I woke up, could not get out of bed and could not move the left side of my body, but I did not know this at the time. My left arm and leg looked like they did not belong to me. I assumed I was being lazy. I badly needed to get out of bed so I could start the day and start studying. I had an upcoming emergency medicine exam. But I still wouldn’t or couldn’t get out of bed. So, I slid to the floor, anticipating that I would be forced to get up on a much less comfortable surface. Yet, it was still impossible to get up. I remember literally saying out loud “get the fuck up”, yet I could not. For some reason I thought it was around 6 or 6:30 am, I had my phone on me, and my roommate Eddy( another medical student) texted me something about there being food in the fridge. And I responded okay, I’ll come out to get it, presuming he was still at his radiology rotation and would be back later. I distantly remember hearing the front door to the apartment opening and assumed Eddy had gotten home, then he opened the door to my room, confused as to why I was on the floor. “I can’t get up, man; I’m lazy as fuck today for some reason; help me up so I can get some coffee”. “Oh shit, I think you’re having a stroke. I’m going to call 911”, Eddy responded. “No fucking way, and do you know how expensive that would be? Just help me up; let’s get some coffee on” The word stroke had never even begun to occur to me during this ordeal until Eddy said something. Ignoring my protests, he dialled 911 anyway. I listened to him communicate my status to the operator. “Don’t come”, I tried to yell, “I don’t need an ambulance” His face is lopsided”, said Eddy. Now that threw me off; I was not cognizant of any facial weakness in particular; holy shit… was I having a stroke? And why did I not realize the signs? To be fair, Eddy was applying to neurology but also, that shouldn’t matter with a case as clear cut as mine, was my current thought process in hindsight. Meanwhile, KNOCK KNOCK, the paramedics arrive, and Eddy leaves to open the front door before he returns, accompanying 2 guys as they all burst into my room. Some questions, a bright flash of light via a pen and about 2 minutes of me protesting, then, “Okay, looks like you’re having a stroke; we’re going to load you onto the stretcher and take you to Beaumont Royal Oak”. I am unceremoniously but not uncomfortably moved to the stretcher they brought into the room, then down a flight of stairs to the chilly night air and finally into the ambulance, which is brighter than expected. I mumble something about being cold, and I get some additional blankets thrown on top of me. I’m kind of warm, kind of cold as the ambulance begins its journey, and then the world goes dark.
“Can you hear me “Can you feel this?” White bright incandescent lights blind me as I open my eyes.” A sharp pain erupts on my left thigh as the emergency physician tests my sensation on the affected side. He begins to ask me about my current state. Ironically, I am currently on my emergency medicine rotation in my last year of medical school and recognize my surroundings as a trauma bay – likely trauma bay 3. Maybe 4? Fucking surreal, I was just here yesterday. The lights are genuinely blinding and only punctuated with 3 or 4 heads peering down at me, Presumably the doc and a few nurses. It’s like a scene from a bad horror movie.
“Hey Ekene, My name is Dr. Fahim. I’m a neurosurgeon here and the emergency team wanted me to take a look and see if there was an intervention to be exercised.”
Internally: “I know who the fuck you are, Fahim; get away from me motherfucker” Waking up with a neurosurgeon contemplating his actions on you is not an ideal situation. Externally: “Yeah. sure. Ok.”
Soon, techs push my bed around the hallways to get a head CT scan. Here is where things get very surreal again. Patients are typically moved from their gurney to the CT bed via a pushing and pulling transfer with several assistants. Normally as a medical student in the hospital, this is one of the few things you can help with and actually have a net positive addition. After doing 4 orthopaedic rotations recently, where I constantly help patients with broken bones get moved to the CT scanner. I remember staring at one of the movers thinking, “What the fuck, man, you’re in my spot”, before hearing the familiar “1-2-3 pull” and taking my hard, cold computed tomography throne.
Then the transportation ordeal reverses itself like I’m going backwards in time and I’m back in front of the Emergency doc, lights bright as ever searing into my retinas.
The doc lets me know I am not eligible for tPA ( a clot-destroying drug), which can be given in the acute phase of an ischemic stroke (blood clot in one of the brain's arteries) if administered within 3.5 hours of occurrence. I would later find out this was because since I woke up in this state, there was no way to determine the time of onset of the stroke to determine if I fell in the appropriate window.
The next few moments are a blur. Fading out, fading in, some more bright lights, but my surroundings have changed. I am now in a smaller room with one wall seemingly just glass. The Arab nurse next to me tells me I'm in the ICU and will shortly need a central line for unknown reasons. I've seen these done on other patients, but the prospect of having it done on me internally freaks me out. A resident or attending comes in and gives me the choice of placement in the neck or groin. just aware enough to understand and say a femoral line (groin). Having tubes sticking out of my neck is not something I am mentally capable of handling right now – I might rip it out. The procedure is done, and I now have a thin tube worming its way out of my right groin. I mentally review the consequences of tampering with an arterial line: bleeding out(the tube is connected directly to a blood vessel). The femoral line is plenty uncomfortable, and I freak out again about the narrowly avoided consequences of one in my neck. Things continue to be blurry, and I go back into fading in and out after the critical lucidity associated with not ripping out the line placement. Throughout the chaos, Eddy has been there and has updated my family, who are a few hours away. At some point, a resident friend of mine who had graduated last year texted me in the ICU, checking in on me ... and to update me on some stuff as his wife has recently given birth to their first child. I couldn’t tell you where my head is at right now, but there's enough to contemplate the little one’s cheruby cheeked awesomeness via a texted picture and even enough to completely stop me from thinking about how he has knowledge of me being in the ICU from Birmingham, Alabama. On probably the worst day of my life, he’s reveling about arguably one of the best days of his. The dichotomy of life.
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