Paralyzed Without Warning

There we were at St. Paul’s Hospital emergency entrance, and all I wanted was my final and dying wish—a last smoke. My husband propped me up against the car as the paramedics yelled at him to move not only me but the car too!  My husband John placed a cigarette between my lips and attempted to manoeuvre the lighter with his thumb over the track, which in theory should have ignited the flame and my smoke. Picture this. I’m propped up against our car, which we’ve named Maxxi, a smoke hanging out of my mouth. The whole of my left side is completely paralyzed, and my right side is partially paralyzed and is quickly fading into numbness as well. My husband is trying, albeit not too hard I might add, to light my smoke. As a person who had never smoked before, he just could not make it work. There I was, slumped over, defeated and absolutely believing I was going in and never coming back out. By now, not only the ambulance drivers but the security guards were yelling at us. All I wanted to do was yell back at them something snarky, like, “Gee, dude, do you really think I want to be slumped over my car like this? While we’re at it, how about supplying a light and that will speed the whole process up, okay?” Unfortunately, my voice was already being affected, and I was barely audible. I was going in to die and I thought how desperately sad it was that even criminals on death row get their final dying wish—but no, not me! This was how the next five months of my life began.

John walked me in like I was a rag doll, although it was more like a shuffle and he sat me down and propped me up on a chair in the waiting area of the emergency room while he parked the car.  While sitting there, I was doing my absolute best to not fall over and was probably looking like someone who was terribly inebriated, as opposed to someone who was terribly ill. My thoughts were running away with me faster than I knew my legs could. I started to reflect on my life. What did I have? What was wrong with me? Is this how my life is going to end? In a funny-strange (not funny-ha-ha) way, I felt at peace because either way, it was where I needed to be. Minutes later (although it did seem like an eternity because I was working so hard to stay sitting upright), John came back, and we shuffled over to the triage nurse and began to explain my symptoms and how I was feeling. When we were finished, she asked me if I could walk over to the waiting area, but we suggested she hold one side of me up and John would handle the other side. Well, we didn’t get very far when bam! Down I went with my legs spread out, lying on the floor resembling a baby foal being born: one leg going one way and the other one in a different direction and unable to get back up. I truly think this saved my life. That is surely one quick way to get attention at a hospital—just collapse right there. I mean, they had no choice but to address my needs or walk over me. I was pleased they opted for option one.