Living through a stroke, 2 years on
Two and a half years have elapsed after a Basilar Stroke laid me totally paralysed in a state called “locked in” syndrome, where I was virtually imprisoned in my own body , with no means of communication. It is a particularly horrendous stroke as only 5-10% live, i.e. 90-95% die without intervention. Fortunately for me as a doctor, I had my colleagues leaving no stone unturned to get me through the initial treacherous period .
I am now reasonably well, ambulant with an elbow stick and back at work as a doctor. I write this, simply to encourage my fellow stroke sufferers to not give up but fight this handicap , it’s a challenge to which you are not alone, your own nervous system will find alternative pathways for you to get over the handicaps , it’s called neuroplasty but the brain needs time and a determined effort.
My first thoughts after I regained consciousness after the blocked artery to the brain was made patent by the stroke team at the Central Hospital Colombo, were ashamedly “ why did they not let me go”, for I was completely paralysed, breathing through a tube passed into my airway. I could only flutter my eyelids.
The future looked bleak. Looking back , the turning point was when my daughter who had come back from Australia where she was training , whispered in my ear that “ Amma, (my wife), will have me back in any condition, but please live.” That set off a train of thought. I had to live, simply to be no burden to my wife and family.
During my stay at the neurosurgical ICU at the National Hospital, Sri Lanka (NHSL) in the next three months, I went through many operations as I was unable to swallow which entailed an opening made into my breathing tube in my neck (tracheostomy), an opening into my stomach to feed me. As I walk down memory lane, some of the many episodes come to mind.
For three months I had no food by mouth, and one day I remember, blinking on a written alphabet (my means of communicating with the external world), to inform them, I needed to taste something. I was not allowed to take anything by mouth. My daughter no doubt feeling sympathetic, brought a chocolate, “a Galaxy” and placed a piece in my mouth. Ah! the taste was heavenly, but within a few minutes I realised my folly, because the melting ’delight’ in my mouth was travelling down my throat into my lungs. I could not cough, and I could not dislodge the chocolate stuck to the palate in my mouth as my tongue was yet paralysed. Fortunately my wife, a doctor appeared on the scene and diagnosed the problem, took the errant cause out.
Many strokes leave you with a defect in one’s emotional control. Listening to a song with lyrics, describing the predicament of a blind orphan child’s chances of adoption, on the radio that was on eternally, brought tears to my eyes , and the nurses saw my wife cradling my head in consolation. Their interpretation was that some nurse was rude to me and the Sister in charge took all to task, till they comprehended the “raisons d ’etre”. I still carry this burden and am wary of watching on TV our cricket team in action.As I lay paralysed, many are the hair raising events in the first three months, too many to recount, but each an experience in hindsight.
Being a doctor, having taken for granted the nursing care meted out to patients in hospital, I began to realise how hard the nurses worked, often at personal expense , how their domestic needs were often waylaid by professional commitments. To me, even though I had been in the medical profession for over 40 years, it was a learning experience. Their hopes, needs, ambitions, their problems etc got my attentive ear. I realised how ignorant I had been of their real world. My thanks go to them, for all what they did with good humour, camaraderie and competence.
Many months have since elapsed, but the memories remain vivid, Eranda, Mahesh et al the physiotherapists efficiently coaxing my muscles back to good order, the two Asankas and Prabanie, the speech therapists persuading me to bleat for my own good, Lasanthi, the occupational therapist patiently putting my fingers through their paces , it all comes tumbling back. Two years have rushed past, many have been the drawbacks on the road to recovery: frequent burning of airway blocks at Welisara hospital, an impetuosity caused fall with fracture of the hip with hip replacement etc. My stars seem misaligned! My wife has remained always by my side, stoically facing each blow with me, through all this.
I have been blessed by the culture of our people. They make it a point to visit their friends and relations when struck down by illness. It was a feeling of being wanted, surrounded by goodwill, I will never forget.
I realise I have many to thank; to the Consultants who unstinted gave of their time and expertise to get me back to where I am today, I say a big “merci beacoup”. My wife, son and daughter who rallied round, still maintain an ever present “eye out” to see that I am OK. Lastly I write this in the fervent hope that stroke sufferers and their care- givers might take heart, that all is not lost.