In late May of last year, our lives changed forever. While showering after a normal day at work, my very healthy husband suffered a massive stroke. He had no history of high blood pressure or other illness. He did, however, have occasional allergy related migraines with auras. We learned that people who have auras with migraines are at a higher risk for stroke.

I heard a loud thump form the bathroom and jumped up because I feared my husband had slipped in the shower. The cats—still kittens really--behaved very oddly meowing and running toward the bathroom. I broke into a run. When I reached the door, I found that I could not open it because my husband had fallen against it. I could hear him calling for me in a weak hoarse voice so unlike his own voice. I wondered what could totally change a person’s voice like that and began to be terribly afraid.

After a few minutes of a panicked attempt to push the door open, I forced my self to admit we needed help right now and called 911. The EMS people pried the door off and rushed my husband to the nearest hospital. There I was told that he was suffering a hemorrhagic stroke to the right side of the brain. The hospital called for a helicopter to forward him to a hospital in a larger city where he could be seen by a neurologist. The helicopter was already out for a car wreck. I could see by the doctor’s face that he felt this was a death sentence. They told me to tell my husband goodbye and loaded him in a ambulance bound for a city an hour away. I did not say goodbye as I feared he would give up. I said with all the conviction I could muster, “we are going to a better doctor. Hang on, Honey. We will be there soon.”

The ambulance driver drove 85 to 90 miles per hour except for the times she had to turn. We arrived at the hospital in a remarkably short time considering the distance. I had begun to shiver uncontrollably on the way with shock and was wearing only lightweight warm weather clothing. My husband was taken for another CAT scan at the city hospital. In comparison to the one taken earlier, it showed he had continued to bleed into his brain.

I met briefly with the surgeon. He recommended immediate brain surgery to remove the blood pressing on my husband’s brain. I was again told to tell my husband goodbye. I kissed him and told him in a calm assured voice that they were going to put him to sleep and operate on his head and he would feel better when he woke up.

I was grateful that his two bosses came and staid with me awhile. They left and I waited in the surgery waiting room alone for some time. Then the surgeon and several other people came in. I could not read either success or failure in their postures and the number of people unsettled me. Then they told me that he was alive, but they didn’t know if the bleeding would begin again. It was wait and see if he made it through the night, and then the next 3 days would be the most critical time. The anesthesiologist asked my husband’s age, which I told him is 55. He had come to tell me that they seldom saw a man of 40 in such good health.

My husband showed some responsiveness a couple hours later by squeezing my hand as I sat by his bed in the ICU. I staid up the next three days, sitting by his bed and holding his hand constantly. The nurses and doctors complemented me on my calmness. Little did they know that my jaws hurt from keeping them clamped tightly shut so I wouldn’t scream. A week later when he was more alert, the nurses got my husband up for the first time while his sheets were changed. I was in front of him and he leaned forward. At first the people helping him were afraid he had lost his balance, then one said, “Oh, he wants to kiss her. The nurse and three CNAs held him as he hugged me with his right arm and kissed me. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.