When Your Best Friend Almost Dies

With 2015 coming to a close I decided to write this, for me. I decided to share it, to bring clarity and closure to the situation before heading into 2016. And to help heal this sort of PTSD that I have from my experience. So I appreciate you reading this, but it is not my intention to imply that everyone’s experience is like mine or even offer some insight on how to navigate this sort of thing. There is no manual. You’re on your own. This is simply my personal experience.

Something happens to you when your spouse almost dies. The whole "It happens for a reason," shit. No. It doesn't make you appreciate each other more or live every day to its fullest. Barf. Maybe I appreciate my husband and our life together fully already, but my experience was much more real.  It was suddenly realizing death didn't have an age requirement. It doesn’t care how much you love each other. It doesn’t care how much time you’ve had on earth or whether or not you’re ready for it to end. It's unfair and it’s paralyzing, to realize that the vow, “till death do you part” is becoming a possibility. 

That. That shit will drop you to your knees. 

My husband, Mike, is a big dude. He can push press me like it’s a circus trick and when we play fight, he hits way harder than he thinks. We own a CrossFit gym together. He coaches CrossFit. I teach Yoga. We both take care of our physical and mental health and are pretty passionate about it. Mike has an amazing body awareness, not of just himself but of the athletes that he coaches. He knows these limits and respects them, however, he strategically pushes himself to be better. Because of this, I believe he is able to tune into others strengths and weaknesses, by watching them compete with themselves in his classes. He takes mental notes of their form and can tailor any class around their specific needs. It’s quite amazing and is definitely a unique and unteachable trait of his. As far as our diet goes, we both try and eat as clean as our schedule permits, but I mean, pizza is still our everything. We are only human after all. So basically what I’m trying to get at, is that Mike is a healthy, active 29 year old with no underlying medical issues. So this, should NOT have happened.

On October 22, 2015, Mike passed out after a Chiropractic neck adjustment. After getting a call that Mike had passed out in their office and was unresponsive, I drove as fast as humanly possible trying to rationalize the ordeal in my head the whole way there. I arrived and immediately jumped into the back of an ambulance that had my husband strapped down on a stretcher. Looking back, I wan’t even scared at this point. He was agitated, and pretty confused but the paramedics informed me that this was due to him being dehydrated and caused him to lose consciousness. I wasn’t convinced this was the issue but what do I know. I didn’t have all of the facts yet, so I started in with my own set of questions. He knew his name, his birthdate, but when it got to our address he rattled off his childhood address from 10+ years ago. Then tried again and gave an old apartment we lived in. I leaned in, forced some eye contact, and asked him what our dogs names were. Four weeks prior, we had to put our Great Dane to sleep. It was very difficult for the both of us, so I was shocked that he then told me we had 3 dogs and gave no indication that knew Olive had passed away. At this point I knew he wasn’t dehydrated and that something was seriously wrong. I recall spouting off to the paramedic with a sarcastic, "Well boys do we still think this is dehydration?" (I was frustrated and in no way blame them for not being given appropriate information upon them arriving)

Fast forward past all of the trauma, all of the details and all of the set backs, that only we could understand by actually experiencing them. The facts were, Mike arrived at Dublin Methodist Hospital where he was given a CT scan and chest x-ray. My brother in law and I were informed only 20 minutes later that he was being life flighted to Riverside Methodist Hospital. We were told that due to a neck manipulation, he suffered a Vertebral Artery Dissection. He received 3 MRIs that night and around 1:00 am the doctors showed us the scans that indicated why he was not waking up. He suffered about 6 strokes due to the clot in the torn artery, moving to his brain. 

The white areas on the scans of Mike’s brain still haunt me. In the moments that the doctor was explaining what had happened nothing mattered. All that mattered was, how are we going to fix this. How can we ensure that he gets to come home, live the rest of his life, experience more than just 29 years of what this world has to offer. But the answer I received was, we wait.

THIS. This shook me to my very core. I could not offer a solution. I could not fix this. All you’re left with is a feeling of panic that voids your mind of any thought other than repeating memories you’ve shared together over and over. Torturing your mind with the good times in your darkest moment. Trying to hold on to a thread of hope but not being sure that there is anything to grab on too. You are so completely filled with sadness, with confusion, that there aren’t even tears. Just open mouthed sobbing that leaves you gasping for air. 

But these are the moments that you find what you’re made of. As difficult as it is to peel yourself up off of the floor and compose yourself to appear brave and strong for when he eventually does open his eyes…Is necessary. What it feels like to look at yourself in the mirror and mutter, "Holy Fuck. I think I’m going to lose my soul mate,” is indescribable. And in the same breath understand that you have no choice but to be there. Really be there. To change your mind set and pull yourself together for when he DOES wake up. He is going to make it through this, and I would be damned if I was going to be crying when he did. 

And he did pull through. He pushed fears, frustration, sadness and set backs aside and started his road to recovery with strength and perseverance that surprised doctors. Each day he pieced his memory back one detail at a time, and for 13 days I watched my husband regain his life back. I was grateful beyond words each day that we were there, because while Mike was recovering many lives in surrounding rooms weren’t that lucky. And I think about them and their families often. To not have met any of them personally, I find it overwhelming that we would relate in our experiences so closely.

Currently, it’s been 56 days since we were released from the hospital on November 3rd. And I consider us fortunate to be where we are today. He’s home. He’s functioning. He’s doing the therapies. He’s getting back to his passion, which is coaching. He’s doing amazing. And he is going to continue to do amazing, because that’s who he is. He’s one of those special people in this world. The ones that you know are just meant for greatness. He still has so much more to do in his lifetime, and I, for one cannot wait to see what life has in store for this man. I am honored to call him my partner, excited for our future and grateful that we get to have one. Together. 

If you’ve stuck around this long through the blog, you should know that I most certainly did not do this alone and owe so many people thank you. To my brother in law who I undoubtedly have gained an unshakable bond with these past few months. Thank you for being my rock when I shattered. Thank you for your knowledge of the medical system and knowing the right questions to ask. For being available even though it got exhausting. For picking up where I left off. And for always having coffee. But not for taking the good chair…I will get you for that. Thank you to my sister in law for your hugs that breathed life into me. For building me up with a single look of confidence. For always being a force of grace and positivity, and understanding why that was important. Thank you to my mother in law for helping in anyway you could. And for loving Mike so greatly his entire life. Thank you to our friend Brian that went out of his way to make sure we were all ok. For telling me to shut up and go to sleep even though I wouldn’t listen. For going out in the rain to find Mike some contact solution, and not complaining that when you finally got back he forgot he needed it. To our biznas partners Sue and Brian. Thank you for picking up where we left off without hesitation. In no way was it easy to get all of the day to day business handled without any help from us. And to ALL of the friends and family that made us food while in the hospital and the weeks after our release. To everyone that sent Mike encouraging messages, cards, and voicemails. To everyone that just sent us positive vibes. We are blown away by everyones generosity and genuine concern. Thank you. Truly.

-Katelyn Walters