Fossil

     There aren’t too many things I remember from the Neuro ICU or the “step-down” neuro unit other than being extremely thirsty and not being able to have water…YET, craving ice cream, blue Gatorade, my brother visiting and being extremely positive and upbeat just about every morning until he had to fly back to Alaska where he and his family reside. I also remember making him and my sister scratch me (something I’ve been obsessed with my entire life). At that time it seemed like every single employee had a Fitbit on, and I only had a “whisper” like voice at the time asking each of them if they met their goal for the day…Not many of them had. …perhaps I didn’t press my call light enough to get them their extra steps. These nurses and the PCNAs were some of the most caring people I have ever met in my life and that goes for every staff member at the Cleveland Clinic. One of my favorite things I noticed about all of the employees is not only the respect they had for me, but the respect they had towards one another. The housekeepers apologized for coming into my room, and the nurses kindly thanked them for simply taking out my trash bag. I think these characteristics and this kind of teamwork have made this hospital so successful. It seemed like even the workers who most likely were not paid as well as other employees were some of the happiest and upbeat people in the place. These people truly appeared grateful to be working, and took great pride in their jobs. I believe these employees and their attitudes played a huge role in my recovery, for the better. In certain hospitals/ Doctor’s offices, it seems there is always at least one person who is noticeably miserable, not only by the scowl on their face, but the way they talk to their patients. I don’t like to compare my situation to others, but this new outspoken Lindsay has had to bite her tongue countless times to specific employees to not say, “Look lady, my life most likely has been harder than yours, you are working, I am unable to, all of those patients are in here because they need help, lose the attitude..” and that’s my rated G explanation. Ugh! It just irks me to think about if this person treated any person this rudely, especially an elderly patient. If you are unhappy at your job in the health-field, get out!! I can proudly say the 2nd time I visited this place, this employee was not present. What a relief.

     A few other things I vividly remember are some hallucinations/delusions & delerium I had in the hospital that to this day still feel real. I still believe my room prior to rehab had two big fat black snakes in the sinks hissing at me. I believe I also felt these snakes wrapping tightly around my legs while they hissed….supposedly it was my compression boots tightening and my oxygen hissing. It was weeks later when one of my favorite nurses (M.C.) visited me in rehab told me she believed me and said that room was haunted. Another thing I seemed so sure of was that I was in a hospital in Grosse Ile, Michigan (which does not exist), and at times the Target pharmacy. I was also convinced my Neurosurgeon let a few other patients and my brother ride in an ambulance to the Detroit Red Wings game, so we could see one last game in the Joe Louis Arena. I remember in this delusion/dream or whatever it is considered I was sitting on a bar stool with my brother having a beer, eating concession food, making a mess. After this, I was welcomed on the jumbo Tron along with other Cleveland Clinic patients with a standing ovation. To this day, I still wonder if I had any type of conversation about hockey with my surgeon or his team in the O.R. during my Anesthesia.  I believe my family was aware of my confusion and most likely very scared, however that did not cross my mind until after…..

Mom: “Hi Lindsay!!”

Me: *Shakes head no, sticks out right hand to shake Mom’s hand*, Whispers, “No, Dr. Fossil, Marine Biologist, UofM.”

Mom: “No, you are Lindsay.”

Me: *Serious look, shakes head no* Again, “Dr. Fossil….Reagan Fossil.”

Mom: *Blank stare, points at my sister Jamie* Panicky voice, “Who’s that?!”

Me: “Matt.”

                I also told my mom I was craving a big fat juicy burger with a pickle….I’m a vegetarian.

Mom leaves the room to tell the nurse I’m (or should I say Dr. Fossil) more confused than usual. “Can you do a Neuro check?”

Nurse: “Hi Lindsay!” Can you tell me what month and year it is and where you are at?

Me: “January, 2017. Cleveland Clinic.”

     Aced it! It was only hours later that my sister turned into an investigator to talk to Fossil and find out more, which is then when I explained to her that was a complete joke and my code name I planned to use when creeps approached me and my friend Laura (Dr. Elle Anderson, Neuro Surgeon, Stanford) at the bars in East Lansing. She did not seem convinced but luckily she confirmed this story with “Dr. Elle Anderson.” Looking back, I still find this freakin’ hilarious to myself, but I probably should not have done that to my poor Mom or have a nurse be taken away from the floor for my false confusion. I had believed this lil’ joke landed me speech therapy due to my cognitive deficits, however, that was not the case. Speech actually turned out to be one of my favorite therapy’s, although it was extremely hard, especially with occasional background noise and 3 people (therapist, intern, mom) watching your every move…not to mention hearing the clock tick as you write, erase, write, erase, look up at the therapist, N. K., and intern, S.S. and tell them, “I’m stumped.” I’m actually so happy I worked with speech, it became very fun to me, especially once I started improving, although very tiring. To this day, I will still argue that I got a few answers right, that another speech therapist had marked me wrong for. She had asked me to circle buildings where I could find donuts on a map she had given me. Apparently police station was the wrong answer (stereotypical, I know, however I know some  officers would agree)  Another session N.K and S.S had told me I had "left side neglect" and was completely missing everything on the left side of the worksheets like circling coins that Abe Lincoln's head was turned the wrong way. Once I was told about my neglect, I instantly focused immediately on the left side of worksheets. Turns out neglect applies to your body as well..as I'd often forget to "bring" my left hand with me when turning in bed (ouch!) and occassionally brush my left arm on the wall coming out of the bathroom. Both of these therapists were so nice and funny to me and my mom. I will never forget them! I remember asking N.K. for more worksheets/puzzles and she said, “Yeah! I can bring some to you today if you’d like.” It was Thursday, and I replied…”That’s pushing it, how about tomorrow for the weekend?” I had homework and I didn’t cheat (like I did in school). I believe I got all of them right, and I began to feel like a genius. When the intern was running the sessions on her own she'd read me detailed paragraphs then i was immediately asked questions related to the paragraphs. I began to catch on to what this was all about, so i'd try to blurt out all the facts I remembered before i forgot them, hoping it'd be an answer to one of the questions. I loved these activities & i loved wordsearches. I hated family tree puzzles & the maze i couldn't figure out on my last session-which still bugs me! I really thought my right frontal lobe being fixed turned me into a true wiz.  After all, my Neuro Surgeon told me a huge part of my brain had never functioned my entire life, which I will go into more detail about in other blog posts.

     Prior starting speech therapy in rehab, I can recall some of my physical therapy on the neuro (stepdown) unit nothing from the NICU, besides again, having a super cool therapist which is not surprising. I remember pretty much being bed ridden and when PT came to assess me it took a tall therapist (S.C.) and a man who appeared strong (name unknown) to transfer me while in my brief diaper & gown into a wheelchair. I could barely sit up straight. I was falling to the side and a few days later I was practicing how to get around in my new wheelchair which I believed I’d be in forever. This therapist, I can still hear her voice saying, “10 to 2,” as to how to use my right hand to roll in my chair. She had to say this a lot. I have a feeling I may have been a bit impulsive. After this session, I felt really good just to finally get out of bed. I truly considered looking into hemiplegia sports, especially some type of wheelchair basketball. I believe somewhere around this time I was asking for my gym shorts, tennis shoes, cell phone, although I was in no condition to need any of those items just yet. I know once I was cleared to eat regular food, that process in itself was exhausting. My mom and sister were huge help when it came to my meals. I didn’t want to not eat. I definitely had an appetite. It just felt so exhausting at the time to eat, even though my family was doing all of the work besides chewing for me. I had to suck it up and do whatever I could do though to get rid of my feeding tube. On January 25th, one of the best things that could ever happen happened to me! I was moved to the rehab floor. The therapists wasted no time, thank goodness!! My OT had sat me up in a chair to have me attempt to give myself a sponge bath which felt like an epic fail. This therapist was extremely nice and funny and wanted me to do everything possible on my own (rightfully so). I’m not confident I became any cleaner from this bath, but it still felt good. I (and my therapists) probably remember how dang ashy I was for weeks despite my mom drowning me in lotion. I also was extremely hairy, as I was not safe enough yet to shower. Being a person who always was top-notch when it came to hygiene, I felt like a dirtball. Hopefully, they have seen and smelled worse than me. I also had physical therapy immediately and had the worst hamstring pain on my left side. I tried to tell my PT that day, but my voice was so weak I don’t think she could even hear when I gasped or screamed attempting to walk in the parallel bars while she’d pull my left leg forward. I’m glad she was tough on me, but boy did that hurt! The next day I had a new PT (K. W.). I like to think of her as a saint, as well as my hero. She knows these things from me, and I’m assuming many others. I feel K.W. went above and beyond for me. She changed my life forever. On day 1 of PT I made a better decision to tell K.W. my hamstrings hurt very badly and she really took the time to stretch my leg out prior to putting me to work. I believe this pain went on for at least a week. I think with my first session with K.W. we quickly got me cruisin’, with another guy named D. R.  D. R was a very tall, strong guy with such a great optimistic attitude. He referred to me as “Lindsay the Champion.” This guy was the greatest, and it felt like he was my biggest fan in the gym. If he ever needed anything in life, he is the kind of guy I’d gladly do anything for if I could. Big guy, D.R. and K.W. walked with me in the gym as my mom pushed the wheelchair behind me in case of any mishaps. I surprised myself a lot those first few days and began to gain some confidence. I felt better and stronger every day. My left foot dragged quite a bit but K.W. really worked with it quite a bit. Eventually, we did not need my mom to follow behind me with the wheelchair, nor did I need D.R.’s hand. It was bittersweet, graduating from D.R.

     K.W. got to know me better and knew I liked knowing my times and results in different things we did so she was sure to challenge me. I got to shoot some hoops, do wii balance games, stairs, walk fast on an inclined treadmill, attempt to step on circular pads, trying not to lose balance and step in “lava” (the tiles). My shoes melted a couple of times in the lava as I’d lose my balance, and K.W. just had to throw in a lil’ joke and state, “I hope those shoes are fireproof.” At the time, I had hoped the same or else my red old school New Balances would have been done for. I got many comments on those ridiculous shoes including from a patient named, “Mickey,” who used to root me on a little bit in the gym and gave me a hug on her DC date. I hope she is doing well.

Another things I’ll never forget from K.W. was when I was working on balancing my left leg in front of a mirror, which did not go as well as I’d like. I told K.W. I wanted another chance, as usual she agreed while taking the mirror away and said, “OK 5 more times!” I was thinking just once, but K.W. was thinking otherwise. My rehab Dr. would visit me daily in the gym and check in with me. I really liked this guy. He also seemed impressed and optimistic. I continued to get a lot stronger however, I definitely still needed assistance.

     A lot of people who may not be in the health field or know someone who had a stroke may not know how difficult it can be to walk safely and try to do everything right. It was only about a month ago I got the silent voice in my head that told my feet, “left, right, left, right,” as I walked to go away. K.W. was aware of my cognitive deficits and started making my walking even harder by having me walk and talk at the same time. If you can’t walk and chew gym at the same time, I can imagine we can somehow relate. If walking safely and talking wasn’t hard enough, K.W. started making me play brain games like naming male and female names A-Z. I was getting stumped and desperate when it came to “Q” and named “Quinsetta” for a girl. Luckily, other therapists approved this to be an acceptable answer, and months later, Google did as well. I used “Steve” for “S” in male names. K.W. liked this one a lot because her now fiancé is named Steve. In my opinion, I started to Master these games, so K.W. stepped it up in one of my assessments having me walk while subtracting sevens! Are you kidding me?! This was another epic fail. I wanted to use my fingers to cheat but only 5 of them on my right hand worked and it added more seconds to my timed test. About 2 sessions prior to my discharge date I asked K.W. why she didn’t have me using any device in therapy and how she knew not to. She explained to me she did not want me relying on a device and anticipated a full recovery. She told me there were more pros than cons for my recovery, the pros being: age, motivation, and athleticism prior to surgery. The cons were having the worst kind of bleed/stroke one person can have. On our last session ever we went for a walk with me wearing the gait belt. K.W. stopped me to tell me she got chills right then and there thinking about how I started with 3 people and now it was just me and her. It had to have been one hell of a feeling and sense of accomplishment for her. It sure was for me!! I am forever grateful!

     Stay tuned for my next blog on Safety to “Normalcy,” Pain and Sadness,my 60-90 minute hot showers plus a current update on Outpatient Therapy.