I have been writing about about dementia and its effects on family. Thought you might be interested and might want to add your input. DG
In June 1977 I returned from the grocery store to find Missy and David in a state of near hysteria. B. F. Goodrich Tire factory had called to say O. J. had had a stroke and collapsed at his work station unable to move or talk. He was conscious, but helpless.
The 25 minute drive to the hospital took 15 minutes that Monday. O. J. was lying still, but his eyes were filled with panic. The most fearless person I knew was looking all around unable to move anything except his eyes. The doctor explained that he had indeed had a stroke and was paralyzed and that there was a possibility of other strokes to follow. We were told that the prognosis was not good and that the next hours would be “wait and see”. If there was no improvement in 24 hours the damage probably be permanent.
Family members came and went as hours drug by and our talking to him seemed to relieve the panic somewhat. The next morning there was movement under the sheet; his thumb had moved. Gradually in the next hour he moved his hand, a foot, a leg, and turned his head slightly. The small effort exhausted him and he dozed off while we waited for Dr. Baker’s report. Tests indicated an embolism at the back of his neck, but continuing improvement in movement in varying parts of his body encouraged us that he was going to live
. By the end of the week we knew he had lost the ability to talk although he obviously could understand what we were saying. In two weeks we took him home and began the slow process of relearning to walk and talk. The therapist warned us not to do things for him that he could do for himself. He’d point to something and we’d ask, “Do you want a glass of water?” He’d nod, and reach and try to say, “water”, but it was not very clear. He learned to talk again fairly quickly, because he already possessed the the concepts.
He was not very patient. If we did not understand he would grow very angry and soon had a range of profanity that we had not heard before. This was part of his vocabulary for the rest of his life. His physical strength returned, but there was difficulty with balance and a limp that diminished, but never disappeared. He worked very hard at his physical therapy as well as his speech and by September was able to stay home while the rest of us returned to school.
He could drive and prepare a light lunch for himself. He was doggedly independent, and became angry if someone supplied a word he could not remember. By the first of December the doctor oked his return to work. The family noticed a change in his personality. Although he was easily frustrated in speech, he was more gentle and empathetic with others. There was a compassion in his eyes that I had not seen before his disability. He watched the family and seemed to be more aware of little details than he had shown when he had worn his master sargeant personna from 12 years in the military.
. Our son was seventeen and grieving over the changes in the dad he had followed from the time he began to walk. The youngest at 14 tried to do more things for her dad than O. J. wished. Therapists continued to remind us not to do so much that he would begin to rely on outside help. A year after the stroke no one who had not known O. J. before would be aware of the disabilities he had overcome. His language was more salty, but not incompatible with his personality. He might occasionally cry at appropriate times, something I had never seen before. The slight limp made him appear bowlegged, but that was minor. He withdrew from disciplining our teens, partly because his speech was not completely under control and partly that he had softened his stance in handling problems. I became the “bad cop”. The family became accustomed to the “softer” O. J. He still loved to get on his tractor as soon as he was home from work and worked on repair jobs on cars, water pumps, or any other motor. He could hear a car go down the highway 300 yards from the house and tell which spark plug was bad. We raised corn and peas and had a big garden enough to share with our married kids, Mama Annice and other family members. The small amount we sold was because there was not enough space to freeze it ourselves. Life had returned to normal except for more diligent health care. He had given up cigarettes five years before, and had adjusted to a lighter diet with less fried food and meat products. He looked vigorous and strong and had few residual effects. He retired early at 62 to farm and lead a slower lifestyle while my professional life was becoming more hectic. He worked the farm, hung out at the local country store and did minor repair jobs for friend in the community. This was probably one of the happiest periods of his life.
