Saturday, August 02, 2008

Medicine hits home

My parents came in on Friday and we had an amazing time out at dinner. It was one of the best time's we have all had together here in Cleveland. This morning they were planning on leaving to drive to Canada. I made them breakfast and we were just milling about the house. I was running about the house and in passing quickly asked my dad how he was doing and didn't really pay attention to the answer. A few minutes later, I realized that my dad was unable to speak or move his L arm. In medicine, we learn to immediately assess patient mental status by asking three questions: who are you, where are you, and what year is it. Dad could not communicate with me and I could see the terror in his eyes as he struggled to realize that he could not talk. I instantly knew what was going on and all that I had learned about rushed past me- what tests he needed, chances of survival, etc. I brushed it all aside and pretended that nothing big was going on and that we were just going to the emergency room "just in case." On the drive over, I was freaking out in my head... I knew that my dad was having a stroke and that he needed to get to the hospital very soon in order to reverse the damage to his brain. As his daughter, I joked about Cleveland traffic and pretended that it was just another Saturday. In my head, I kept thinking of how terrifying it was to see aphasia (the inability to speak to others) in my father's eyes. In my head, I kept thinking how serious this may be.

Luckily, we live very close to the emergency room (<1.0 mile) and I know key words that will get you immediate attention at even the busiest hospitals (i.e. I'm a medical student here...he stopped being able to talk 5 minutes ago...). In the ER, I saw a team of physicians mill about him, doing the exams I was thinking of doing. I understood what was going on but I was torn as to what I should tell my mom. Should I tell her everything that I'm worried about with the risk of scaring her? Should I hide the worst scenario because it's not really likely and risk hiding a possible truth from her?

It's scary for me to realize that my parents are not as young as I always thought they were. It's even more frightening for me to think of my parents as patients.

Luckily, my father began improving within 10 minutes of his episode. He was able to move his hand again and slowly regained the ability to speak. This is a very good sign in medicine... if his symptoms resolve in under half an hour, it means that he didn't really have what is known as a "stroke" but a milder version of a similar situation. He is still at the hospital in the neurology observation until so that they can make sure that he continues to do well. He is doing very well- he has no residual physical effects from what happened. He is, however, having a lot of trouble dealing with what happened. He still is struggling to come to terms with why it happened to him and what it means about his age and his health. (FYI if you read this and are in contact with my dad please pretend you know nothing about this. He will tell people when he has come to terms with what happened and is ready to tell others about it.)

Despite all the medicine that helped me realize he needed to be seen in the ER and despite all the great care he received there, I can't help shake the feeling of a "hidden blessing." Dad wasn't supposed to come with my Mom to Cleveland. What if this had happened to him while he was alone at home with no one to tell him he needed to go to the hospital? What if this had happened on the drive from Chicago? What if he hadn't been able to come upstairs to try to talk to us for a second time? What if we didn't live as close to the hospital? I really hope that something like this never ever happens again. That said, I feel really lucky that I was here able to help my dad get the care he needed and I was there to make sure both of them understood what was happening with the physicians. I can't help thinking that despite my scientific training coaching me otherwise, everything really does happen for a reason. I just hope that that we can all use the reason behind this experience to help us all.