Peter's Experience
This story is the beginning of the 2004 journey to recovery that Peter experienced. Stroke Survival is very difficult, but with the right team, is very possible to regain your meaningful life. Please find Chapter 1, the autobiographical story Rewired.
REWIRED
Chapter 1
It Begins
The Sony radio alarm clock in the master bedroom wakes me early Tuesday morning, April 13th, 2004. It's raining heavily. I'm exhaustingly tired after sleeping my usual seven hours. I can't remember the last time I had a dream.
The day begins in the upstairs bedroom of our two-story colonial home in northern New Jersey. My wife Donna sleeps next to me, our two children, Austin, age 4 and Catherine age 2 are across the hall asleep in their bedrooms.
Catherine’s bedroom is pretty in pink. It is adorable and all setup just as Catherine, with the help of Mom, wants it and now loves it. Then there is Austin’s bedroom. Austin wanted his bedroom setup with Star Wars, NY Mets, NY Giants and sports figures plastered on his walls. Of course, that’s how Dad made it so.
Dragging myself out of bed, I walk down the stairs, across the hallway and into the kitchen. The coffee machine fired up as usual at 6:00am. The odor of Columbian coffee peruses the first floor. I need the coffee to wake up. As usual, I feel like crap. I can’t think clearly. My mind is not yet awake. Coffee with cream in hand I return up the flight of stairs exhausted! Downing the coffee, I begin to slowly wakeup and my thought process proceeds to accelerate as my company owning tasks become apparent. I make my way to the shower, turn on the hot water and jump in. That feels good, the hot water pouring down my back.
Finishing up the shower, I get out and wipe the fogged mirror. It takes most of my energy. I am still feeling weak and sleepy. I shave, brush my teeth, and finish my morning ablutions. Still half asleep, I'm buttoning my shirt when intense pain crashes into the left side of my skull and I scream. Ugh! Pain so intense, it disrupts normal thought processes.
Hearing my scream, Donna jumps out of bed and rushes to my side, "Are you okay? What’s wrong?" "Get away, leave me alone!" I shout. I'm still mad at her from the fight we'd had last night. We didn’t follow our normal “kiss and make up rule before going to sleep policy”. She curses at me, using words not worth repeating, and returns to bed. We haven’t been getting along lately.
The pain intensifies on the upper left side of my head and face. I stagger to the bed and collapse. It seems like an eternity, but only twelve minutes have passed as the pain begins to subside, along with my cognitive awareness. I force myself to get up and complete getting dressed. Finishing tying the red tie I walk downstairs, enter the office and proceed to gather my documents, fill my briefcase and head back upstairs to check on the kids and kiss them good bye. Climbing up the stairs I almost lose my balance. “I wasn’t drinking last night, what’s with my balance?” Entering my little blond haired daughter’s bedroom I gently give Catherine a kiss on her head and accomplish the same task with Austin across the hall in his bedroom. Once again traveling down the stairs I question my balance; it’s not as it usually is. “What is going on”? Making my way to the front door, I turn off the hall lights, set the alarm and exit my home locking the door. Walking to my new shiny Black Saab 95, with the push of a button I unlock the door, open it, toss my brief case on to the passenger seat and enter the car. Closing the door, I start her up and hear her turbo charged engine growl. I have not yet chosen the proper female’s name for my driving companion. We have to get to know each other first. I back out of the driveway and head off to work.
This is interesting, one incident on my way to work this morning stands out. Eastbound on Route 80 in bumper-to-bumper traffic, slowly moving forward, looking down at my CD player, I bump the car ahead of me. Shit! The driver jams his car into park and jumps out storming back to my window screaming indignant words. Feeling a little shaky, I step out saying, "Look, I'm sorry, there's no damage to your car. I barely bumped you.” He examines his car and agrees there is no damage. Traffic begins to move and we return to our vehicles and depart at a slow crawl. Again, I am feeling light headed, thoughts are incomplete, sketchy, distant. “God, what's wrong with me?” Exiting Rt. 80, riding on Jerome Ave I go for a few miles and reach the office. I turn right into the parking lot, go a couple hundred feet, and park in my usual assigned spot. Suddenly, without warning I realize throbs of agonizing pain have returned and are increasing in intensity on the left side of my skull. Struggling to get out of the car, I grab my briefcase, lock the door and walk inside the building pulling myself up the flight of stairs to the second floor. I didn’t remember that I would usually take the elevator to get to the second floor. I enter the building and walk down the hallway toward my office entrance. Walking has become difficult. I enter the office and say “good morning, Renee”.
I finally make it to my office, unlock the door and once again lose my balance entering my office. I make it to my black leather desk chair and collapse into it. “Wow, I don’t know what’s going on.” With a trembling hand, picking up the phone, I push Joe’s extension. Joe is my operations manager. "Joe, I don't feel good, I’m taking a nap. Please come close my door and wake me in an hour, we have the staff meeting at 10:00am.” Joe responds “Okay PJ, will do”. I put my feet up on the desk and pass out.
Awakening 45 minutes later I glance at my watch to ketch the time. I can't see it properly. Something's wrong with my vision. I mumble out loud to myself, "Shit, something's wrong! It now has become very apparent to me I have a big problem. I need to get to the hospital stat.
Standing on shaking legs, I walk into Joe's office. Almost losing my balance, holding on To the door knob, "Joe, get me to the hospital. I don't feel good, something's wrong." "My God, PJ! I'm calling an ambulance”. "No! You take me." By this time, I wasn’t thinking correctly at all. That was my first big mistake. I was disoriented and completely confused, but Joe obeyed and helped me walk from his office to the elevator. I take a few steps and almost collapse. Joe grabs me and slowly we make it into the elevator, down to the first floor and head to his car. At this point my memory is almost gone. How did I get to his car, enter the vehicle? I don't remember at all, but I do remember demanding to go to St. Clair's hospital in Denville. That was my second big mistake. St. Clair’s is a small hospital that I have learned not to use. I don't remember the trip there, going into the hospital, being admitted, the emergency room, being examined. It's blank, gone! My next clear memory is when I look up and see the ½ image of my wife and kids enter the room. For some reason, seeing them is burned into my conscious state. I look at my kids and have to turn my head almost sideways to see both of them simultaneously. I try to say hi, but I can't. I know who they are but can't fathom their names. “What’s wrong with me?” My mind goes blank, and once again I pass out. I don’t remember anything. Doctors, nurses or anyone in the hospital. All I can recall is seeing Donna enter with Catherine on her right and Austin on her left.
What's happened to me you may ask.? I have suffered an ischemic stroke. I have brain damage and permanent loss of fifty percent of my eyesight. I no longer remember specific times of my life. I don’t remember meeting Donna, falling in love, asking her to become my wife, marring her, or our honey moon. The times we had talking about
making babies, then doing so. A boy and a girl. And what I also miss is the love of my Mom, Dad and my brother. All gone. A distorted memory leaves no clear thoughts relating to time or events.
Hundreds, thousands of hours of my life, memories are operantly gone, wiped away in seconds, lost forever. I will spend the next 20 years of my life trying to rewire my brain.