The Time I Didn't Have a Stroke

I decided to let the kid unroll of the toilet paper in the house and write this today.

I guess the title kind of ruins the suspense, but I have never been a fan of suspense anyway.

This all occurred last year when I was about six months pregnant with Shaye Baby.

It was a regular spring night. The Coach was at a baseball game and the kids and I were hanging out at home eating dinner. After dinner I was helping the kids clean the kitchen and noticed I couldn't exactly say the words I wanted to. I tried to tell the kids to put the leftovers in Tupperware, but I couldn't find the word Tupperware in my head. Or any of the kids' names. I kept calling them all Ty. This seemed strange to me so I took Tayte out in the back yard and thought it would go away if I just relaxed. At that point I noticed I could only see half of everything I looked at.

So I came back in and tried to focus on the kids' faces, but I could only ever see half of their faces an the other half was obscured by a gray fog. I wasn't hurting anywhere so I thought I would just sit and it would go away. It didn't.

Finally I called my mom. I thought I said very coherently, "Mom, I have a problem. I can't talk properly and I my vision is foggy." What I really said was, "Mom................I ...................have.............troubles. Can't..............words. Only..............see." With a budding panic she asked me where The Coach was. I was triumphant because I thought I managed to say, "at a game", but what I had said was, "He.............on...........plane."

Fifteen minutes later my parents were at my house. Astonishing really since they live thirty minutes away. They started asking me all kinds of questions like, "What year is it?" and "Who is the president?" Then they wanted me to raise my arms and grin. I was already quite befuddled, but these party games had me really confused. (I realized later they were afraid I was having a stroke.)

They conferred with each other (not with me) and decided I needed to go to the ER. I didn't want to, but I couldn't find the words to argue which made me realize I should probably go.

So we went. My dad took me.

This was during the peak of the swine flu scare. So everyone and their brother was at the ER moaning and groaning and sneezing. I made some observations while I was there. If it is late at night and a kid is flying through the ER waiting room climbing on top of people and hollering like a banshee...they are probably not so ill. Second - only so many entire families can fit into the ER waiting room and if at all possible if one parent cold stay home with the other two or three kids that may be advisable.

Finally I observed that if someone calls your husband in the middle of a baseball game and tells him his pregnant wife had to be taken to the ER he might arrive looking like a crazy person. (Sorry, but after years of being a coach's wife I just don't call him at all during games. Plus I wasn't exactly in a logical state of mind.)

At this point my dad went home to help mom with the kids and The Coach and his boss and wife stayed with us. (They were so kind to leave the game and come hang out with us, risking swine flu and everything.)

We waited. And waited. And waited. Despite the fact I was pregnant and we thought I may be having a stroke. Finally we were called.

I went back and they asked me to put on a gown and take off everything but my undies. Oops. I was wearing my jama pants already. Commando. They conceded I could keep the undies. They put me through the regular battery of tests, urine, blood, SATs, whatever. Then they told me to wait for the tech for a CT scan.

At long last I was wheeled into the CT scan room. The tech looked at me dubiously and I thought, "I haven't had the test yet. He can't ALREADY have bad news." He bent down and looked me in the eye and very gravely said, "Your urine test just came back and I have to inform you that you are pregnant.

No shit? (I am sorry about the expletive, but really it is the only thing that covers it.)

I was SIX MONTHS pregnant. Now I know people on Oprah and stuff are always surprise giving birth. I think there is even a tv show solely about this subject, but I ain't one of those people. What did he think? I had just eaten a watermelon? Besides the fact I had already told everyone I was pregnant less they give me some horrible medication that would cause me to give birth to a three armed baby.

They proceeeded with the tests. I began to doubt the competence of this medical facility. I had to be admitted.

The next day P$ came and gave me candy and magazines and cookies. I often fantasize about going back to the hospital just to receive such princess like treatment.

I'll skip the rest because it involves my boobs being twisted into a pretzel by someone who didn't even tell me her name and consequently me crying.

I have complicatd migraines. At the time it didn't hurt because hormones were blocking the pain. I still get them from time to time and now...they HURT. I had to see a neurologist and have a bunch of tests. So I am good. No strokes, no tumors. Just miraines. Not surprising really since my dad also has migraines, just a different kind.

Last time I had one I tried to conceal it by not talking, but The Coach figured it out. Smart guy, I am rarely quiet.

So that's my story. It ran a little long.

I am linking up with True Story Tuesday. Go there and check it out.

I am also linking up with I Finally Got To Finish a Post this Summer. Just kidding. I made that up. :)