The first week of November is especially busy as Clifford wraps up the CI project he is working on, including an online presentation of Carnicom Institute Disclosure Project. I am busy packing Cougar and getting house and yard ready for us to be gone for the winter. When time allows, I continue editing for a couple of authors, post a daily Higher Vibration photo and publish blogs on my website. We plan to leave either Friday or Saturday the first weekend of November, heading for southern Arizona for the winter, but the forecast for 40-60 mph hour winds may delay our departure. We still hope to beat the first snow storms.
Friday is much too windy for us to leave, and Saturday, Long Story Short, I have a stroke. It is not scary or painful really, but potentially extremely serious. Fortunately, Clifford is there when it happens, notices something is quite wrong and gets me to the hospital in Monticello within a short time. After a couple of CAT scans, I am given a medication to break down clots. The docs want to airlift me to a bigger hospital in Provo, but with the wind and snow, it is not possible, nor is ground transport available due to ice over the pass between between Monticello and Provo.
It is all a bit odd. I don’t know what month it is, can’t walk heel to toe, I am chilled and have a headache, but otherwise I feel okay. In the morning a flight is arranged in a small fixed-wing plane, and I am soon in the big hospital. During the flight, I want to look out the window, but I am strapped onto a stretcher and can’t move much. At the hospital, more tests, IV’s, many helpful caring people all doing their job as if I am important enough to matter to them. Clifford has gotten hold of my daughters, so the family knows what is going on.
I am happy that my room has a large window and what I really want to do is get up and look out the window and take photos of the snow on the mountains around Provo. However, I am not allowed to even stand up, let alone walk to the window, without a nurse with me. By the next day, I am allowed to sit in the chair nearer the window, eat meals, and walk the halls with assistance. There a steady stream of caregivers coming to my room, from neurologists to housekeepers, and everyone is kind and helpful.
The days blend together, but on Wednesday, my daughter Katie, who has flown from northern Idaho to Provo, rents a car and comes to the hospital to take care of my discharge and drive me back to Monticello.
For the next week, she takes care of meals and dishes, while Clifford continues with his activities. It is absolutely delightful to have her here. We walk around town, as I am supposed to walk every day.
One day we go on an outing to Newspaper Rock and to the Visitor’s Center at the southern entrance to Canyonlands NP. We even go for a hike at the Pothole Trail. I need to hold onto her arm for the ups and downs of the uneven terrain, but all in all, I do okay, and it is a beautiful fun outing.
The days go by quickly and I am sorry to see her leave, but she has a business and a family waiting for her back in Idaho. I receive some assistance from Home Health Care, but for he most part, I resume my usual activities and chores. Clifford and I plan our leave-taking of Monticello, albeit with a different route to accommodate the changed circumstances. Things are different, but I am ever-so-grateful to be alive, as well as grateful that I can walk and talk and do all the things that I do.