PIK3R1

Monday was a busy day, so in the afternoon I was just sitting in bed reading something on my laptop. Then all of a sudden everything went blurry. A moment later, my vision started to make sense, but there were two of everything–one on top of the other. Double vision.

As soon as I was able to see my watch, I noted the time at 3:52 pm. The blurriness had started a minute earlier.

Since this could be associated with a stroke, I took a moment to remember the “FAST” phases — Face, Arms, Speech, and Time.

I started with Arms first as part of the process to get to a mirror and check my Face. I lifted my arms in front of me and held them there for a couple of seconds. Check. I lifted my left leg and held it up for a second. Check. I lifted my right leg and held it up for a second. Check. I swung my feet off the bed and didn’t feel any weakness standing up. I did feel vaguely less balanced but not enough that I didn’t feel safe moving around. Not sure if it was just due to my vision being off. I checked out my eyes in the bathroom. Face looked normal. Symmetrical. My pupils looked the same, other than the fact that there were four of them. Check.

But damn, something was wrong with me. The double vision was still there. I had no choice but to commence with the Speech check. I finally went in the next room to find my husband. “Do I look okay?” He knew immediately I wasn’t there just for a compliment. I was able to successfully explain my situation with the double vision. Check.

Having passed all the checks, I decided to call the neurologist office, but they weren’t answering the phone. By the time 10 minutes waiting had elapsed, though, I had grabbed my pre-packed hospital bag and my husband and I were ready to go to the hospital to get checked out. My vision seemed to be improving, and I had second thoughts about having to go to the emergency room. Honestly, if I wasn’t trying to plan cancer treatment, I would have tried to get out of going to the hospital still. My husband would have been put in the role of making sure I went. My vision normalized at 4:09 pm. We didn’t call 9-1-1. I didn’t have to get in an ambulance. But we did get in a car and headed to the ER.

In retrospect, I should have been thinking “BE FAST” where I would have failed two of the checks.

At the hospital, CT scans showed nothing of interest. A couple of blood tests came back abnormal, though, and I was to be admitted to the hospital for more testing and an overnight stay.

In the end, an MRA (not a typo–it stands for Magnetic Resonance Angiography and didn’t look at the brain itself but at the blood vessels in the area) report showed “Several 3 mm focus of restricted diffusion within the right cerebellar hemisphere that is suspicious for an acute infarct.” In other words, it was a stroke.

Some of the earlier provider reports said I had a “flat affect”, meaning I was very cool about things and not emotional. But thinking about the blockages in my brain was as good a time as any to cry. I need to schedule many more medical appointments. I have this huge thing that will impact my options for cancer treatment. I let out some tears during my visit, but many more have accrued.

I don’t really want to deal with anything new. But the fact is, this is not new. I had double vision last year in September. If I had gone to the ER then, maybe this would have been dealt with earlier. But instead I didn’t get that exact test. I got a normal MRI that showed a 5cm meningioma in my brain which required prompt surgery. And a couple of weeks after that I had the real stroke–the one with the facial drooping, general weakness on one side, and the additional symptom that I wasn’t aware of it at all. I insisted to my husband “I’m fine”, and I was only persuasive enough to delay a few minutes until he called 9-1-1.

Now I know what happened last year. What I don’t know is why I’m so prone to strokes. Presumably, my cancer may be triggering it, so treating the cancer may help. Or maybe my follow-ups will uncover something else going on.

If you’re the kind of person who likes to hear the silver lining: Well, it’s better that this happened now than after I start treatment.

I had originally meant this blog to be kind of humorous, but you know the old saying “Tragedy plus time equals comedy.” I’m just taking notes, and one day I’ll be able to joke about all this. That’s my goal.