Last Updated on February 19, 2024 by The Smetz Files
I have thought endlessly about if and how to write this post. I’ve thought about it for months in quiet moments driving and fleeting instances of contemplative reflection. I’ve drafted it mentally and yet, I’ve not been able to sit down and write it.
Recently I’ve connected with a couple of friends who have shared experiences with medical trauma and their partners and it was cathartic and yet, I still haven’t found the words to type. Perhaps I’ve struggled to write this because it isn’t my story to tell. But after speaking with two other wives who cared for their husbands during medical trauma, I felt empowered to more closely examine our shared experience.
In previous posts I referenced Jay had a series of strokes in 2015. It’s not an understatement to say his stroke and subsequent recovery was life changing, certainly for him, but also for how we prioritized and planned aspects of our life with our young children. There were moments of relief, points of ongoing challenge, and we have always felt gratitude for the outcome we were granted. For the most part we recalibrated and with the exception of some lingering symptoms, Jay was overall healthy.
A Stroke at 30 Wasn’t in Our Plans
We celebrated Jay’s good health on October 16th, that day marked the seventh anniversary of his stroke. Each year, on the 16th, we take a moment and offer a prayer of gratitude for his health. Not a regular on social media, Jay always posts a motivational quote to mark the anniversary. And this past year, G pitched a gem to clinch a tournament championship, so it felt like all the stars aligned to make October 16th a day of celebration and one that recognized perseverance.
Fear
All of that equilibrium came woefully off balance November 3rd this past year. A mere two weeks later we found ourselves back in the same emergency room with the all too familiar stroke symptoms.
Jay hadn’t felt well for nearly a week. He had a debilitating headache and neck pain that became increasingly worse over several days. That Thursday morning, as he drove to work he called me, and I could hear it in his voice, the head and neck pain was unbearable, and he was scared. Somehow he made it work, but within a couple of hours, the pain was excruciating and relentless, so he snuck off to a private room to call me. He asked me to meet him at the emergency room. His words felt like a dousing of cold water.
Autopilot
I quickly gathered provisions for what I knew would be a long day and drove the short distance to the satellite emergency department near our house. We walked into a packed waiting room. COVID was rampant and urgent cares and emergency departments were overflowing with patients. All guests were asked to wait outside until their patient was called. Reluctantly, I waited in the car, made the necessary calls to work to realign my tasks for the day and began to pray that this was not as bad as my instinct felt it was.
Fortunately, with Jay’s history of stroke his case was expedited and I was quickly called into his room where they had begun documenting his case, ordering tests, and attempting pain relief via IV concoctions.
Unfortunately, this was the beginning of a long day of tests, attempts to manage his pain, and lots and lots of waiting. As the hours ticked by I quietly made childcare arrangements; I called the school to let them know it was okay for a fellow mom friend to pick up our kids. I called my parents to plan how to get the kids to practice and fed dinner in case we weren’t home. I had no grand delusions we would be, it was already mid afternoon with no test results, no pain relief, and no end in sight. Jay was becoming increasingly agitated and my fear and anxiety waxed and waned as he struggled to relax. At times we talked through possibilities, but mostly we waited in silence.
Unexpected finding
Late that afternoon, after several tests and multiple attempts to alleviate his pain, they found a concoction that took the edge off. We met with a doctor who reported his MRI indicated he was not having another stroke. A wave of relief washed over me and I silently thanked God for answering my prayers. The relief was temporary though, because he followed that statement with, but we detected a ‘spot’, a brain aneurysm and we have a vascular specialist ready to see you at the main hospital.
We asked questions as they hurriedly began the transport process. Again, another replica of his prior stroke, he was transported via ambulance to the main hospital while I followed behind, anxiously praying, simultaneously planning all the help we’d need with childcare, the dog, and life in general. It was at this point I had to make the unenviable phone call to his parents. They had just spent the day driving to Pennsylvania to be with his grandparents for the weekend. This was not a fun phone call to make given we had very little answers and were unsure what his treatment protocol might entail.
I quickly stopped at home to gather the essentials: his current medications to confirm with hospital staff, cozy clothes for both of us, and device chargers. I hadn’t eaten in hours, so I quickly scarfed down some leftovers as I ran around the house gathering what I thought might make him comfortable for his hospital stay.
This is part one of a longer piece. A continuation will be posted soon.
EDITED
Read the continuation of Jay’s health journey.
