The terrifying time I had a brain seizure overseas
Ray Thomas left his family farm in South Australia when he was in his 20s and moved to New Zealand. He has always loved writing short stories and watching sport. He married an amazing woman 16 years ago and they both retired three years ago. They love family life, travelling, spending time in their large garden and fostering young children.
This is a true story. This is my story
Ignoring my minor discomfort, it steadily worsened despite increased medication. Days later there was no improvement. Kay (my wife) was concerned and suggested that I seek medical help. I refused. Why? I illogically believed that the severe headache would disappear.
Then something more sinister…
I had always been left-handed. Suddenly, I started experiencing a numbness and an inability to control my fingers. Not every day, but often enough to be of some concern. Each time it lasted approximately two minutes. There was no pain, but it was certainly frightening.
I chose to not keep Kay fully informed. What could she do? Absolutely nothing, only worry. This was not part of our holiday plan. Kay and I had recently retired. To celebrate, we travelled to America to visit Kim (our daughter), Todd (her husband) and our two precious granddaughters Hannah and Vanessa.
America, the land of the free. Unfortunately, not the land of the medically free. This concerned me, should I require medical assistance. We had insurance, but would it cover every medical possibility?
In the third week of our nine week holiday, everyone was enjoying the family time. I continued to have headaches, but nothing to worry about. On the Thursday of the week, it was another hot and sunny day as was usual. After another night of little sleep, I awoke agitated and fearful, without knowing why.
Kim took my blood pressure. It was elevated, another reason for concern. Caused by the severe headache? Probably. I promised myself that I would seek medical help the next day, if it had not eased. Life carried on as normal. Later in the morning Kim once again took my blood pressure. This time it was normal. Why? We had no idea, but the smiles of relief on our faces said it all.
Before arriving in America, Kay and I had spent an amazing 19 days on a tour of Canada and Alaska. I was sitting on a chair, wedged tightly between the bed and the computer looking at the photos, reliving the happy memories. Kay and Todd were in town. Kim had intended to go with them. Something told her not to go, but to stay home to watch over me.
It was 1.30 pm, when suddenly my life changed dramatically. I was aware of passing out, being terrified, convinced that I was about to die. I have little memory of the next few hours. I relied on family members to inform me of what happened.
At the time that I passed out, Kim came inside, rendered assistance and sought urgent medical assistance. My body had become totally rigid, which resulted in my lower body being more tightly wedged in the chair. My eyes had rolled upwards.
I had badly bitten my tongue, blood and saliva oozed from the corner of my mouth. I was also frothing at the mouth. My right hand had gripped my left wrist. My left fingers had become totally rigid and I was screaming out in pain. I was lashing out wildly with my upper body. In my highly distressed, I was yelling out in fear because of what was happening.
Kim estimated that it took approximately two minutes before I began to improve. Kay and Todd arrived back home shortly after, blissfully unaware of what had happened, or what they were about to witness. By then I was yelling out, “I’m not going to make it, I’m not going to make it”. Kay tried to comfort me, but it made no difference.
The ambulance arrived…
It took two officers plus Todd to extricate me from the chair and to hold me on the bed, as they sought to administer drugs.
Kay had never witnessed anyone with such incredible strength. Kim had nightmares for many nights because of what she had witnessed. Terrifying for all concerned, but especially Kay and Kim – the two most important women in my life.
During the ambulance trip to the hospital, I was aware of an ambulance officer and Kim trying to console me. It made little difference. I was restrained in some way, but vaguely remember attempting to lash out screaming words like, “let me up” and “get me out of here”.
It must have been a horrendous trip for all concerned. I remember that my eyes were closed when we arrived at the hospital. I could vaguely hear a nurse talking to Kay, Kim and Todd. She spoke to them in a soft, calm and reassuring voice.
I had begun to calm down, the result of the drugs I had received. Initially, the medical staff were not sure if I would survive. It was only after they had performed a number of tests, to determine what had happened, that they became confident that my condition was not life-threatening. They performed a CAT scan, which showed some black spots inside my head.
So what had happened? In recent years I had developed a history of heart problems, so felt certain my problem was heart related. I firmly believed that after tests, an overnight stay in hospital and new medication being given that I would be released early the following day, Friday.
In my drowsy state, I heard the words seizure, brain seizure. My reaction? No way, not possible, not me. The medical experts had it all wrong!
During my time in hospital, I was in a drug-induced drowsiness, which prevented me from being able to concentrate or stay awake for any length of time. I was moved from the emergency department into a private room. A nurse who was working at the computer, asked me numerous questions. Feeling groggy, I struggled to reply.
I mentioned that I was hungry and asked for something light and sweet. The nurse left and returned shortly after, with a pottle of yogurt and another of ice cream. Suddenly, I had another attack of not being able to control the fingers of my left hand. With great difficulty, I opened the pottles with my right hand. Almost child-like I struggled to feed myself, using my left hand, spilling more than I managed to eat.
I brought the problem to the attention of the nurse. She stopped and observed my difficulties then commented, “My, you really are having problems, aren’t you?” That night I found sleeping difficult, even though I was exhausted. I was being closely monitored and had several interruptions throughout the night, the worst of which were the blood tests. They were extremely painful and resulted in bruises that lasted several days.
At 7.30 am the next morning (Friday) I had an MRI scan of my brain. I felt this was a waste of time, and money, and that it would reveal nothing. Several hours later a specialist entered my room. He nonchalantly informed me of the result of the scan. “Yes, I had experienced a seizure at home caused by a minor bleed in the brain. It had stopped and formed a clot,” he said before adding, “Nothing major to worry about, that medication would not rectify”.
I then told him what had happened the night before with the ice cream and yogurt. I added that it was similar to what had happened at home. He appeared surprised. He responded with words like, “You have just talked yourself into minor brain surgery, which would be scheduled for four hours later”.
Might be minor brain surgery to him. This was MY brain he was talking about, so to me it was anything but minor, I said to myself. Minor brain surgery. Me?
The procedure was never explained to me. Even if it had, I doubt that I had the ability to fully comprehend what was about to happen. I later learnt that everything, both before and after the procedure, was explained fully to family members.
The reality and enormity of what was about to happen suddenly occurred to me. Everything had happened so fast. At 1.45 pm, I was prepared for surgery. Was I feeling nervous or anxious about what was to happen? No. Rather a calm acceptance. Negative thoughts never entered my head.
By 2.30pm, I was looking at the clock in the operating theatre. I was aware of several medical staff, who spoke to me in calm, soft positive and reassuring voices. Then I noticed a mask being placed over my face. How my life had changed in 24 hours.
Sometime later I became aware of being surrounded by loving, familiar family voices. Because of drugs, I wasn’t able to understand what was being said. However, it was still comforting to know of their presence. Another restless night, this time in the recovery room. I hoped that the following day, Saturday, would be better.
Early the next morning, several tubes were removed. On the inside of my left wrist a needle had been inserted into a vein, supplying drugs. It was roughly removed by a nurse, which resulted in a large bruise that lasted for two weeks. Had I been able to remember her name, I would have laid a complaint about her unprofessional and unacceptable behaviour.
I was delighted to then be wheeled into another private room. When breakfast was presented, I wasn’t feeling hungry, but still ate the jelly. The remainder looked somewhat less than appetising.
Although groggy, I was experiencing tenderness in my right hip. Attempting to stagger to the bathroom and back, caused unbelievable pain.
(Two weeks later, despite pain medication, I sought the assistance of a chiropractor. After my examination, which included an X-ray he told me, “Your lower spine is out of alignment resulting in your entire right side from shoulder to especially the hip area, seizing and locking up, which is consistent with thrashing about at the time of the seizure”. It took four sessions, before I was free from pain.)
By late afternoon I felt better when family came to visit. Granddaughters Hannah, five, and Vanessa, 2, came to see me as well. It was great to see them. Someone jokingly said, “Have you felt your head?”
I said, “No”, but soon did so. My head felt like a zipper. This was reaffirmed when I was shown a photo. A small piece of my head had been closely shaved. There was a series of staples either side of a five centimetre incision. Both Hannah and Vanessa were fascinated and enjoyed looking at Granddad’s “sore head”.
I was keen to know what had happened during the hour-long procedure. I was told that after cutting and pulling back the skin, a circular piece of skull of approximately five centimetres in diameter was removed. The release of the pressure caused the clot to burst and ooze. Judging by the colour, the surgeons realised that it was an ‘old’ bleed. How old? They did not know.
The surgeons cleaned and washed the area, before replacing the piece of skull and placing a small piece of titanium over the top. They then pulled the skin back over and finally stapled around the incision. “So much for minor surgery,” I said with a smile.
(A little over two weeks later, I had the staples removed. It felt like something being cut. In reality, the staples were pulled out. Painful? No. Uncomfortable? Yes.)
That evening after the family had left, I attempted to watch television. I found concentrating really difficult, so promptly turned it off – even though they were showing golf! I was acutely aware of the painful hip, which made finding a comfortable position in bed almost impossible. Was I feeling sorry for myself? Probably. I found resting in a Lazy Boy chair to be the most comfortable.
On Sunday, Kay and Kim arrived in the early afternoon and I was then released from hospital. Several weeks later, and with Kim’ substantial help, the insurance company agreed to cover all medical costs. This was a huge financial relief because the likely total cost was estimated to be between US $70,000 and $80,000.
It lifted my spirits enormously to be back at home and to begin my recovery, surrounded by loved ones. Yes, I was tired and weak. But after three days in hospital and the associated trauma, it was expected. Initially I had little appetite, but with being at home with familiar food it soon returned.
Everything was great until I went to bed. While attempting to do up the buttons on my pyjama shirt and without warning, my fingers refused to cooperate. They acted the same as they had before my seizure. Kay noticed my difficulties, but said nothing. What was there to say? Finally I asked for help. It was obvious that we were thinking the same thing. The terrified looks on our faces said it all.
Another seizure? Please, no. Fortunately it never happened. During the following weeks, I experienced numerous flashbacks to the time of the seizure, all of which were terrifying. Thankfully, with time they ceased.
Early in the recover process, I became aware of two distinct issues…
Firstly, the physical, which was to be expected. Secondly, and what I had not expected, was the mental aspect of recovery. I became extremely withdrawn and had difficulty in accepting how close to death I had come.
Worst of all was the fear of going outside, let alone walking to the mailbox or venturing into the local town. I was totally convinced of having another seizure. I wanted it to happen inside the relative safety of the house, where I felt medical help would be quickly available. This was to last for three weeks. Stupid? Possibly, but I was living in constant fear.
Initially I had severe side effects to the medication. The inability to sleep, horrendous nightmares and constantly itchy skin, especially on my back, made life difficult. Fortunately, with a change of medication, these symptoms only lasted for about 10 days.
I had to stop, realise and accept that I had undergone brain surgery. No matter how minor, it was still brain surgery. Most of all I had to be patient! I was surrounded by loving family. What more could I want or need to aid my recovery? It was four long, painful and frightening weeks before I began to feel ‘normal’ again.
Five weeks after the seizure, I returned to the hospital for an appointment with the specialist. After examining the scar and asking several questions, he informed Kay, Todd and I that all was great and the 20 hours of flying back to New Zealand would not be a problem.
We then spoke about the seizure…
The specialist told us that the seizure was caused by a blow to the head. Unable to say when it happened, possibly years before, but not recently. Why the seizure occurred when it did, he did not know. Could it happen again? Possibly, although unlikely. He strongly suggested that if I ever had similar symptoms again to seek urgent medical help.
We all felt enormous relief, when we exited his office. Then something totally unexpected. I became reflective of the seizure, over the following few days.
I am a Christian. I believe in God, a Higher Power. Realistically there was no other choice, but to believe something far beyond human comprehension had happened. Kim was to be away from the house at the time of my seizure. Why wasn’t she? Coincidence? Possibly, but unlikely.
Why did it happen when it did? We were told that it could have happened at any time. Why at home? Why not on a flight across the Pacific Ocean? Why not in the wilderness of Alaska? Anywhere, but the safety of home.
Before retirement, I worked in a hospital.
One day a colleague was working in a large open plan office. It was lunchtime and there were no other people in the area. Another staff member walked in and saw him collapsed at his computer. Medical attention arrived within minutes. He was rushed to the Emergency Department. A massive brain bleed was discovered and he was put on life-support. With no hope of recovery, his family instructed that the machine be turned off. He was my age.
Why didn’t that happen to me? I had no idea.
Kay plus her family in America, Australia and New Zealand and the majority of our friends had been Christians for most of their lives. I believe, were it not for their prayers in their various churches, in the homes of people we knew and people we didn’t, we would not have survived.
I had experienced the seizure, but was largely unaware of what was going on around me. Most certainly for the first few days. Kay, Kim and Todd had seen, heard and experienced everything that had happened. They needed the support and prayers as much as I did.
It was obvious I was not meant to die at that time. Why? Was it some kind of ‘wake up’ call, to re-evaluate my life? I had just retired from work. Was the timing of the seizure significant? Was my life meant to change direction?
So many questions, to which I had no answers. I’m excited and open to what God, a Higher Power, has planned for me.
Far from being the end, this could be the start to my story.
Do you have a story to share? Click here to share your story with Over60.