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I woke up at 6:45 on October 26, 2017 with the worst headache of my life. The pain seemed to be my worst New Year hangover multiplied by at least 10. The sharp sensations seemed to come from the middle of my brain, spreading through my head as the morning progressed.
I felt good the night before and I stayed up until 2 am to play catch-up. As director of communications for an international company, evenings and mornings are not unusual for me. But today, the pain was such that I knew I could not join. I called ill, blown up aspirin and went back to bed.
I woke up and felt exactly the same, if not worse, at lunch time. I called my boyfriend (now fiance), Nick. As I tried to tell him what was going on, he broke off to say that I did not speak in complete sentences, which was strange because I thought I was speaking clearly. He promised to stop after his last meeting at 4 pm I went back to bed.
When Nick arrived around 5:30 pm, I got up, leaning against the walls to get help to get to the door. He looked so worried when I answered and wondered if I underestimated all that.
Nick guided me into my bed and told me that he wanted to call my cardiologist, whom I saw regularly after training me for a half marathon, left me breathless. Although I could not hear the side of the doctor's conversation, Nick's serious facial expressions I said he did not like what he heard. After hanging up, he will not tell me exactly what the doctor said, only that we should go to the hospital. He did not want me to worry without knowing for sure what was going on.
Twelve hours after my first pains, we went up to an Uber and rushed to the emergency room. When we arrived about 15 minutes later, we learned that my doctor had called, asking the admitting staff to look after me because he thought I had a stroke or other brain injury.
Jenina Nunez
Even though I heard the nurses say "stroke," I thought I was too young for this to happen to me. It must have been something else.
I described my symptoms to the emergency doctor and Nick explained to him how my responses had been fragmented during our phone call. The doctor told me that I would have immediate blood tests and tests of my brain, my arteries and my heart.
Even though I was with Nick, I felt lonely while we waited for the results. I always hoped that this headache was not a stroke or something as serious as a tumor. Whatever it is, I wondered what was moving it. I just ran a half marathon a few weeks ago. I was in good health.
I felt so much, but I did not discuss it with Nick while we waited in my hospital room. We were quiet enough to hear all the audible beeps of a hospital trolley in the emergency wing.
Several tests later, the doctor was ready to talk with us. Basically, when I started to feel the pain in the morning, a clot formed in one of the arteries located in the center of my brain, affecting the blood flow in its parts badociated with the speech, logic and the speed with which I deal. Info. It was an ischemic stroke, the most common type, affecting 87% of patients with stroke.
I was too young for that to happen to me. It must have been something else.
Yet, this is not common among young people – in fact, only 34% of people hospitalized for stroke in 2009 were under 65 years old. I was 35 years old and I was in good health.
The doctor admitted that the cause of the blockage was not clearly defined. They also said that the lack of blood circulation was damaging cells in important parts of my brain, making my communication more difficult. The worst: my attempts to fall asleep prolonged the medical care, thus aggravating the destruction. It was hard to say how much worse it was, but specialists would be able to badess the extent of my injury and recommend the best treatment.
While the doctor was reviewing the details and was planning to admit me at least a few nights, I stopped listening. With the results, I was terrified.
The next morning, as I talked to the nurses, I realized that it was not easy to get the words across. I was able to talk, but I had not had a conversation since the day before my stroke. After the incident, I did not say more than a few words at a time because of the pain. Now I had the impression that each sentence was filled with annoying breaks, which made me slip phrases that should have been completed quickly. My thoughts were complete, but it was as if my mouth could not cooperate with my brain to produce them out loud.
The doctors explained that I was suffering from aphasia, a condition in which your ability to retrieve information was damaged. About 25 to 40% of stroke victims experience it.
On my second day in the hospital, I tried to write a journal, hoping that all I needed to do was try another form of communication, but aphasia also affected my ability to write. My moment of optimism gave way to silent tears while I was sitting alone in my room.
I wondered how long I would have to deal with this disease. Would it be a problem for life? How could I do my job as director of communication if I could not even express myself in front of my boyfriend? I felt like the thing that set me up, my voice, was stolen.
"My moment of optimism gave way to silent tears while I was sitting alone in my hospital room."
The next two days at the hospital dragged on. I was taking blood several times a day for coagulation tests and cholesterol, which can cause a stroke. My friends have also come out carrying gossip magazines and fun socks to replace the ugly stockings of the hospital. They comforted me even though the conversations were physically difficult for me.
Therapists came periodically to badess basic skills such as walking and brushing teeth, skills that a stroke can affect, depending on the extent of the injury. I did all the tests, but I was humble.
Once the doctors agreed that I could handle the daily tasks, I went out five days later.
A few days after my return home, I had trouble interacting with strangers who did not know what I had been through. I still needed food, so I went to the grocery store. I was slow to react when one of the cashiers asked me if I wanted to use my reusable bags or plastic ones. Then the cashier asked me to repeat myself. I simply nodded, pronounced a simple "yes" and pointed out reusable bags that I had brought with me. I never felt worse at ease.
After that, I limited my outings, making me shop as often as possible and meeting only friends at home. Even though I seemed to be fine, the fragmented sentences made me aware of myself.
Jenina Nunez
The doctors insisted that I start speech therapy as soon as possible. When I booked my first session, my chief therapist explained that the goal was to increase the function of the damaged parts of my brain, to improve speech and to improve my speech. help my mind find new shortcuts for words to go from my head to my mouth.
She gave examples of the kinds of exercises we would do together, such as riddles, word problems, sample essays – basically, college activities. A puzzler made me deduce what people wore as well as their favorite foods and colors from a variety of clues. I had the impression of going around in circles and missing things that I should have been able to catch quickly. I cried, frustrated that she was badessing my abilities from this exercise and that this stupid problem does not help me start crushing her at work.
But she said that finishing the puzzle was not essential. The exercises forced my brain to find new ways to do what it did without using the damaged cells. I urged him to exploit new ones and speed up the process. Over time, I became faster and started to be more confident.
Six months after the stroke, the doctors allowed me to return to work.
I was inspired by the idea of leaving home to go beyond therapy, going from house sessions with my friends to a brunch at the restaurant. I've also revisited hobbies like running and possibly writing.
Nearly two years later, I am finally optimistic for all this experience. I am grateful to be alive and even more grateful to have bounced back so well. I left my position as a corporate communications officer to hold a less public nonprofit public relations position. I live a slightly new normal: I see a cardiologist for exams while I keep running. I also take anticoagulants every day to prevent clots, since one in four stroke survivors may have repeated experience.
These days, I pay more attention to my body. When I am tired, I sleep; when I feel pain, I do not ignore it. Sometimes I think about how I could have lost the elements of my identity that are most important to me, and I'm overwhelmed. But then I open my eyes and see that I still have time live my life, be with loved ones and continue to heal emotionally, and that's what counts.
Jenina Nuñez is a communication professional, blogger and podcaster living in Chicago, Illinois.
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