The Long and Winding Road to McCartney Had a Major Detour

After Paul McCartney finished his nearly three hour set (pre-encore) by playing “Hey, Jude,” I turned to Gina and told her:

“That’s it, I can die now. But I don’t have plans to do it any time soon.”

Sure, it is a bit of innocent hyperbole following the bucket list of bucket list moments – it’s my all-time favorite song performed by its artist. But after the previous few weeks we had gone through, it was nowhere close to innocent.

Less than two weeks before the concert, I was rushed to the hospital for what turned out to be a stroke.

Yeah, a stroke.

Now, let’s get it out of the way – I’m fine. Back to my normal self – whatever constituted normal in my world. I took a week off work, spent the next week working from home and returned to the office this past week. Still taking things slow, but it’s the perfect time, because the Friday before all this started was our last team sporting event. If you want a point of reference about what happened to me, you can look at Pennsylvania senate candidate John Fetterman.

I woke up on a Monday morning, and I had a blood clot in my brain that was jumbling up all my communication skills. People – including Gina, who called 911 immediately – would ask me questions and I couldn’t find the answers. I had some answers – I knew my name, I knew where I was – but it just wasn’t coming to me the way should. I wasn’t showing any of the signs they tell you to look for – drooping face, lack of strength (I walked down the stairs at home by myself) – just the fact that I wasn’t making any sense. My memory of some of it is foggy, but Gina says she asked what city we lived in, and I answered “Thursday.”

Within minutes, I was at Loma Linda University Medical Center. The folks at Loma Linda were amazing. Within minutes, I was getting a CT scan. Not long after that, it was off for an MRI (never want to do that again). Within three hours of arriving via ambulance, I was in the operating room as they went in and cleared the clot: And I was awake for the entire procedure. At some point, I realized they were playing music in the background (“Hotel California” was the first song I heard). Just was they finishing, I was reciting the lyrics to the song (“Stuck in the Middle With You”) that was playing at the time (singing would be a charitable description). I was back to “normal.” Heck, the anesthesiologist and I had a conversation about hockey (it was the day of Game 1 of the Kings-Oilers series). Turns out he loves going to Reign games, at which point I tried to sell him on the Fury, which ended when he said he tried it once, but didn’t like all the diving the players did (he must have come to a game against San Diego … I kid).

By mid-afternoon Monday, I was out of my ICU bed and sitting up watching TV, ready to go. The following morning, that was the first thing I wanted to do after waking up – get out of bed and sit up. I got a visit from the doctor who had done the surgery, and he spelled out all the issues I might run into – speech or physical therapy to help me regain any skills I might have lost, all the things associated with a stroke. Not long after he left, the therapists came in and tested me out – fine motor skills like brushing my teeth, and then walking around the ICU. After our short walk, they turned to Gina and I and said that they were going to let them know that I wasn’t going to need any of the therapy.

Tuesday late afternoon, I was transferred to a regular room, hooked up to far fewer gadgets, and free to move around without having to page a nurse to help me unhook or watch over me. And Wednesday morning I was given the all clear to go home.

Since then, everything has been good. We went to a baseball game that Saturday and attended the McCartney last Friday all the way in Inglewood.

As far as the cause? Stress played a role – the weeks leading up to the incident was full of the unease from the stolen McCartney tickets to some work-related drama that was causing all kinds of frustration. But that was a bit player in the process. Recently, I was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation, which was causing high blood pressure. Afib, I was told, is pretty common. I was prescribed some blood pressure meds, and was told in a very casual way to take baby aspirin and sent on my way. Because of several factors (relatively young age, non-smoker and non-drinker), I was considered to have a very low risk for any effects from the meds or the condition. I should also note that the Afib was found by doctors after another recent emergency room visit that turned out to be a pinched nerve in my arm. We now know how that risk assessment turned out. So there’s been some medication adjustments and a new focus forward.

As far as what I can pass on from this experience, a few thoughts. First, know the signs. The suggested acronym to think of is FAST: Face (does one side droop when you smile?), Arms (does one side fall when held up?), Speech (slurred, or strange when repeating a simple phrase), and Time (as in, don’t waste it, get to the ER). The one thing that I was told by the hospital on a follow up call is to absolutely call for an ambulance. The ambulance will get you to the hospital faster, and will be able to alert the hospital that a patient is incoming, rather than just having someone drive you there. After my procedure was done, they were gearing up for another stroke activation alert in the ER, and they were coming in via ambulance. I have no doubt that Gina’s no hesitation call to 911 that morning was what has me back to normal today.

Going forward, it’s the same push, to be better with one big subtraction: caffeine is out – it’s a big Afib no-no. I’ve never been a coffee or tea person, but the (too many) diet colas I was drinking every day are gone. Chocolate is another one that’s being severely cut back.

So, why am I telling you all this now? I don’t know. Just the overwhelming desire to write about it, I suppose. To tell my story. It’s what I do.

Anyway, I just thought it would help me process everything to put it out there. I’m not dying any time soon, so don’t lose any sleep. Know that if you’re reading this from my feed, that you matter, and not to ignore anything that might be bothering you health wise. We’re all in this together.