Laces

It started out as a normal day. He didn't realize that it would not end as a normal day until he bent down to tie his shoes. He learned to tie them in kindergarten, and today, 40 years later he couldn't make his hands perform this simple task. He stumbled outside for some air. Anything, he figured, to stop this strange feeling. The phone rang, but he couldn't answer it. He had to let it ring. He tried again to tie his shoes, and yet still his hands wouldn't cooperate. The phone rang again and it seemed miles away.

Long minutes passed, and he was now almost completely immobile. Not only would his right hand not tie his shoes, now his right leg wouldn't bend to bring his foot to his hands. His cell phone futilely vibrated on the counter.

Sirens penetrated his foggy mind. Paramedics arrived and recognized the symptoms of a stroke. Stroke. That word alone reverberated in his mind. They asked many questions, and he was slow to answer. He couldn't organize his words, and they were hard to understand. He was on a stretcher. An IV, an EKG, a call to the hospital and they were off. They gave him all the facts. The siren was on.

Blood was drawn, tests ordered, he was whisked to CAT scan. Soon after, the doctor explained about a medicine. tPA, it was called. It might help, or it may not, and it could kill him. The potential side effects were scary. But he was in a precious window, they must act quickly. He agreed; anything to stop this feeling, whatever the risk.

They wanted to take him to another hospital. A bigger one that might help, or might not. Wanted to take him in a helicopter. It was feeling very serious and his growing terror further clouded his thinking. He agreed, he would agree to anything.

The flight team came looking ready for anything. In a flash he found himself outside being wheeled toward the aircraft, wearing a large headset. The paramedic was explaining takeoff, rattling off instructions. Soon, he was high above, wishing it was a normal day.
Suddenly, he felt himself gripping the side of the stretcher. The medic noticed, and he squeezed his hands. "Equal grip strength." was said into his headset. He held up his arms, he wiggled his toes, he took a deep breath of free air.

He will never again fail to appreciate the simple task of tying his shoes.

Comments

Unknown said…
Good God.... Very scary stuff, indeed. And if I were him, I'd be feeling the same way, I'm sure.

Great post, Ellie.

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