This is not a time period in my life that I like to relive, and I try not to even think about it, except to encourage others in the same situation or when I give thanks that it all turned out the way it did.
My father was never one to visit the doctor. In fact, I only remember him visiting the doctor once during my life before 2004, and in 2004 I was 33 years old. I won’t go into the order of events that got us to the hospital that night, only that we got there and discovered that my father was in the process of surviving a hemorrhagic stroke. I don’t say that he SUFFERED the stroke. I say that he SURVIVED the stroke, because from the moment we entered the door until this very moment, nearly seven years later, that is what he did and is doing.
There are two main kinds of strokes, I’ve learned. Blockages and bleeds. What he had was a bleed, caused by high blood pressure. There are several areas in the brain that can be the location of the stroke. His was in the area of his brain that controls autonomic functions…breathing and heartbeat and all those vital things that keep us alive.
We were told when he was admitted to the ICU in the Neuroscience Department at Gwinnett Medical Center that 95 percent of people that have the type of stroke that he did in that area of the brain never make it to the hospital, but for the lucky 5 percent that do, they almost always make a full recovery. So if you are a gambling person and are planning a stroke, you’d better think this kind through very carefully. Odds are you won’t make it, but if you do, then it’s the best kind of stroke to have.
These statistics might sound pretty grim, and of course, they did to us then, especially when complications arose and he was fighting an infection that could not be found and was making no sense when he talked to us, if he talked at all. It seemed he had gone to a place that we could not reach, and I thought of all the things that made my father my Daddy…were they lost forever? Would he make it back to the person he had been just one day earlier, or would my children never know the brilliance of that man?
Over the next few days a wonderful team of heroes worked tirelessly to find the source of the infection. It turned out to be a simple gallbladder attack, one that more than likely caused his blood pressure to rise to the level it did to cause the stroke in the blood vessels weakened by the diabetes. Nurse Ron was the one who insisted on the gallbladder ultrasound and who told us that if that was the cause, he’d be on the road to recovery within hours. Nurse Beverly took my mother aside and told her that she had had a special talk with God and that He was not prepared for my father’s arrival just yet. Ron and Beverly were both right. Within hours of the surgery, his fever was gone and he was up and talking.
It might sound like this was the happy ending, but it wasn’t quite there yet. We still had the stroke to deal with, and when I say he was up and talking he was, only he was speaking in Japanese and none of us could understand it. They call this Aphasia, a common effect of stroke a condition where language is altered. Some forget how to talk. Others confuse words. Daddy switched over to Japanese. None of us spoke Japanese, and the grandchildren certainly couldn’t understand why Dan Dan was speaking to them in this other language. Days went by and the Japanese language gave way to English, only it was almost as hard to understand. Why was Daddy so convinced that Kris Kringle was evil, and what was the fascination with Burl Ives’ bathroom habits? There were monkeys in the trees and the Auburn football players on TV were talking to him. He spoke to me like I was a little child, and talked to his dog as if the dog was in the room, which he was not.
The speech pathologist at the hospital assured us this was temporary, but it was SO hard to believe. I was so happy that he had survived, but worried that the Daddy I knew was no longer accessible. Weeks went by, and the hospital turned to a rehabilitation center. This is where the real progress was made, and in just three weeks was discharged to home, in time for Christmas, not even remembering that he had seen more doctors in the last five weeks than he had seen in his entire life, and that every medical test known to man had been run and all his health ailments repaired.
Looking back, I can’t really remember a defining moment when I knew that my Daddy was back, only that less than 7 months after his stroke, we attended our first ever reunion of his Air Force group, Misawans in America. Here he was able to use the Japanese language that he tried so hard to use in the hospital, only this time he was understood. He talked and laughed with old friends and shared jokes from long ago that only they understood. He showed off his grandchildren. Hardly anyone present knew he had ever had the stroke, and those that did were amazed that he showed no effects. Yes, he walks with a cane, but he walked with a cane before because it just looks so darn distinguished. If you look closely at the cane you’ll see that it is not a medical –grade assistance device, but rather a Japanese fighting cane.
So yes, he’s back. He was able to see his oldest grandchild earn her Black Belt in karate, something that they share together. He was able to be there to see his grandson born, and to have a grandchild share his name. He has been there to support the son he never had, my husband Charley. He has been able to reconnect with all his friends from long ago and will soon attend his seventh reunion with them. I am thankful every day for the things he has been able to see and do.
My Daddy, at the Seattle reunion. This is my favorite picture of my parents
I remain convinced, 100 percent, that the stroke saved his life. It sounds strange, but I believe if it had not happened, he would have continued on with his diabetes and his undiagnosed health problems and probably would not be here today. He’s smart, he’s funny, he’s a loving man and he’s still the one whose advice I seek. I am so thankful for those doctors, those nurses, and those therapists that brought my Daddy back to me.
I believe in second chances because I saw it happen. I also believe in God’s plan for all of us. As stubborn as my Daddy is, even he could not throw a wrench into His plan. There was a lot left to do on Jim Boone’s list. He was in the five percent, and he’s mine to be thankful for, today and always.
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy. We love you very much.
**For anyone out there who does not know the signs of a stroke, please make yourself aware. Time is off the essence when treating a stroke. Please visit www.strokeassociation.org for a complete list of symptoms. REMEMBER…TIME LOST IS BRAIN LOST!!
