Monday morning. Not long after 9:00 am, I hit the "send" button on my e-mail to my dear friend Lara.
As I clicked my laptop closed the phone rang, and I knew something was wrong. I answered with a weight in my stomach and heard my dad's voice. Not surprisingly, he asked how I was and then I asked what was wrong. He replied that my mother was in an ambulance en route to the hospital in Provo.
A stroke.
I would beat them to the hospital, if I could pull myself together that is. She had a 1 1/2 hour drive, and I still had to shower, find someone to watch Ivy, and make the 20 minute drive to Provo. Flustered and teary, I struggled to concentrate on the simple tasks at hand.
Richard and I arrived at the ER just a few minutes after she did.
She couldn't say my name. She couldn't say anybody's name. She couldn't talk.
The next few hours would see her have a complicated procedure, and the next few days would see her have many tests. She received a priesthood blessing from her husband and mine.
Austin left work and came immediately to the ER and waited with us for answers.
My sisters all flew to Utah and we sat by her side in the intensive care and guessed best we could at her pantomimes. We watched her hold a spoon and wrestle with swallowing down the bit of applesauce it held. We watched our father watch her, with total faith. Although his eyes teared up often, his voice was always full of complete confidence and love.
The first night, after I had picked up Carla and Sandy at the airport, we drove back to Provo and walked into mom's room. She was asleep, but besider her bed sat Austin, his head bowed and her hand in both of his. One of the sweetest moments I have stored in my memory . . . .
My mother and my son.
The happy ending? My mother was alive. And although I grieved her loss of speech (but she is coming along so well!) it was given to me to know that her true language of expression was preserved. My mother quilts and knits and crochets and cross stitches. Her hands are her tongue in so many ways, and they are not bound at her side. They are still free.
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| While I rushed to get ready that awful morning, unbeknownst to me, Ivy worked busily at the table. As we were leaving she gave me this painting and asked me to give it to grandma. I was able to take it into the procedure room and show my mom at the last minute. The procedure had a high risk and we weren't sure if she'd be wheeled back out of it . . . to us. |
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| Sisters fretting over our mother |
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| The waiting, and no doubt the wondering |
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| My mother and my son |
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| Carla and Mom |
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| After a few days mom could sit up and visit for a short time. The kids brought a photo album and were helping her recognize family members and try to say their names. |
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| A happy moment for me. I love my children's grandmother. |
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| A chicken sandwich and green salad. |
My mom left the hospital the Friday following her stroke, and then stayed at a rehabilitation center for a month. She and my dad are home in Ephraim now and she is working diligently on getting her speech back. She has been beset with other health problems, but she is an example of valiant attitude.
