A Week of Surprises and First Experiences

March 22–Snow falls on backyard bird feeders.

Well, that was a surprise. They had forecast a winter storm would pass north of Cedar Rapids today, with several inches of snow in the northern tier of Iowa counties.

In Cedar Rapids, we were to see some snow and rain. But the track of the snow, as it sometimes does, shifted at the last minute, and the temperature stayed just cold enough. The rain came last night, and then we got an unexpected generous serving of wet snow this morning. And as big as that surprise was, it was, for me, one of the minor surprises this week brought.

The morning scene Friday was unexpectedly white. Yet, it seemed like a dusting when I got up, so I shot an image with my phone, posted a joke about it, and went about my morning breakfast routine and prepared to go to work.

I had planned to drive today anyway—I bike on nice days but knew today would not be nice—but driving proved very challenging. The dusting had quicky intensified and heavy wet flakes were plopping down and quickly accumulating. Thus, the 10-mintue trip to campus was slippery, and I saw several cars stuck along the way. But I was in a front-wheel-drive minivan, a relatively large vehicle, and thought I would be OK.

I was both right and wrong. Right in the sense that I got to campus and avoided having an accident. But when I got there I got stuck on several inclines.

Each parking lot entrance to Mount Mercy University involves some climb. There is no flat route onto the campus we call The Hill. And I tried several entrances in the snow this morning—the drive to the lot behind Warde Hall first. When I failed to get up that hill, I backed into the street, got stuck for a while there and ended up going the wrong way, going away from campus, down the street to avoid a hill.

Daffodil in front yard March 20.

Same flower, March 22. Less sunny look.

So, I drove the long way around, by the Plaster Athletic Complex, and came at campus from the other direction. This time, I successfully tried to get enough momentum to get up the Prairie Drive Hill, where I had been stuck for a while. But when I turned to get into the parking lot, did I make it?

No dice. Lots of ice. Oddly enough, I could drive 3.5 miles and get to campus, but never got 20 yards up any incline to enter a campus parking lot.

So, I drove home. One must adjust when life throws you a curve ball. And, as I noted, the surprise snow storm today was, to me, the little curve.

The big, big curve was Wednesday afternoon. A colleague came to my office and chatted with me, and asked for an update from the week’s faculty meeting. Well, times are tough at MMU, and he was a bit startled by my report. Monday’s meeting had been another curve in this curvy week—but it still not the big one.

After he left, I was arising to go down the hall to the bathroom when the Big Surprise quickly and unexpectedly caught me. Suddenly, I was only partly in control of my body. My right arm felt 10 times too heavy and unresponsive to my commands. Walking was suddenly difficult as signals to my right leg apparently were getting lost in some sort of massive nerve mail mix-up.

Which was exactly what was happening. The truly bad storm of the week was entirely in my own head. The left side of my brain was clearly malfunctioning—and I was savvy enough to understand that these are symptoms of a stroke.

Which it sort of was, fortunately, only sort of. I managed to successfully visit the bathroom and return to my office, which was an unusual act of grit and will far beyond what it usually is. Then I called my wife and told her what was going on, and she said she would come get me immediately. I lay down on my futon and did a Duolingo lesson (not entirely random, I wanted to check my mental powers of both speech and memory). Holding the phone with my hooky-playing right hand was the challenge, but fortunately speaking a bit of Mandarin turned out not to be no more challenging than usual.

Slowly, my rebelling right side began to check back in. Feeling returned to my largely numb leg first. Then my arm began to feel 3 or 4 times too heavy, not 10 times, and the arm was a bit more responsive to signals from my ailing brain. I was able to gather my school bag and camera bag, and walk more or less normally out to await my wife outside. I got in the Subaru with her, and we quickly consulted.

Urgent care or ER? ER, we quickly agreed. Hospital or Hiawatha? We thought we might get seen sooner at Hiawatha, so we went there, which led to one of many first experiences for me, Wednesday and Thursday:

• First ambulance ride. When they decided at the ER I should go to the hospital, I thought my wife would drive me there, but the doctor said I needed to be under constant medical supervision because—well—the big stroke could be looming.

• First overnight stay as a patient in a hospital since late August, 1958, when I was born. By the time I got to Mercy Medical Center, I felt worn out, I had a headache, but I was also fully, if a bit clumsily, ambulatory on my own—but they wanted to check me out and monitor me overnight.

So many things. A blood draw—not my first, but the first one in a hospital bed. I have long known that hospital stays were likely in my future, and honestly, having an IV put in and having blood removed were always my top fears. The IV did hurt and made a bit of a bloody mess, and I sure did not enjoy the blood draw—but I handled both better than I ever thought I would.

A battery of tests. Lie in this loud machine while brain pictures are made. Lie in this bed while neck vein images, and later, heart images and videos, are made. Touch my hand. Stick out your tongue. Track the finger with your eyes. Put up your arms and don’t let me push them down. Put up your leg and don’t let me push it down. What’s in this picture? Can you read this card back to me?

I appreciate that each medical professional who asked was doing their own assessment, and I didn’t resent any of the test, but they were rather repetitive. My one pleasure was that all of “them” were a little surprised—I could push them away or pull them towards me or resist their tugs easily. The old guy was stronger than they expected.

Well, I did ride a bicycle 50 miles to Solon and back just last week. And I get frequent workouts playing with grandkids.

As it turned out, the tests showed that I didn’t have a full-blown stroke, which is good. My brain showed no signs of permanent injury. But the doctor did describe what I had as a TIA, which he called a “mini-stroke.” And now, I’m taking a new drug and a higher dose of previous drug, and I have several upcoming medical appointments. I’m writing this with a heart monitor taped to my chest.

But I am home. I even actually managed to drive to campus and work for a while this afternoon.

My morning cell phone image. Caption from Facebook: Hey March: It’s come in like a lion, not “get all liony 3/4 of the way through.” #iowaweather

Life is too full of surprises. Dustings of snow that turn into storms. A suddenly fading feeling on the right side and suddenly half your body is not fully yours anymore. It all is a reminder that life is indeed fleeting. We are fragile creatures of flesh and eventually we fall apart.

But to be honest, I kind of felt good today. The people at Mercy Medical Center were kind, passionate about they did, and very comforting. I did indeed feel like there was a “Mercy touch” that I appreciated. And today I was back home with a woman I love and appreciate now more than ever.

So, when I drove to work and couldn’t get up The Hill, well, it just didn’t bother me. I knew today that it is just not a big deal.

The snow fell but the daffodils still looked so pretty, sunny yellow against white—the promise of spring that is still coming.

There are storms in life, but flowers and beauty, too. I, of course, hope I’m around to see much more of that beauty and experience many more of these fickle Iowa springs, but that’s not all under my control. And that is just the way of it. So, savor the moments that you are given, friends. And just do your best to deal with the storms that come your way—with the help of the others around you.