The Monster (Part I)

The Monster Cometh

There is no pain.

I'm told from talking to a few friends and/or acquaintances who have unfortunately suffered a heart attack that there is a great deal of pain involved. Shooting left arm pain soon morphs into bone-crushing chest pain, enough to subdue even the strongest of the strong. Terrifying probably doesn't come close to describing the ordeal. I consider myself fortunate to have not yet experienced something like that.

It started innocuously enough with a strange feeling in the arch of my left foot at work. It was a Wednesday in April, 2000. The phenomenon we parochially phrase "my leg fell asleep", kept on sleeping most of the day. After much prodding by my co-workers, I went to the doctor. Upon entering the examining room I explained my symptoms, and she did a cursory examination, which included sticking my finger for a cholesterol test. Mine came out 217, a bit high but nothing to sound the alarms over. My leg was still asleep, and the arch of my left foot still seemed to be the focal point. I went home, took off my sneakers, and laid down on my bed. An unusual thing happened when I removed my foot gear - the tingling sensation went away. Thinking awkwardly as one is prone to do in a perplexing situation, I suddenly felt quite stupid. The brand new sneakers had a rather high arch, and I put what I thought to be 2 and 2 together and assumed the tingling was the higher-than-normal arch pinching or somehow irritating a nerve. All was well and I felt a lot better about myself. Imagine being silly enough to be fooled by a new pair of Nike's.

Exactly two weeks went by. Each afternoon for those 14 days I felt sick to my stomach, lethargic, and tired.

Very tired.

In the 2nd of those two weeks, I ashamedly had to ask my boss if I could go home early each day. I felt awful physically and mentally, as leaving work for illness was something that was new to me. I spent a lifetime "working through it", but this time it was different. It wasn't a cold or some version of the annual flu that so many seem to get. Something was wrong with me. On the evening of April 18th, I was sitting in my recliner reading. My wife, a registered nurse, dropped a piece of paper on my lap and said, "you may not want to listen to me, perhaps you'll read this and get a clue". It was a single page document titled "The 8 Warning Signs of an oncoming Stroke".

The very next morning - April 19th, 2000 - will forever be a mixture of cloudy visions and for some inexplicable reason clear and concise snapshots & mini-movies of the events of that morning. If I may, let me scour my memory damaged noggin in search of a nearly 6 year old event.

I opened my eyes (or eye as it were) and was startled at the time on the annoyingly beeping alarm clock. 7:05 am. I never arose that late, and I was a bit panicked at my tardiness. I tried to lift my head off of the bed and get my day started, but my head wouldn't move. I was lying on my right side, still peering out at the clock as I attempted to get my head up. Again I failed.

The clock changed to 7:06.

"Tweener". That's the word I'm looking for. Do you know of that moment we all experience from time to time, that period between knowingness and naivete? It's no more than a second or so in length. There you are still baffled - but clarity is beginning to take hold. It was at this moment in time, 7:06 am to be exact, where I experienced the "tweener" effect. I was still unaware, but that was changing by the second.

I tried rolling over. Nothing. I couldn't move my head, and I couldn't roll over naturally. I did a quick assessment. I could hear the alarm, I could see the red LED lights of the time. I was still with the living as far as I could tell. I tried rolling over again. Nothing. Being that I was still on my right side, I could sense that my left arm was moving, as was my left leg, but for some reason I still couldn't rise from the bed. With all the strength I could muster, I threw my left leg and arm simultaneously over the side of the bed, and the rest of my body followed. There, that's better! I was off the bed.

Unfortunately, I was on the floor. And I really had to pee!

What happened in the next 30 to 45 seconds is total conjecture on my part, based mostly on conversations I had with my wife and family over the succeeding months. Apparently, I fought my way to my feet and managed to drag myself to the bathroom and take care of this major bladder inconvenience I was having. I have no idea how I accomplished this feat. I recall that I came to the additional realization that I wasn't breathing normally, or quite possibly not breathing at all. I was somehow standing on the opposite side of my bed now, and my wife was yelling at me to "LIE DOWN!" I think I caught a glimpse of her with the phone in her hand, but of that I wasn't sure. What I was sure of was the fact that I now knew I couldn't breathe, and this was causing me to panic. In the best traditions of the keystone cops movies of old, my wife and I carried on this running routine. I'd lug myself up to my feet struggling to catch a breath - just one thank you very much - and she in turn would yell at me to lie back down. I have no clue how many times this happened, but it was more than a couple

I just wanted to BREATHE, and I would have given anything to feel my chest rise and fall a time or two. At some point while lying on the bed, the very rapid thought "stroke" entered my head and exited just as fast. No way! This was all a bad dream, and soon I would wake up to that damn incessantly beeping alarm and get dressed to go to work.

I looked up and saw the fireman standing over me, lowering an oxygen mask onto my face. Sweet Jesus, it was true! But at least I was breathing fresh clean air again. I started to relax and give in to the now undeniable fact that I wasn't dreaming, and that two very strong firemen were hoisting me up onto a gurney. As we rolled quickly out of the house, I remember looking up and seeing the concerned look on the face my late-teen aged daughter, and the utter confusion of my then 8 year old son. I could tell he had no earthly idea what was happening, and he was scared.

As the ambulance pulled away with the siren running, a female paramedic was asking me what my name was, what day and year it was, and who the President of the United States was. I have no idea if I answered correctly or even answered at all. I do remember that I was again tired and I believe I drifted off to sleep while noting how smooth the ride was in this ambulance. As of this moment I have no recollection of talking or attempting to talk. I was told later I gave it my best shot to communicate, but that it just wasn't happening.

All I knew as I fell asleep is I felt no pain whatsoever.