[StemCellInformation] # 355 Friday, August 3 , 2007 - ?GRANDMA HAD A STROKE!?

 

# 355 Friday, August 3 , 2007 - ?GRANDMA HAD A STROKE!? 

 

One moment I was cheerfully tai-chi-ing my way through the 42-step Yang style of exercise, enjoying the fresh air and faint chill of a lovely morning?

 

The next I was running for my car.

 

The difference was the shouted voice of my 10 year old grandson, Roman Jr.

 

?Grandma had a stroke!? he said,

 

?My?your Grandma? Gloria? My wife?? My brain did not quite comprehend, though my feet were already moving.

 

?Yes, she is at the emergency room right now!? yelled my son, Roman Senior, from his van in the parking lot.

 

A stroke? Massive nerve damage? What if Gloria was paralyzed?

 

As my car broke several speeding laws, careening around a corner on two wheels, or so it seemed to my fevered brain, the first thought I remember was:

 

We live in a 2-story house. The bedroom is upstairs. How do I get Gloria up two flights of stairs to the second floor of our non-accessible house?

 

A vision of Gloria sitting down, (not in a wheelchair, please God not in a wheelchair) giving me my list of things to do, and for me to come back when those are done.

 

Selfish thoughts crowded my brain.

 

 I wish I could say I was noble, and my worry was all for her, and the agony she must be going through, but that would be a lie.

 

All the chores I would have to do?no more just dry the dishes and fit them somewhere on the shelves, but also scrape and wash?and cook? What if I had to cook? Well, we would lose weight, that was one thing good, because we would probably rather starve than eat my minus-five stars cookery.

 

I found myself getting angry as I ran from the parking lot, dodging moving cars-- how dare she make me do all the dishes, didn?t she know I was a busy man?

 

?Where is emergency, which way is emergency?? I said, running backwards so I could hear the answer.

 

And worst of all, as the automated doors hissed open:

 

The unacknowledged shadow: what if Gloria was not there?

 

 

Naturally I got lost at the hospital. I asked and asked and asked again, saying yes yes yes as I blurred by the nurse who told me to slow down, though I missed the last half of her lecture --

 

Gloria?s voice!   

 

?It is my grandson?s birthday,? she was saying to the admissions nurse, ?We celebrated it yesterday, but today we are meeting at the Oakland A?s game, so I have to be out of here by noon, stroke or no stroke.?

 

If she was strong enough to argue, she was not too bad off, I thought.

 

And she was standing. She gestured with her hand?she could move her hand!

 

They took us to the room, and I turned my back while Gloria put on of those gowns on.

 

Then she caught me up on what had happened.

 

 The sudden sharp stabbing pain in her chest, going all the way through to her back, and the clutching spasm in the side of her face.

 

?The advice nurse told me to call 911, but I said I would drive myself and I was not going to argue about it,? Gloria said, ?she persisted, so I didn?t argue. I just hung up on her.?

 

Did she have pain right now?

 

No.

 

The nurses came in with their charts and questions.

 

The doctor came in, read the charts, asked more questions, ordered tests.

 

Blood samples were taken (from the back of her hand, poor thing!) x-rays and elbow cuffs and a cardiogram.

 

Then we did what hospital clients do most: i.e., waiting.

 

?If they?re not done by 12:00, I?m leaving,? said Gloria.

 

I made the expected noises about we didn?t know how serious things were, and we had to find out the full diagnosis, etc., etc..

 

Gloria let me talk. She did not comment. Translation: she would make up her own mind, as always.

 

Our daughter called on the cell phone. The first thing she said was:  ?Do not let her leave! Forget about that stupid baseball game, do not let her go!?

 

I sighed, said I would do my best, like promising to influence the weather.

 

We went back to waiting.

 

In the next room-let, separated only by a thin hanging cloth, a man was screaming, literally shrieking at the top of his lungs, pleading for relief.

 

?AIIEEEEEE, NURSE, DOCTOR, PLEEEEASE!  GIVE ME SOMETHING FOR MY PAIN, AIEEEEE!?

 

This went on for maybe ten minutes. We figured the poor guy must have bullet wounds or something.

 

Several times there was the rattle of a curtain being pulled back, as various nurses visited.

 

Then an authoritative medical voice, saying:

 

 ?Does it hurt there??

 

 ?No?.  

 

?There??

 

 ?No?.

 

 ?There??

 

 ?AAIIIEEEEE!??which I took for a yes.

 

?Well,? said the doctor, ?You have hemorrhoids.?

 

?AIEEE?what??

 

And the doctor began talking about the joys of suppositories, and sanitary napkins for a man with hemorrhoids.  

 

Gloria and I were polite, and said nothing. But our eyes locked, her face had that try-to-keep-from- laughing grin, and we had to turn away, don?t look at me, like kids in school.

 

How many laughs have we shared over 38 years? Our anniversary is August 23^rd.

 

By now Gloria knew all the nurse?s names, (and she would remember them if they met on the street) and they knew about our three grandsons, and our daughter the lawyer and our son the commissioner of Health and Recreation, and  (being enlisted on our side) they were putting pressure on the lab to hurry up with the results.

 

The doctor came back again, interpreting the charts and photographs.

 

He was nice and kind, gentle and caring.

 

Our future hung on his words.

 

?Grip my fingers,? he said to Gloria. She did, flat on her back on the hospital bed.

 

?Other hand? Uh-huh?

 

?Now, push with the outside of your knee. Other knee? Okay, now what difference do you feel between this?? he touched one side of her ankle??and this.? The other side.

 

?No difference,? said Gloria, ?But my grandson?s game starts in an hour.?

 

?We can rule out a stroke,? he said. The tension in my shoulders eased, then returned.

 

?Mini-stroke?? I asked, ?I heard people have little strokes first and they build up??

 

?No.?

 

?My family dies of heart attack,? said Gloria.

 

?You have risk factors, but you did not have a heart attack.?

 

?Not?? I asked.

 

?Not,? he confirmed, and ten minutes later Gloria was on her way to the A?s game and I was on my way back to my study, where I am trying to do a position paper on Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer?

 

Today, if you read this Friday, August 03, 2007, we have an appointment with Gloria?s  regular doctor.

 

We don?t know for sure yet, what happened. Gloria?s family also has a lot of diabetes, so that is something we will ask about.

 

But she was not paralyzed. She did not have a heart attack.

 

 

?We are all of us are one phone call away, one diagnosis away?, House of Representatives leader Nancy Pelosi often says: one phone call away from the dreaded news of incapacitating disease or crippling disability.

 

This time, the axe did not fall. We were spared.

 

But how many millions are not so fortunate?

 

This stem cell battle you and I share? It is not trivial.

 

Our goal is to support and protect stem cell research.

 

But that is not what drives us on.

 

What we are really doing is fighting for our loved ones? lives: working together:

 

To protect your family, and mine.

Don Reed
www.stemcellbattles.com

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