Saturday, September 20, 2014

Strokes and our son

Mark and Ethan Dunham, January 21, 2012
The other day, I talked to my son about my strokes two and a half years ago. Now that he is 9 (going on 20 it seems), I asked him about his reaction when I had my strokes.

He was 6 when it happened.

I did remember falling in the family room, and he and his mom woke up startled. He said he was half asleep but he does remember yelling “call 911!”

After that, it was “kinda of a blur.” He said he was not scared though he hated the hospital.  “The smells were weird.”

Mark and Ethan Dunham, January 21, 2012
I asked him if my speech issues (I really could not talk at all) made him feel uncomfortable. “Not really,” he said. However, in realty, he did not talk to me much for a year.  He avoided me. When I would try to watch cartoons with him (a favorite pastime before the strokes), he stiffened.

One night in the hospital, my wife told me on a lonely Saturday night, “Get up, get dressed, and do NOT wear sweats. Our son needs to see you normal. Have the room very bright, and be standing up when we get into your room.”

I did all of that. I rehearsed my “speech” over and over. “Hey Buddy! How’s it going.” Over and over.  The fact that I, in my head, I could say “Ethan and Heather” was OK. However, I simply could not pronounce names and words at all. I really could not "feel" my right phantom arm. 

Mark and  Heather Dunham, January 21, 2012
That night was surreal. It was like an out of body experience. We took pictures to document that evening. 

What will happen to my family? I did not really care about what would happen to me. Just them.

When my family left, I wept.

The day a got out of the hospital was on our son’s 7th birthday. At the restaurant to celebrate his birthday and my release, I was so scared. When my son helped me to the restroom, I was even more sad. I assumed I was just a mental cripple.

From a CEO to a man who’s 7 year old son had to help me to tie my shoes.

Now, he does not remember those specific evenings. Perhaps that is his way of NOT remembering an awful time in our lives.

Now that he is 9 years old and in the Fourth Grade, sometimes he seems so melancholy. He has had to grow up too soon. 

Because of me.   

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