Kristi B.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
By: Kristi Black

Survivor

Different Strokes for Different Folks

The day before the war started was a weird, stressful, god awful day. I was so glad to finally go to bed. When I woke up my son, Noah, was staring at me and I realized I had tears running across my face. Weird. That never happened before? I started talking to him and everything that came out was nothing but blabber. After the kids took a bath and get dressed they were looking at me like I was an alien. They were 4 and 6 years old. We went outside waiting for the bus for Noah, I thought "I'm not talking to them. I'll just nod and smile." When the bus rolled out with Noah, I took Dylan to school. I just nodded and smiled and finally they were gone! I could finally think.

This must be a flashback from taking drugs in highschool. Must be. What else could it be! Alright, I'm going to my Mom's. Mom was working so I started dialing her workphone. I couldn't remember the phone number. After maybe 15 minutes I figured it out. When the receptionist got the phone and I started talking to her (blabbering) I hung up. Wow. This is not happening.

I decided to drive to the hospital. I ran all the lights (by mistake). I was drooling and snotting uncontrollably. Never even thinking of calling the hospital for an ambulance? I get there and I was ushered in a room for 8 hours. By this time, my mom got the kids after school. I still couldn't talk. Finally, the doctor decided I had a nervous breakdown and took me to the 6th floor (loony bin floor).

For 2 weeks they gave me tons and tons of drugs. I not remember anything except biting a nurse. Oops! The doctor told my Mom that I was still not talking and order a MRI. (duh!!) Later on that afternoon I was diagnosed with a major freakin stroke. What? No way. I'm 28.

After the drugs wore out I suddenly realized where is my kids! Oh no! I couldn't communicate to anyone. After many hours the nurses figured out what my problem was. Withen a half hour my kids and their Dad was visiting me. I hugged and hugged and cried and cried. I forget about them. So terrible.

2 weeks later I'm living with my Mother. Gawd, why me?! For 6 months I had a home nurse twice a day and a home speech patholigist for therapy once a day. The hardest thing ever. I was back in Kindergarten. Very humbling, to say the least. 6 months was up. I was on my own. No more therapy because the insurance wouldn't cover it.

For 3 years I learned how to read and write on my own. I look backed now and say to myself that sucked bad but I did it!! The pride I feel is still intense after 20 years later. I still have asphasia (of course) but I learned to accept it years ago. Some days are worse some days are better. Now, I want to go to school and be successful but I'm scared to death. I wish I still had a guiding hand but I know I can do it. The next chapter is coming!