{A Happy Ending}

My dad had a stroke. It was the good kind though {if there is such a thing}. He had a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA), a stroke that reversed itself.

As soon as I heard, I rushed to meet him at the ER. At first I didn't know what to think. He didn't look so great, but he was alive and breathing. Then they started evaluating him. They were asking him questions, checking his coherency, but we could hardly understand him. His words came out mumbled and it was hard for him to speak. They told him to move his arms and legs, but he couldn't move his right side. I looked at my mom. She whispered "He's had a stroke."

I felt so hopeless. Watching him in pain {from cramping in his legs}, unable to speak clearly enough for us to understand. Unable to move half his body. I felt bad for my brother and my sister because they weren't there. I wanted to cry, but was trying to keep it together for my mom. It was so hard seeing him like that. So helpless.

Amidst phone calls to family, cat-scans, teleconferences with the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix and prayers, we arranged for Dean and my parent's home teacher to come give him a blessing. They came. A blessing was given.

The doctors confirmed that he had had a stroke. He had a blood clot in the left side of his brain; resulting in the paralysis of his right side and his inability to speak clearly. Then an amazing thing happened. After some time, he was able to move his right arm a little. Then he was speaking more clearly. Next he moved his leg. Within a few hours, he was sitting up on the side of the bed, wanting to go home.

The blood clot had kept moving through his brain and dissolved on it's own. His body went back to normal, leaving no permanent damage. A miracle in our eyes! The doctor said this "mini-stroke" was a warning. His body telling him something was wrong, and if he didn't fix it, he is going to have a real stroke; one with permanent damage.

I was thinking about the whole series of events. It was an awful, scary experience, but it could have been worse. He could have been at home alone, and not received treatment for hours. Instead the paramedics were there within minutes. He could have been at the bottom of the water tank he was working on. Instead he was on solid ground, with people around to help. He could have had to spend weeks in the hospital and months in rehab and possibly never fully recover. Instead he will be back to work as soon as next week. We could be planning a funeral, instead we are planning how we can all live healthier. We could be upset or frustrated this happened. Instead we acknowledge Heavenly Father's merciful hand in it all and give thanks as we count our blessings.

I have a picture of my dad, he's in the ER and he is laughing {Of course it was after his body had "recovered"}. We were laughing about how he couldn't remember the presidents name when the nurse asked him. Or about how we figured they were going to have to life-flight him wearing only his underwear again. Or about how he was receiving flowers from people before he had even left the ER. Or about how mom thought she was going to have a drooling husband for the rest of his life and how my aunt volunteered to make bibs. We laughed about how this was a lame way for him to get out of work. We laughed a lot. The good belly laughs. We laughed so hard we cried. I guess it is just our twisted way of coping with stress. But as crazy as it sounds, it was wonderful to see him laugh. He has a great laugh!