The Perfect Storm

It was a perfect storm of issues that faced my survival. Had I been in a more urbanized location the damage would not have been so bad. A friend of the family had a son who was a cyclists, and he crashed while in a race. Despite his helmet he was in critical care. When he was put into the ambulance the responders were able to get oxygen to his brain. Again mine was without it for four hours.

It is not an emergency that one expects or prepares for a healthy thirteen year old kid with no history of stroke suddenly collapsing during a basketball game. For years I’ve been left to wonder why this happened. And the best response myself and family received from doctors was “The brain is a mystery.”

Stroke can occur in people as young and even younger than thirteen, but it is often associated with some family trait or obesity. I was none of these things. In fact, at one point I held state track records for the 11-12 year old group for the state of Vermont. But I was alive. I was also in incredible pain. I remember asking many times for morphine. This would dull the pain enough to where I would sleep. Long days blurred together in a waking fever of pain and delirium.

The comma had left me with very little muscle control and I could not do much more than sit. I did not even have the ability to keep my head up; the muscles in my neck unable to bear the weight of my injured brain. It was a miserable state to be in. Something positive though, my room had been decorated with letters from schoolmates. Get well soon was written in bright lettering signed in many different hands.

And how my basketball team did without me? They ended up placing third in the tournament. I still find it incredible that they managed to finish the game.