*****Before Reading, I ask that all my readers be respectful of this entry as I decided to share this story in hopes of bringing awareness to mental health.  This story is my story of how life unfolded for my husband and me during a very difficult time. By no means was anyone intentionally hurt or abusive. This story is to show that stroke victims and their families go through a range of emotions and mental health issues during the time of recovery, which can take weeks, or years or may never recover at all. Both my husband and I have made strides since then to improve our mental health. Thank you for your consideration.********

Like so many people, I have been through quite a lot throughout my life. There is a lot that I do not talk about, and may never talk about. Most people, however, do know that I have a husband who suffered from a stroke in 2017. By now I'm sure they are tired of me talking about it. They know the bits and pieces of the struggle he went through. When I say that it took a toll on this man's body, I mean, it took a toll on his mind, heart, soul, and his physical being. And while I am not trying to take away from this, being his wife at times was not an easy feat. To tell this story I need to say, that most of you will just simply not understand or will not get it, because he was so young when it happened. To understand the process I went through to handle the emotions that came along with this you must also understand what he went through and how his process to handle the biggest struggle of his life spilled over into his family.

In July 2017, my husband John went through the biggest life-changing medical challenge that he would ever have to face up to that point. John is a Type 1 diabetic. He was diagnosed when he was only 2 years old. His mother would share stories with me about how big he was stepping up and taking on the responsibility of managing his diabetes. This attitude of course did not last through his adulthood. When I met John I had just gone through the most mind f@#!ing experience with my ex. That experience alone destroyed me in ways I never thought would. But that is another story.

This story begins when a friend of mine invited me to his show, John was the drummer. So me and a few of my girlfriends decided to go. I remember the day that I saw him, he had the most gorgeous arms and the brightest, bluest eyes. His hair was a soft brown color and looked tussled as if he just run his fingers through it. He wore a white tank and blue jeans and wore glasses. We watched the band play their set, I didn't really think much of the rest of the members because I was there to see my friend. It wasn't until they came over to talk to us that I noticed him. I was sitting along the wall where a bunch of barstools were sitting, my friends were standing next to me talking to the band that had just taken a break and came to talk to us. John stood there and looked at me and I remember asking him, "Would you like to sit down? I can pull a chair down for you." He looked at me and said "No thanks." I thought well I guess he isn't into me. It took John a whole 6 months to ask who I was to our mutual friends and a whole other year to learn my name or at least that's what I was told years after by some of our mutual friends.

One day that friend called me up and asked if I wanted to come hang out one night. He convinced John to pick me up from my apartment. When my friend and John arrived, my friend pulled me aside to tell me that John had liked me. As we went out the front doors of the apartment complex, John was across the court talking to some of the neighbors. John was always good at making friends. He made friends wherever he went. Sometimes, later in life, this became quite annoying, especially when I spent about 20 minutes with him at a Walmart listening to him chat with a stranger about cars. When I saw him walking across the field, he was wearing a blue and red horizontal-lined polo, and he had a cigarette in his hand. He was smiling, and when he finally reached us on the other side of that court, my friend introduced us and he said "Hi". I remember that very night thinking to myself, I'm going to marry this guy. I couldn't explain it. But I knew it.

From there the rest of it is history. Two years after that he and I bought a house. Two years after that in June of 2011 we were married. He became a father figure to my son. The father my son needed. I remember days when they would play wrestle with each other on the living room floor. And my son would laugh and laugh and kept on running back for more. Two years after getting married, we gave birth to our daughter in July of 2013 and our family was complete. Life was great. I had a great job, and we were pulling together to make life work. And it did! It wasn't until 4 years later that my life got shaken up.

I remember this day so clearly because this was the day I thought would end our lives as we knew it. And in some ways, maybe it did. This was the day I thought my husband was going to die. It was the day I panicked not knowing what to do. I woke up that morning, cooked breakfast, and fed the kids. I went into the bedroom and tried to wake my husband up. He stretched and got up stumbled out of bed and went to the bathroom. He came out and said that he wanted to lay back down because he wasn't feeling well, I asked him what was wrong, and he said he just wanted to lay down for a little longer. So, I let him lay down. I know some may be thinking why didn't you ask more questions? Well the truth be told, I thought my husband was just tired. He worked a lot of hours at a job he hated and was always tired. That day he slept until 12 noon, and this began to worry me because he was always an early bird whereas I was the night owl. I went into our bedroom and tried to get him to get out of bed again. He stumbled out of the bed. The way he moved seemed off, and the way he was speaking made me think maybe his sugar was low. I sat him down and went to fix him something to eat to help bring his sugar up. When I returned, he was sitting on the couch with his arm dangling at his side he looked up and told me that his arm felt funny. He begged me not to call the ambulance. So Instead I called his mother. His mom came up and could tell immediately that he was having a stroke. She recognized within seconds what was going on. She gave him 2 baby aspirins and I called 911. When the ambulance came they tested him and confirmed he was having a stroke. They took some information from me, put him on the stretcher, and wheeled him to the ambulance. My kids were scared. My daughter at the time, had just turned 4. I remember the emt coming over to ask for my information. My mother-in-law rubs me on the back. I remember her saying to the emt, "This is her first rodeo" I remember thinking, "My first!?" As if I was in some sort of club now. I began feeling this unsettled feeling of despair, that this was the beginning of a lifelong journey of John fighting for his life. My mother-in-law had already been through this as her husband passed away in 2011, just two weeks after John and I got married. John's father had a lot of health problems as well and he himself suffered from multiple strokes. So it made sense that she would know what to do in these situations. My neighbor who is also one of our best friends, came over and took the kids, while I climbed in the ambulance to be with my husband. I cried the whole way to the hospital and remember feeling completely numb.

I thought my husband may not survive this and thought over and over that he may leave this earth and I may have to live here without him. For years, John would tell me that he wasn't going to live past 65 due to his health conditions. But on that day, I remember praying, not yet God, not yet. The guilt I felt as a spouse was unreal. I blamed myself. "If only I knew more, I should have called 911, not his mom!" I felt as his wife, I should have known. I felt like I failed him. I cried for weeks while he was in the hospital. I felt my soul crush, my heart broken, I felt like my whole life, my whole world was crumbling down.

A thousand thoughts in those moments raced through my head. I prayed he didn't die, I prayed my kids were ok, I thought about how the bills would get paid, and how was I going to take care of our children. When we arrived they rushed him out. By this point, my husband's left side of his face had dropped and his speech was severely slurred. We couldn't understand anything he was saying. They took him to his room and immediately gave him an MRI and treatment for the stroke. The first 24 hours were the worst it was the scariest because as I have come to learn, when someone is having a stroke, time is of the essence.