2 - You say what?

It was just a normal day—or so I thought—on November 19, 2017. I had spent the night at Paul’s house (he’s a close friend and business partner), ate breakfast, and was on my way home carrying a replica of my daughter’s wedding cake. About three-quarters of the way there, I started to feel strange, but I brushed it off.

I stopped for gas about a mile from my house and continued driving. When I got home, I realized I couldn’t speak properly.

I arrived at around 10:45 a.m. and had likely been in this state for about an hour. My wife, Brenda, got home from church around 11:15 a.m. She began asking me questions, and while my answers made sense in my head, they didn’t come out right. Realizing something was wrong, she quickly loaded me into the car and drove me to the emergency room—just two miles away.

I walked in with the right side of my body already starting to fail, and that’s about all I remember from that point. The doctors informed Brenda that I needed to be transferred to another hospital that specialized in stroke care.

I remember little bits of the six-mile ambulance ride. Once I arrived, I was rushed into testing. I slept a lot from that point forward, with Brenda and Paul making decisions on my behalf. The doctors initially thought they had things under control, so I continued resting on Sunday.

Monday brought more tests—and worse news. The stroke had doubled in size. That meant the hemorrhage had grown significantly. A tired but confident Dr. Jayson (yes, same first name as mine—even if he spells it wrong, ha!) said he would operate first thing Tuesday morning. He masterfully oversaw the removal of the blood clot.

I spent five weeks in recovery: one week in post-op care, another in a slightly more advanced unit, and three weeks focusing on regaining my faculties. I was released on December 22, 2017.

In July 2018, I had a follow-up appointment with Dr. Jayson. The summary? I might get better, or I might not.

I was now the proud “owner” of a hemorrhagic stroke located in the basal ganglia on the left side of my brain. I also had a heavy dose of aphasia—an acquired communication disorder that impairs a person’s ability to process language but does not affect intelligence (we’ll talk more about this in another post).

On top of that, I had hemiplegia: paralysis on one side of the body. Mine affected the right side—face, arm, and leg. This happens when a stroke disrupts communication in the central nervous system. A key process called “decussation” causes the damage to appear on the opposite side of the body from where the stroke occurred. Recovery at home involves physical therapy, occupational therapy, specialized equipment, symptom management, and guidance for long-term adaptation. There is strong evidence that exercise significantly supports recovery and function post-stroke.

So, I had survived a stroke—and now I was facing aphasia and hemiplegia. One word came to mind: perseverance.

Next up: what can actually be done after a stroke?