The Stroke

I met her when she was admitted to my room on the stroke unit. The emergency room staff wheeled her into the room after she’d been worked up for her stroke-like symptoms. She was small, maybe five foot two, quiet, with her head down, a worried look on her face. The ER staff placed the ER bed next to the hospital bed, and I helped them pull her over.

“One, two, three.”

“She’s having some left arm and left leg weakness, and some aphasia,” the nurse from the ER had told me in report. “Her left arm is almost flaccid.”

With the ER report in mind, I addressed her. “Hi, I’m David. I’ll be your nurse today. I’m gonna get you checked in, and I’ll have some questions for you as part of the process, ok?”

She nodded, choosing not to speak yet. She rolled to one side, then the other, as the ER staff helped get extra sheets out from under her.

“Thanks guys,” I said as the ER staff members left to return to the ER. Then I turned to my patient.

“Ok, I’ve got some questions, is that ok?”

“Y-y-yes,” she stammered. Tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s getting w-worse,” she said, and began to cry softly. “I’m sorry.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “You don’t have to be sorry at all. It’s frightening. But I’m here for you all day. You just let me know how I can help.” She nodded, wiping her eyes with her one good arm.

As I completed all the steps of her admission, I performed a series of stroke tests. She could barely lift her left arm. Her left leg was hard to lift. Her speech was slow, with stuttering and delayed responses. I stepped through all the tests I needed to perform and finished up her admission process. Before I left the room I told her, “I’m going to see if someone from speech therapy can see if you can swallow ok, then get you something to eat.”

She nodded.

“And here’s your call button. You let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, ok? Would you like for me to sit with you a while?”

“No, I…th-th-think I’m o-ok. Thank you.”

The next time I saw her, I walked into the room and she said “Hey, there’s my guy!”

I grinned. “You look like you’re feeling better!”

“I am feeling much better. Here, look what I can do.” She held up her left arm. I could tell she was concentrating hard, but she was getting it to stay up, wobbly as it seemed. “And this is my daughter,” she said, motioning toward a young visitor.

I nodded to the newcomer. “It’s good to meet you.” I then turned back to my patient. “That’s awesome! I’m so glad you’re feeling better!” I took her through her morning meds, then said “Today you’re scheduled for an MRI. That’s the test we use to fully confirm whether you’ve had a stroke or not.”

“Ok, sounds good,” she answered.

“I also need to get some blood from you, is that ok?”

She nodded.

As I drew her blood, I talked with her a little. “Do you have any other children?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I have another daughter. And I also have three grandchildren.”

“That’s awesome! Family is a blessing.”

“Yes, they are,” she nodded.

I finished up with the blood draw. “Ok, that’s it for now. I’ll see you later, ok?”

“Ok,” she said, smiling.

That evening, I came in to check on her and noted that her visitors were gone. “They had to go, huh?” I said.

“Yes, they had to leave me here by my lonesome,” she said with a half-smile.

“Well, again, you let me know if you need anything, or if you need someone to talk to. That’s part of my job too. It’s all part of being here for you.”

She smiled. “Thank you so much.”

The next shift I had with her, she said “Well, it looks like I did have a stroke.”

“I heard,” I replied. “I know that’s not news you wanted, but we’ll get you better.”

She brightened. “Hey, I peeled half a boiled egg today!”

Her daughter pulled out her phone to show me a video of the task. Sure enough, though she had to strain, she used her left hand to peel that egg.

“Hey, that’s great! See, you’re already getting better!”

“Yep, thank goodness. Hey, do you think I could get help to take a shower today?”

“Of course, I’ll have a tech help you with that.”

Through that day I witnessed her up and about with physical therapy staff, using a walker but with a determined look on her face.

That evening, I said “I bet that shower felt good, huh?”

“Oh yes,” she replied smiling.

“Good. Well that’s it for me today, I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

“Yes sir!”

The next morning in report I learned she had received a cardiac rhythm loop recorder. It is a device that monitors and keeps a record of her heart rhythms to look for a possible cause for her stroke. I also learned she had had a little bleeding from the incision. And she found out she’d been accepted to a rehab facility, but couldn’t go yet because they didn’t have an open room available. When I greeted her, she said “Well, hopefully this monitor will help explain some things.”

“Yes, it should. How are you doing otherwise?”

“Well, I’m a little sad that I don’t get to go home yet. It’s going to be after the weekend now.”

“I heard. I’m sorry. But it’s good that you’ve been accepted. So we just have more chances to get you stronger.”

She nodded. “I guess.”

“So, how would you feel about quitting smoking? Because that’s a big stroke risk.”

“I know. And I’m definitely quitting. I want to avoid anything like this if at all possible. And I am going to get independent again.”

“That’s a great attitude,” I said. “I know you can do it. Let me know what I can do for you.”

The day of her discharge had arrived. I helped her into a wheelchair and decided to take her down to the exit myself, rather than have a tech do it. “You ready to get out of here?”

“You bet! I’m so ready to get back to normal.”

“It’ll take some work, but you’ll get there. I’m so excited for you!”

I helped her daughter to pack up and carry some of her personal things downstairs. I then put a flower into her lap and we headed for the elevators. When we arrived at the door, we waited a moment for her daughter to pull the car up, then I took her hands to help her up. Upon standing, she pulled me into a hug. “Thank you so much for everything.” Her voice began to quiver. “And tell everyone else thank you too. I really appreciate you guys.”

“I will”, I said. I helped her step into the car, then gently closed the door. “Ya’ll be careful on the drive.”

“We will,” she replied as her daughter stepped into the driver’s side. “Thanks again.”

As the car drove off, I smiled, hoping she really would quit smoking. Hoping she continued to get stronger. Hoping if there was anything about being in the hospital she would remember, it would be the care she got.

As I reflected on my experience with her, I was reminded once again what I love about this job. Being there for people is so important.

I can only hope I do the job God has blessed me with in a way that brings glory to Him.

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