Coming back ... slowly
May 15, 2012
By Mike Weland
Publisher

It happened in an instant April 22, so sudden and subtle that I didn't even know my life had changed profoundly until I reached for a glass of ice tea. It's the reason you've seen so little change on these pages for the past several weeks.

That Sunday was a good one. I got up early for my weekly visit with Charles Osgood and Bob Schieffer, then went out to tend to our birds and gather eggs. After the sun warmed the morning chill, I went out to the garden and began working the rich soil, even got my potatoes and spinach in.

I gathered up the slash from last fall's tree trimming and burned off a few piles, the first step in my spring cleaning. After a long, hot day, I went in at 5 p.m. to catch the day's news, pouring a glass of iced tea before sitting down.

As the news began, I lit a cigarette and sat back to watch. At the first commercial break, I reached over to take a sip of tea, or thought I was. My mind told me I should have the glass in my hand, but my left hand hadn't left the arm rest of my recliner. I tried to shift in my seat so I could figure out what was going on, and discovered that my left leg wouldn't move, either.

Still uncertain what was going on, I called out to my wife, Debbie, and noticed that one side of my face was numb and my words came out slurred. It was then that I realized I'd likely had a stroke, even as part of me screamed in protest that it just couldn't be.

Still, I did something I'd never done before ... I told Debbie I needed an ambulance.

On the ride to Boundary Community Hospital, my hand came back and I came close to asking the crew to turn around, it was a false alarm, but in the midst of clenching and unclenching, my hand stopped moving again. It came back one more time before we reached the hospital, the last moment between what was "normal" and what is now.

Thanks to the care and effort of the good people of Boundary Volunteer Ambulance and the ER staff at Community Hospital, I was soon stabilized and ready for transport to Kootenai Medical Center. Ironically, after covering BVA's attempt to form an ambulance taxing district so as to improve their level of service, I was informed that mine was one of those transport cases that our ambulance crews couldn't undertake; I needed either a registered nurse or a paramedic to ride with me. I could wait for an ambulance to come up from Bonner County or I could fly MedStar.

I flew.

In the days since, I've come to grips with my new condition, learning to get around in a wheelchair or with a four-point cane, learning to dress with one hand, to type with only one. The support of the many friends, co-workers and neighbors of Boundary County was overwhelming and so very beneficial; not a day has gone by that I haven't gotten a little bit stronger or moved a part of me that I feared would never move again.

The many people I knew or have come to know in the medical field, here at home, in the sky and at KMC, have likewise been wonderful; even when I was a less than perfect patient.

My first stay in a hospital since I was born lasted until May 11, when Debbie and my sister, Laura, driven by family friend Heather Gemmrig, came and got me and brought me home a week earlier than my doctor recommended. It's great to be back in the community I've grown to love as the home I never had.

While I have a long way to go to regain whatever I am able, being home again makes the work and toil easier somehow, and getting back to writing news and updating this site, even with a slow, one-handed start, gives me purpose.

It happened in an instant, and despite ample warning over long-term high blood pressure, a two-pack a day smoking habit and an over-fondness for beer, I never thought it would happen to me.

I am one of the more fortunate. As strokes go, mine was fairly mild; my mind wasn't muddled and I still have use of the hand I earn my living with. With work, I have a fair chance of re-learning the use of muscles I long took for granted.

While harsh, I've come to see this as a blessing, a warning shot across the bow. A sudden awakening and a second chance to truly appreciate the important things; family, friends and neighbors, the opportunity to give and be part of something much bigger and better than any single one of us.

I am grateful.