At least I wasn't alone when the stroke occurred. Like many of my friends who are stroke survivors, I was very surprised to have a stroke at such a young age. I had no apparent risk factors although my father had heart disease and died of cardiac arrest in 1995. I never smoked and had good blood pressure and cholesterol levels. I was not obese and I had no signs of diabetes. I was very health conscious and strove to live a healthy lifestyle as much as possible during the 1990's rat race. My mother-in-law died of stroke only months before mine, yet I never understood what stroke was. It was something that happened to old people. I had my own problems with stress management, but this was typical in my place of employment. Twice, my body had given me warnings. About five years prior to my stroke I had two burnouts, which forced me to take a few months sick leave. But everyone at work lived under the same stressful conditions. Could stress have contributed to my risk for stroke? Later I learned that I have a type A personality. This may not have been a good match for the life I was leading. Genes play a large role in our health. My father had diabetes and three heart attacks. I also had a high level of homocysteines, which caused my blood to thicken when my stroke occurred. Later we found out that a congenital defect in an artery caused a blockage about the size of a toothpick. It could have happened years before. I was able bodied for over forty years. For that I am grateful. Easter arrived early in 1997. Good Friday fell on March 28th. Mom was still in Florida. My husband Carl worked that day so I decided to take my Sunday riding lesson on Friday in order to be free for Easter celebrating. Spring was in the air. The snow had nearly melted and I felt like going jogging just before I left for my lesson. It seemed a good idea to warm up with a good brisk walk and jog around my neighborhood. I took a taxi to the stables just outside of town. I was given a different horse than usual. He was not happy about being tacked up for a lesson. He did everything he could to prevent me from getting his bridle on his head. I think this horse had psychic abilities because he was not behaving as I had expected. About thirty minutes into the lesson I had a strange sensation, a sound in my head like a drill. My vision dimmed, my left side weakened and then when the horse bucked I fell off. I remember hearing the paramedics looking me over and my friends trying to revive me but I knew something was not good when they found I was paralyzed on one side. Right away they took me in the ambulance to hospital where I was asked all the standard questions to assist in the diagnosis. I had given the correct responses but they confirmed that it was over three hours since my stroke occurred. I was told I was comatose, but I was very aware of family and friends trying to comfort me but the details are no longer clear. These memories are interrupted by images of a light in my eyes and nurses asking me to not bite the ventilator tube. I was highly medicated and unable to communicate well so I resorted to trying to write messages on my sister's hand. My right side worked fine but I only wanted to sleep. In fact, when I got a phone in my room often I would drift off to sleep during a conversation and leave the receiver off the hook. I missed my husband terribly and was compelled to call him at all hours of the night just to talk. The medication was probably the cause of my silliness and I would frequently make the nursing staff laugh at my comments. I must have been in denial about my condition because I was very concerned about calling my employer to report my absence from work. An orderly informed me that my office would be closed on Easter Monday so I had nothing to worry about. I was still living with the same agenda as before my stroke. I wanted to call my riding teacher to cancel my lesson the next weekend in case I was not able to ride yet. I seemed to be joking about everything until my doctor brought me back to reality. He asked me if I knew what happened and I said that I understood that I had a little stroke. This seemed to annoy him and he told me that it was NOT a little stroke. It was a Big Stroke and that I had a long road ahead of me and that I needed to begin physical therapy as soon as possible even if it meant doing it in my bed. This guy was really gentle in the ER but with this he made things very clear for my immediate future. Soon I would meet my physical therapist, Josee, who met me in the PT room and helped me from my wheelchair to the exercise bed. I needed to learn how to pivot and transfer from my bed to a chair. After a few sessions I began to trust my weak leg to support me. I could actually put my full weight on the left side without collapsing. Along with PT I needed occupational therapy to learn how to cope with daily living activities. Up until then a nurse had been spoon-feeding me my meals because it was difficult for me to direct a spoon or fork into my mouth without losing the contents. Before my stroke I showered everyday. After the third day I was told that a family member could assist me to have a bath. I was transported in a canvas hammock Free Willy style. My husband agreed to give me a hand with the bath. I didn't know that this would be my last bath sitting in a tub for a long time. My occupational therapist, Nathalie, gave me a session to learn how to use a wheelchair. OT was less motivating and harder on my ego than PT. I felt that I was not performing well. I had poor control of the wheelchair and it embarrassed me. I also had some neuropsychological work to do. I had a significant left side neglect, which caused me to ignore my left side. People noticed that I would write only on the right half of a page of paper; I would also eat only from the right side of my plate. Once I had improved to a level where my medical condition was no longer critical the hospital social worker suggested that I consider transferring to a hospital which could better help me recover as much functionality as possible. I was very enthusiastic in spite of the condescending comparison to Boot Camp by my neurologist. I was up for the challenge. There were no facilities of this kind close to home but the social worker applied on my behalf to a Rehab hospital in Montreal. Carl could visit me in the evenings on his way home from work. My Mom and sister could visit during the day. This was a big adventure. All I could think about was that after a stint in this place I would be cured and recovered to my old self. The sooner the better. When I was admitted the rooms on the fifth floor where I would be staying had been freshly painted a lovely peach color. I felt better already. I arrived just in time for lunch. It was quite good compared to what was served in the acute care hospital. Later I met the nurse in charge of my case, a nursing assistant, the resident physician and a neurologist. They were part of my team who met once every two weeks to discuss my progress. Unfortunately I would never be invited to attend the meetings. The following day I began with therapy evaluations. I had my first shower and my attention skills were tested. I heard comments on how I had some difficulties organizing myself and that sequences were also a problem. I was challenged to dress myself without help and it was pure torture to struggle into my clothes with only one arm functioning. I felt very discouraged at my performance. I felt as though I had no strategizing skills to figure out how to manage tasks effectively. I felt very sad. The rehab hospital is where I learned that I needed to become more patient -- patient to get well, patient to see my friends and loved ones, and patient to have a life again. My first experience with a stroke support group was very difficult. Mom came with me. We learned about the stages of grief. We also learned about our disabilities. It was said that the stroke in the right brain could cause one to lose musical ability. This was extremely upsetting to me because I had studied music for most of my life and had been blessed with a very good ear. It was painful to imagine my life without music. Then I began to cry. Crying is a very normal part of stroke. I just could not talk about my stroke without tearing up. It seemed I was crying all the time until I was discharged. After a month in rehab my therapists began to talk to me about going home on weekends. I needed to master specific skills before this would be practical. Our house has two stories so I needed to learn to climb stairs. Learning these skills made me feel encouraged because I perceived I was really getting better and would be living independently again. I enjoyed walking with a quad-cane. One day Carl stopped by while I was in Physical Therapy and I was thrilled to show him that I could now walk and climb up and down the stairs. I also had to learn how to get into a car. The first weekend I came home I had company visiting and my mother wisely offered to accommodate my friend so that Carl and I could get used to all the challenges openly and frankly. We soon realized that wheelchairs are difficult to maneuver in a small house. In my own home I was confident enough to dispense with wheels in favor of a quad cane. Carl was understandably tense because he worried about how he could protect me from falls. Our activities that weekend were limited but it worked out well. Future weekends challenged us with my fall in the bathroom and my fear that the nurses would notice the bruise on my shoulder and recommend that I not be allowed to come home. I learned by this experience how important it is for me to wear my brace on my paralyzed leg. I hate it but I comply. Those weekends were stressful but they ended up allowing me an earlier discharge than expected. Government budget cuts probably helped make the discharge happen more than anything I did. It was summer now. The good weather would aid in my rehabilitation as I could walk safely outdoors. I was ecstatic. There was only one glitch. I was not recovered completely. In my prior to stroke view you were supposed to be cured 100% when you were released from a hospital. The next months would be very emotional, as I continued my rehab as an outpatient. I was reminded often that up to a year post-stroke improvement was possible. My arm was not improving very much and I began to grieve its loss of function. I could no longer sit at the piano and spin out a tune. I tried to compromise with pieces for the right hand only but it just didn't fly. I resented that the therapists were more focused on my cognitive difficulties and practically no time was spent on treating my arm and hand. I would spend about six more months as an outpatient at the Phase 2 level after which I became discouraged and wanted my life back. I needed to find purpose in life especially since I would not be returning to work. My therapists agreed that I would be hitting the dreaded plateau soon so they told me about Phase 3. In this phase one learns to return to the outside world again and learn to live independently. To maximize my rehab at this phase I would be referred to a Rehabilitation Center for OT and Neurophysiology. I was assigned to Nancy, a very compassionate Occupational Therapist. She treated me with such respect that in spite of my frequent tears I actually had some fun learning how to operate in a kitchen again and make my bed. She also suggested that I join an art group to develop my creativity. What a concept! God was opening a window after he closed a door. The art teacher, Micheline, encouraged me constantly and when the traveling became difficult I found an art teacher in my town. I have been painting ever since. It was only in Phase 3 that my depression was addressed. Depression is a frequent and normal part of stroke. Mine kicked in when I began to realize that my recovery was plateauing. I was fortunate to find a psychotherapist who was familiar with stroke survivors and the challenges they face. I learned how to plan and prioritize my activities and to understand perceptions others have about my situation. Lifelong lessons indeed. In phase 3 one can take a drivers test again in an adapted car. I did not pass. I don't mind because I have found a dynamic service in our town where volunteers drive me when I need transportation to doctor's appointments. We also have an adapted transportation service so I am able to come and go without depending too much on others who have been wonderful about providing transport. I had a visit from a nurse who represented my insurance company. I will be forever grateful for her advice. Up until her visit I was expecting to return to work. I suppose that the grief process needed to finish before I would accept an early retirement. She told me that some of my recovery was very good and that some of it was less encouraging. She told me that I would be advised to take a long-term disability from work and spend my energy focusing on maximizing my quality of life. I was fortunate to have this type of insurance. I would never be happy working as I had before my stroke. Because of my disabilities I would never be on an even playing field. Just commuting to work would be a major problem. If ever I was to have another stroke I may have lost option and the benefit of long-term disability. This was just not worth the risk. I decided I would re-invent myself. I am a work in progress. I found myself a new career as a volunteer for The Stroke Network. I have learned more about business there than I did after many years at my old job. I am out of the stressful corporate culture. I can work at my own pace. I can pursue my interests and run our home on my terms. My husband has been a wonderful support during my recovery, as have all the members of our family. In summer I love to garden. There are ways to make gardening possible for people with limited mobility so I have embraced container gardening. With the help of my brother-in-law we added a large deck to the back of our home. It allows me to spend time outdoors in the summer. I have also learned how to cook again. So has my husband. This is where pacing, planning and prioritizing come in to play. Basically, life after stroke is creating a lifestyle that is possible and realistic for the way one's abilities and interests drive them. I miss the spontaneity I used to enjoy but most things I miss can be realized with planning. We must never give up. I chose to take joy. I have come to believe that in order to be happy one has to live one's best life. To me this means no longer expecting perfection but instead living on my own terms and squeezing as much living into whatever part of my body is working. I have to remember that my stroke was a personal tragedy but also that it could have been much worse. I did not lose everything. Had I not suffered the stroke I would never have known how much I am loved. I have made many good friends from Internet stroke support. My work at the Stroke Network has made me feel appreciated and worthy of the respect that I need. I never give up hope of a full recovery but I have learned how to live with my disabilities. I am able to live with what I have in this moment. It can only get better.

In March 1990 I had two strokes. They happened on the same day, and on the same side of my body. The first stroke hit about 1.15am. I went by ambulance to our hospital about 25 miles away and went straight to the emergency ward where I laid on a bed for about six hours before being sent to a ward with an empty bed. About 30 minutes later the second stroke hit, and it was a dandy! The whole right side of my body was completely dead. I wasn't very happy with my situation, nor do I remember much about those first two or three days. A very pleasant physiotherapist evaluated my chances of recovery. I made the grade and was transferred to the Rehab ward for rehabilitation treatment. After forty days in the hospital I was discharged, being able to walk and talk well enough to go home where I worked hard at further improvement. Within four months my wife Dottie and I were on our way to a three-week stay in Ireland! And it was great therapy! Everywhere you go in Ireland you are either going up or down steps! It was excellent exercise and very helpful. I was fortunate to make a very good recovery. It has been so successful most people cannot tell which side of my body was affected. Twelve years later, except for the fact I have limited daily energy, I'm very happy with my lot. I had a pacemaker implant in March 1993 and since then my condition is very stable. There is much more I can tell you about my self-invented exercises and encounters but I'll save that for another time! As a result of all this I have visited stroke patients at my hospital every week for the past eleven years. Our stroke recovery group has grown as a result of my contacts. In 1990 there were about twelve "strokers," now there are over twenty-five! I am a very fortunate person!

It was in 1975 that I gave up smoking (cold turkey) and immediately began to gain weight. Obviously I needed to exercise and began walking, first short distances but eventually for periods of over one hour. Eventually my fitness got to the point that walking did not seem to be enough and therefore I began a regime of jogging and running until I reached the stage where I was ready and wanted to run marathons. By 1992 I had completed 9 marathons and decided at I would run one more to make up 10. I started training hard but one day I found that after a kilometre I was having difficulty breathing and was reduced to a walk. This happened every day that I was training but I could not work out the reason. Eventually one Saturday morning I was doubled up with severe pain in my heart region and almost collapsed. When the pain had gone I started running again only for the same pain to return. I returned home believing the pain came from my heart and went to see my doctor. He confirmed that I had blocked arteries and prescribed a "puffer" to take whenever I had the pain. He also arranged for me to have a series of tests. The upshot of all the tests that I had was to have a heart bypass operation which I did in late July 1993, just a few days before my 60th birthday. However before this, on 17th March 1993 I retired from my job as Manager of the Trade/Tariff Division in the New Zealand Customs Service. I chose 17th March because of my Irish background. Two days after my heart bypass operation, in front of my wife who was at my bedside virtually the whole time I was in hospital, I had my stroke. Of course I cannot remember any of this but my wife yelled, yes yelled, for a nurse and she and the doctors did what they could to minimize the problem. When I awoke the next day I could not remember where I was and even did not know my wife

Picture of a C-5 cargo transport viewed through a bullet hole at Baghdad Airport in Iraq, 2002.

Lightning show.

Cloud over a mountain.

Weather front moving in.

A shark in the surfer's wave!

Grabbing the sun!

With the 1st Infantry Division, Fort Riley, Kansas 1976 Steve Mallory

Steve Mallory months before stroke in 1994. I am inspecting our Fan Reversers on the then new A-330 Airbus at Airbus in Toulouse France.

I had my stroke in June of 1994 at age 36. I was in France on business. The stroke started with dizziness/vertigo while in bed on a Friday morning. Saturday after dinner it hit with a minor but still scary force. I was fortunate that a few of my colleagues were at dinner with me and they immediately called an ambulance and I was rushed to the hospital. I thought it was only fatigue. I had been working 12 hour days and was on the edge of burning out. The next night the full force stroke hit. Luckily I was already in the hospital. The stroke was an inner tear of the left vertebral artery and it caused a brainstem stroke. The tear blocked the blood from flowing in the artery. The tear repaired itself but the damage was done. The stroke severely affected me as it caused total paralysis; quadriplegia. Only my eyes could move and only then from side to side, I couldn't talk either. What made this nightmare worse was that I was in a French hospital. I love France but their hospitals are nothing like the United States. Besides having a huge communication problem I was not able to talk to them but could not understand them as well. I was treated to a tracheotomy without my knowledge that it was about to happen. I cannot blame them though they could not communicate with me either and they were doing it to save my life. After two weeks there and another three weeks at a hospital in the states I finally went to a rehabilitation hospital for two months. Luckily, work was paying for all of this, we were very fortunate. They flew my wife to France, paid for everything while we were there and then when we first returned kept paying her hotel bill while I was at the other hospital in the states. Four days before my discharge at the rehab hospital my arm started to move. It progressed for several months after that. Just about everything started some slight movement. My swallowing was improving too. Although I'm still quadriplegic, I can raise my arms off the armrests and up from down by my sides (or by the wheels). My legs are getting strong too. I can stand up (with assistance). I hope to do more things because of this improvement with my physical condition. I regained my speech in January 95 but it's still dysarthic, meaning that all of my tongue and facial muscles are extremely weak. This causes difficulty with forming words to pronounce them properly. This coupled with my weak breathing, caused by the quadriplegia, adds up to a speech problem that even few Speech Language Therapists could imagine. Although my speech is very soft at least I can communicate. Eating has improved greatly also. I can eat and drink just about anything now. It is a big relief from pureed foods. I had therapy three times/week (for almost three years). I was happy to now be able to tell my therapists how I felt. I was not able to for a long time. I could tell it was hard for my therapists to know how to treat me. I tried to give them feedback when I could. As long as improvement continues I'll be happy. You don't realize what you take for granted until something like this happens to you. My two girls, ages 15 and 18, are adapting to their new version of me pretty good. My wife of 20 plus years has been excellent and is always there for me. I always look at things that they could be worse... they were.