In April of 2008 I finally decided I would realize a goal I had wanted to accomplish for some time. On the seat of my pants I decided I would run in the Detroit Marathon. My friends and family, while supportive, thought I was insane. Realistically, who signs up to run 26.2 miles, willingly? Me. And another 1/4 of a million people throughout the US that participate in Marathons every year.
I have always been active and ran on my school track team throughout grade school, but as a sprinter. My longest race was the 200 meter, which honestly, seemed too long for me at the time. Not being a distance runner, I did my research, found a training program that seemed doable and off I went. For six months I trained diligently. Rain or shine, 100 degrees with 99% humidity, or cold, rainy October nights, I ran. As my faithful training companion I had my ipod with nike+. This neat technology kept me honest and as a little added perk, every now and then Niel Armstrong would congratulate me on my longest/fastest run! I hit the road hard- me,my ipod, and my trusted water bottle- nothing else.
The morning of October 19th came early- at 5:30 am to be exact. It was a chilly morning. In the back of my mind I hoped that my knee, which has been known to act up, would behave. My biggest worry of the morning was that I would not be able to meet up with my parents amongst the large crowd. Alas, late, I was able to give them hugs and they wished me luck. My sister proudly took pictures of me as I anxiously awaited the start of the race. We decided on some areas were we could meet, coming out of the tunnel and after lapping Belle Isle.
As the race started, I found that running amongst so many people was not easy. I had decided to try to run with the 9 minute pace group. As we all went on our way, we weaved in and out of people. The Detroit Marathon is the only marathon to cross international lines twice. I ran in the city toward the Ambassador Bridge, it was a tough hill. As I came up to the highest point of the hill, it was beautiful. The sun was rising perfectly with my pace.
I started to get a little bit tired at the bridge- the 5 mile mark. I quickly realized that my 9 minute miles were meant to be nothing but an old goal. My pace group left me behind but I gladly encountered the first water station. I had never competed in a race of this sort before and realized that drinking while running was harder than I expected. I slowed my pace, finished my water and ditched the cup.
Feeling refreshed I got back in my grove and continued. I was quickly approaching the portion of the race that runs along the river. As I ran, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my head. I didn’t pay to much attention to it, but could not help noticing the feeling of a small explosion in my head. I tried to shake it off but suddenly I tripped on my own left foot. Now, those who know me well, know I am sometimes not the most coordinated person- so these things happen. However, I again, dragged my left foot, this time thinking I was going to ruin my fairly new shoes, I hate scuffs on my shoes!
Then I could no longer stand upright and fell into the ground. Damn- I’m clumsy, I thought. My knee was bloody and the palms of my hands were scratched. Embarrassed more than anything, I wanted to play it off and get up and keep running as quickly as possible. As I tried to stand up I kept stumbling. A nice fellow marathoner tried to help me get up. He tried a few times and then told me he was going to get help. Hating to have attention on me, I told him I was fine. But he left me sitting in a grassy area. I tried to get up unsuccessfully. I tried to convince people if they could only help me get on my hands and knees I could get up and keep running.
Finally, a police officer on a bike came to me, he asked me what was happening. I told him nothing and that I was good to go. For some reason, that I could not understand, everyone seemed concerned about something. The police officer called for more help.
Next came a golf cart. I this point, I could not longer sit up without support. I felt very unsteady and dizzy, I women first responder kept asking me to stay up. Obviously, if I could I would, lady! I heard the guy telling someone on the other end of the radio that I had Bell’s Palsy. I knew that this meant that half of my face was paralyzed, but this couldn’t be. He was wrong, and I told him so. Next thing I knew I was being loaded into an ambulance on the way to the hospital. It was in the ambulance that I noticed I couldn’t really feel my left arm. I think this is why the paramedic kept yelling at me to keep my arm still. But I was moving it to see where it was.
I was taken to Hotel du Grace hostpial in Windsor, Canada. There they told me I was having an stroke. I argued with the physicians and told them they were wrong. Finally after not being able to convince them otherwise, my horror went to two places. First was my family's reaction to this news, second was to get the drug I had heard so much about that reverses the affects of a stoke. I knew there was a certain time-frame this needed to be given to be affective. The doctors kept telling me that they could not give this medication to me, because it could cause more damage if my brain was bleeding. Damn, this sucks.
For some unknown reason close to three hours went by without the hospital calling my family. I was terrified but slightly happy. My family not knowing was kind of like it wasn’t happening. After all who has a stroke at 22? It wasn’t true anyway, why put my family through the anguish. Finally one of the ER doctors asked me for the phone number of someone who they could call. I’m not sure who’s number i gave them but I do remember explaining to the doctor that while my parents are completely competent in English and understand it perfectly he would need to speak slowly. I was terrified for my family and how they would feel. I put myself in their shoes.
A few years ago my sister was in a car accident. My dad got the call and I went with him to the crash site. Thank God everyone was okay but I will never forget the look on my dad’s face. He was in pure panic, I had never seen him like that. And that made me panic. I couldn’t imagine how they would react. I love my parents with all my heart, but man, they are WAY over protective of my sister and me. How would they handle this? Turns out pretty well. I have no idea what the doctor told them or how fast they got there, and frankly I’m glad I don’t. I just remember being SO glad that someone was finally there.
They got to me about the time that the hospital decided they would transfer me to UofM. Not sure how we came on this decision...but off I went. My mom rode with me in the ambulance. The only “ID” she had with her was a credit card, which is pretty funny if you know my mom and her love of shopping. She had left everything else at home, what would she need anything for standing around waiting for me to finish a marathon?? Anyway, now my mom gets to tell people (or at least I do..) that she crossed the Canadian-American border with only a credit card.
Once at UofM Hospital, I could already move my left side, but still had not regained the feeling in it 100%. I was admitted the the Neuro Intensive Care unit for a few days for close observation. The NICU- which also stands for the neonatal intensive care unit, two different places turns out...which my sister learned quickly. After that I spent another two and a 1/2 weeks in the hospital being poked and prodded and put through a lot of machines. The rest is history. I officially became a 22 year-old Acute Ischemic Basil Gangliar Stroke victim.
This blog will hopefully let me express my frustrations and insights on all I have learned through my journey. I can’t make any promises, but I will try to make it as entertaining as I can.
I have always been active and ran on my school track team throughout grade school, but as a sprinter. My longest race was the 200 meter, which honestly, seemed too long for me at the time. Not being a distance runner, I did my research, found a training program that seemed doable and off I went. For six months I trained diligently. Rain or shine, 100 degrees with 99% humidity, or cold, rainy October nights, I ran. As my faithful training companion I had my ipod with nike+. This neat technology kept me honest and as a little added perk, every now and then Niel Armstrong would congratulate me on my longest/fastest run! I hit the road hard- me,my ipod, and my trusted water bottle- nothing else.
The morning of October 19th came early- at 5:30 am to be exact. It was a chilly morning. In the back of my mind I hoped that my knee, which has been known to act up, would behave. My biggest worry of the morning was that I would not be able to meet up with my parents amongst the large crowd. Alas, late, I was able to give them hugs and they wished me luck. My sister proudly took pictures of me as I anxiously awaited the start of the race. We decided on some areas were we could meet, coming out of the tunnel and after lapping Belle Isle.
As the race started, I found that running amongst so many people was not easy. I had decided to try to run with the 9 minute pace group. As we all went on our way, we weaved in and out of people. The Detroit Marathon is the only marathon to cross international lines twice. I ran in the city toward the Ambassador Bridge, it was a tough hill. As I came up to the highest point of the hill, it was beautiful. The sun was rising perfectly with my pace.
I started to get a little bit tired at the bridge- the 5 mile mark. I quickly realized that my 9 minute miles were meant to be nothing but an old goal. My pace group left me behind but I gladly encountered the first water station. I had never competed in a race of this sort before and realized that drinking while running was harder than I expected. I slowed my pace, finished my water and ditched the cup.
Feeling refreshed I got back in my grove and continued. I was quickly approaching the portion of the race that runs along the river. As I ran, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my head. I didn’t pay to much attention to it, but could not help noticing the feeling of a small explosion in my head. I tried to shake it off but suddenly I tripped on my own left foot. Now, those who know me well, know I am sometimes not the most coordinated person- so these things happen. However, I again, dragged my left foot, this time thinking I was going to ruin my fairly new shoes, I hate scuffs on my shoes!
Then I could no longer stand upright and fell into the ground. Damn- I’m clumsy, I thought. My knee was bloody and the palms of my hands were scratched. Embarrassed more than anything, I wanted to play it off and get up and keep running as quickly as possible. As I tried to stand up I kept stumbling. A nice fellow marathoner tried to help me get up. He tried a few times and then told me he was going to get help. Hating to have attention on me, I told him I was fine. But he left me sitting in a grassy area. I tried to get up unsuccessfully. I tried to convince people if they could only help me get on my hands and knees I could get up and keep running.
Finally, a police officer on a bike came to me, he asked me what was happening. I told him nothing and that I was good to go. For some reason, that I could not understand, everyone seemed concerned about something. The police officer called for more help.
Next came a golf cart. I this point, I could not longer sit up without support. I felt very unsteady and dizzy, I women first responder kept asking me to stay up. Obviously, if I could I would, lady! I heard the guy telling someone on the other end of the radio that I had Bell’s Palsy. I knew that this meant that half of my face was paralyzed, but this couldn’t be. He was wrong, and I told him so. Next thing I knew I was being loaded into an ambulance on the way to the hospital. It was in the ambulance that I noticed I couldn’t really feel my left arm. I think this is why the paramedic kept yelling at me to keep my arm still. But I was moving it to see where it was.
I was taken to Hotel du Grace hostpial in Windsor, Canada. There they told me I was having an stroke. I argued with the physicians and told them they were wrong. Finally after not being able to convince them otherwise, my horror went to two places. First was my family's reaction to this news, second was to get the drug I had heard so much about that reverses the affects of a stoke. I knew there was a certain time-frame this needed to be given to be affective. The doctors kept telling me that they could not give this medication to me, because it could cause more damage if my brain was bleeding. Damn, this sucks.
For some unknown reason close to three hours went by without the hospital calling my family. I was terrified but slightly happy. My family not knowing was kind of like it wasn’t happening. After all who has a stroke at 22? It wasn’t true anyway, why put my family through the anguish. Finally one of the ER doctors asked me for the phone number of someone who they could call. I’m not sure who’s number i gave them but I do remember explaining to the doctor that while my parents are completely competent in English and understand it perfectly he would need to speak slowly. I was terrified for my family and how they would feel. I put myself in their shoes.
A few years ago my sister was in a car accident. My dad got the call and I went with him to the crash site. Thank God everyone was okay but I will never forget the look on my dad’s face. He was in pure panic, I had never seen him like that. And that made me panic. I couldn’t imagine how they would react. I love my parents with all my heart, but man, they are WAY over protective of my sister and me. How would they handle this? Turns out pretty well. I have no idea what the doctor told them or how fast they got there, and frankly I’m glad I don’t. I just remember being SO glad that someone was finally there.
They got to me about the time that the hospital decided they would transfer me to UofM. Not sure how we came on this decision...but off I went. My mom rode with me in the ambulance. The only “ID” she had with her was a credit card, which is pretty funny if you know my mom and her love of shopping. She had left everything else at home, what would she need anything for standing around waiting for me to finish a marathon?? Anyway, now my mom gets to tell people (or at least I do..) that she crossed the Canadian-American border with only a credit card.
Once at UofM Hospital, I could already move my left side, but still had not regained the feeling in it 100%. I was admitted the the Neuro Intensive Care unit for a few days for close observation. The NICU- which also stands for the neonatal intensive care unit, two different places turns out...which my sister learned quickly. After that I spent another two and a 1/2 weeks in the hospital being poked and prodded and put through a lot of machines. The rest is history. I officially became a 22 year-old Acute Ischemic Basil Gangliar Stroke victim.
This blog will hopefully let me express my frustrations and insights on all I have learned through my journey. I can’t make any promises, but I will try to make it as entertaining as I can.
