It began as a quiet, uneventful Fall Day – October 18, 2006.
Today, it has been 16 years since that horrific day, and I am again writing for this newspaper. What began as simplicity ended in full terror. One might say that it was a "matter of life and death." And, this is the first time that I have acknowledged that horrible day. I did later learn that a close family friend had sent a flower arrangement to the funeral home in my memory. Gossip spreads quickly in small-town Smithville, TN.
And, as the words stream: “life changes, death erases, and (sic) memories live on,” this sentence is a brief summation of many affected lives during this overwhelming health-crisis time.
It all began with a severe pounding headache, which Tylenol would not touch. Initially I was totally unconscious, and primarily experiencing small preliminary strokes. On the advice of my physician, I then was taken by a local ambulance to a Nashville Hospital. Dr. Hugh Don Cripps of Smithville told my oldest son, Jim, that initially I was having TIA’s, the shortened abbreviation for Transient Ischemic Attack, which is a God-given warning sign that larger, more serious strokes were forthcoming. TIA’s are also medically referred to as “mini strokes.”
While hospitalized in Nashville, TN and to determine if I had suffered additional strokes, the hospital physicians began a diagnostic Arteriogram. During the pre-testing time, I was awake, alert, and sitting upright in a hospital chair. Jim said I had seemed to return to pre-normalcy after having the TIA’s. Later, it was during this medical test that I had an estimated 3-8 massive strokes. We never knew the exact cause of the many strokes nor did the doctors. I was placed on a Ventilator to assist in my breathing and I spent five weeks in the Neuro Intensive Care Unit with three daily limited visitation times. Time moved quickly.
For clarity, an Arteriogram is “an X-ray of the blood vessels. It’s used to look for changes in the blood vessels, such as: Ballooning of a blood vessel (aneurysm); narrowing of a blood vessel (stenosis) blockage.” Dye is then run through the patient’s veins, looking for any blockages or malformities. The patient is awake during the entire hospital procedure,” wrote Mayo Clinic.
Initially, I had no memory or recollection of my surroundings. It was only recently that I remembered being so close to death, while living in a darkened existence. All of my sensory availabilities were also dead. I was left in a non-preventable vegetative state. Time stood still. For several years afterward, I retained my mastery off the English language.
My short-term memory too w\ affected. However, my long-term memory seemed to be mildly touched. I became a master of any history quiz, my college minor. Jim commented that “You stayed very well adept at English grammar, also,” my college major.
Prayers were prayed continuously and throughout many Christian denominations. Somehow, I think I could feel each of them, along with Mom, Jim, Mac, Lucy, and Beeze.
And so, when the hospital physicians gave their medical report, the following was revealed to my family: “LeAnn could be completely brain-dead. She did stop breathing for a few minutes. You need to decide if you want to remove her from life-support.” In all contexts, there were more health questions than answers.
One incident that happened while I was hospitalized was when my two sons, Jim and Mac, witnessed their mother turning dark blue on the hospital gurney. Doctors and nurses were working frantically to bring me back to life. I truly wished my sons had not witnessed these traumatic life-saving measures. I’m sure they were frighteningly graphic.
Life stopped for my family and friends. Tears flowed. My memory recall for the entire time was zero limited – and all my thoughts and dreams no longer existed. Time and events stopped. All I could deduce was a black hole that captured everything, even my senses and my memory-recall.
It was a couple of days later when things began to change.
“SURPRISE!!!,” I said plainly and totally unexpectedly.
“HI, LUALLEN,” I said frightfully. I had been dying to live. I never gave up and it shows today. Jamie Anderson came to the hospital and removed my hair extensions. Dr. Locke and Jimmy McDowell from Lucy’s Lebanon church came to the hospital many times and prayed over me. My immediate family and friends almost never left my side the entire time. Louise Owen helped me with speech therapy, as my speech and regular breathing had been stroke-affected. Additionally, I could not feed myself or chew food nor could I walk. Jim firmly remembered that I could TALK. With what brain I had left, I began working to improve myself and it was extremely painful. Jim kept my mind busy doing Word Search puzzles, occupational and physical therapy. My favorite pastime, reading, became problematic because the strokes had damaged my peripheral (side) vision. It’s the same scenario as driving an automobile. Dr. Randolph Evans said a big fat “NO!” to driving again. But he didn’t know Jim. One sunny day, Jim let me drive his car while complimenting me on my driving and directions. For me, it had been years. Little did I know that this would be my last time. “Mom drove fine. She did back up into a trash can. Otherwise, she knew where to go and drove as well as I did,” said Jim Judkins. It was the end of my 37 years of flawlessly operating a vehicle.
Additionally, 16.5 years ago, I couldn’t dress myself or focus my eyes to watch anything. My speech was impaired as was my balance. And to worsen matters, I became Houdini, the escape artist, and began unlocking doors at Mom’s house on Webb Street and began escaping and running away from home. Lucy was my rescuer the majority of the time. Finally, she decided to place locks on the doors to keep me from running away from home. It worked. I called most things my “Cherokee Baby” and no one knows why. Jim believes I heard the song “Cherokee Nation” on television and added baby to the name. If my body temperature was hot or cold, I would yell “Central Heat and Air Unit,” a brevity for heating or air-conditioning.
Not to forget, the countless number of times that I had an empty seat in anyone’s unlocked automobile, waiting for my family to rescue me, especially Jim. Although troublesome and annoying actions, much kindnesses reverberated throughout. Personally, all cars were the same color, so all cars were mine.
To readjust ourselves to life’s changes, a special photo of me was taken during Christmas, 2006 at Lucy’s Hermitage house. I was drinking coffee from a measuring cup!!! It must have been delicious. All round cups became drinking cups too.
Please note that several years of my life have disappeared. This is the first and only time for remembering my health scare. Yet, my memory is beyond intact, gradually returning slowly through the passing years. Initially, the memories and thought processes were absent from my mind. The unforeseen strokes took away an important part of my young life. I was just 51-years-old when I first became ill. By utilizing continued hard work and various rehabilitation services, I could see the light over the bridge. And my young age was a positive factor in my recovery. It was always there, waiting for me to find and use it.
My numerous personal strokes were caused from having Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, said Mayo Clinic. The auto-immune disease is also blamed for a stillbirth in 1983. This was another time I almost died, which leads me to believe I have nine lives.
True, everything was not all roses. I have spent the majority of these past 16 years in rehabilitation/recovery centers throughout middle Tennessee. And, I have been told not to return to one facility in Old Hickory, TN because I had “quit trying.” There’s something about physical work that disagrees with me! Always has – always will. I cannot imagine the feelings and exhaustion of my family members. Jim’s and Mac’s Daddy. Marlon, had only been dead for nine years prior to my illness. Too much, too soon.
When I returned to Smithville, I lived at NHC for several months undergoing physical therapy. I later moved in with Mom on Webb Street. Soon thereafter, I called Lori Webb, who immediately assigned me a private room at the local Webb House, which has been my home since 2006…16.5 years. Throughout these years, Kim E. Foutch has been my friend, rehabilitation strength, and life coach. We’ve been together for many years.
This comment is imperative. I had physically and mentally diminished into black existence. There were NO sounds. Total quietness and soundless When I was diagnosed as being “brain dead,” my conscience mind and subconscious mind were in a totally black background. My overall conceptions also came from darkness. All internal and external sounds were totally muted. Memory storage was gone and blackened. Persons living or deceased did not appear. It was a calm feeling, but with no beautiful journey into heaven that you read about. I stayed in the same position, untouched and non-verbal and peacefully quiet.
For further clarification, “a brain-dead person is not legally to be considered alive,” said Jeff Hayward of active beat.com. The six signs of brain death are as follows:
· “The patient can’t breathe on their own.
· Eyes don’t respond to stimulus.
· Patients don’t respond to pain.
· The heart will stop beating without a Ventilator.
· The patient is eligible for organ donation.”
Many persons have deemed me “a miracle.” The definition of “miracle” is “a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.”
In conclusion, President Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”
The cumulative answer to the above is that “God wasn’t ready for me now. I have more life to live.”
