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My great-aunt Libby, who I called "Mawmaw" had a stroke years ago, when I was still little. I used to go over to her house and play. She had this tiny tea set and we'd have tea parties with Sprite and angel food cake. There was a decorative hat hanging on her wall--a big straw hat with a yellow ribbon--and I was the only one allowed to take it down and play with it. I'd wear the hat while drinking my "tea" and eating cake. I still think of her every time I eat angel food cake. She was mostly paralyzed and was left with three things she could say: yes, no and oh Lordy! Sometimes yes and no were reversed, and she'd say one when she meant the other, but you could tell from her tone which one she actually meant. She could understand completely what someone was saying to her and she'd point to a picture of someone to ask about them then respond, "Oh Lordy, Lordy Lordy!" in whatever tone expressed her emotions--excited, happy, sad, disapproving. We used to go visit her in the nursing home every time we went to Milan and it always creeped me out, the scary old people and the gross smells. One old man used to just lay in his bed and holler and I always HATED walking by his room. But I loved going to see Mawmaw. I guess I was so young that it didn't bother me how she had to communicate and how you'd have to guess a few things from time to time until you finally figured out what she wanted to know.
My great-grandmother didn't have a stroke, but she did have dementia. Its a similar situation, where the body is still there but the person is gone. When I was little I asked my mom why "Dadaus" would tell you the same things over and over and she told me it was just part of getting old. As I got older, and she got worse, it became clear that it was more than just getting old. My grandmother took care of her for as long as she could, but eventually they had to put her in a nursing home and she went downhill pretty quickly after that. I think I only visited her once there because it was just too hard to see her like that and she didn't know who I was anyway. She passed away when I was 15. I'm the only one of the group of grandchildren that's old enough to really remember her, and fortunately I can only really remember her in good health.
In May my grandmother had knee replacement surgery. The next day she suffered a stroke. I drove over to Jackson to see her in the hospital and it was really shocking. We now know that some of her behavior was related to the pain medicine she was on and shortly after they dialed back her dosage she recovered fairly quickly. But her speech is still a little slurred from time to time and her personality isn't really the same. She's still living on her own, with supervision by my aunt and uncle that live down the street, but I'm still adjusting to it all. My Nan doesn't exist anymore. I still have a grandmother, but its not Nan.
Then last Thursday my Uncle Bobby had a stroke. We e-mail back and forth on a regular basis and I'd just gotten an e-mail from him Wednesday night and replied to it. I feel like I may have had some sort of subconscious omen about it, because I have been really busy and travelling alot and hadn't really e-mailed him in a few weeks. I e-mailed him Sunday night because I just felt really bad about having not talked to him in a while, and we had exchanged a few e-mails that week. I'm pretty sure he never got my reply from Wednesday night though because I sent it pretty late.
He drove himself to the hospital in Lexington and they stabilized him then transferred him to Jackson. Word of advice: don't get sick in Jackson. Between the hospital where my grandmother was treated and this one where Bobby was treated I can't believe they don't kill every patient they admit! I drove over Friday afternoon to visit for just an hour, and he slept most of the time but occasionally woke up and spoke. He could get out complete sentences that made perfect sense and other times he couldn't. But I was hopeful after what I had seen and none of his motor skills seemed to be impaired.
Once I got home late Friday night I looked online and found a few stroke rehab facilities in Nashville. I became determined to get him to Nashville so Mom and I could take care of him. He's never been married and has no children, and again as the oldest niece/nephew I've always kind of been a surrogate daughter to him. We have alot in common personality wise and are interested in alot of the same things. I hate to say he's my "favorite" necessarily, but we are more alike than I am like my own parents or anyone else in the family. I also wanted him in Nashville because my other uncle and aunt have their hands full with my grandmother and they couldn't handle taking care of both of them right now.
They got him to Baptist yesterday evening and I went by to visit. He was much improved over Friday which was a good sign. They are fairly certain he won't regain his vision 100% but his communication skills are improving and he talks WAY MORE than he ever did before. He's still got his sense of humor and that's positive, too. He didn't like the hospital food and hadn't been eating very much--which I can understand. Living alone his whole life he became a fairly good cook and I can only imagine how I'd feel having to eat shitty hospital food. And again, we're alot alike. I asked him if he'd want some chili and he said yes. He also wanted blonde brownies, which I know from our e-mail exchanges he had baked for the first time last weekend, right before the stroke. So I came home and made chili last night and Mom took it to him for lunch today. She said they had brought some lunch to him before she got there but he had only eaten his ice cream! Again...just like I'd do! Mom said he ate the chili and thought it was "pretty good" and then moved on to the blonde brownies, which he sniffed before he ate. Mom didn't really appreciate that much. :)
I didn't make it over today, but Kirby and I are both going tomorrow before his game, since the hospital is right down the street from the rink. He's getting good, intensive therapy all day every day, so that's really excellent. I'm much more at ease now that he's in a real hospital, in a dedicated stroke rehab facility, and not that shithole that is rural health care.
We have no idea how long he'll be in inpatient rehab and we aren't sure what the next step is in all of this but we'll figure it out. My mom is being somewhat resistant to me helping too much, even though its more than she can take on alone. I've tried to explain first that I am an adult, and second that I am more than willing to do whatever needs to be done. We don't have kids and I have the flexibility with work and all my other commitments to contribute time and energy to this situation. Part of it, I'm sure, is not wanting to admit that I'm an adult! The other part of it is not wanting to "burden" me, but I don't look at it as a burden. I look at it as a blessing--I told Kirby Sunday night that I felt an odd sense of peace about all of it. I wasn't stressed, or scared or angry or worried that I couldn't handle it. I understand where she's coming from but I also know that God does not give you more than you can handle. He works to make us stronger and more capable, loving individuals and most of the time its hard work, not the easy stuff. Life isn't always fun and fair but something cannot burden you unless you let it. Like the old saying goes, "no one can make you feel bad about yourself without your permission." Same here.
So, while I fully intend to keep going with my life--and with my blogs about hockey and the election and other inane things--I'm now involved in this process, and I'm sure it will take some of my "free time" and probably quite a bit of my blogging, for a while. And for anyone reading this please keep Bobby in your prayers, and us as well, because we sure can use the help!
