CHAPTER 1

LIFE BEFORE

IT WAS THE WEEKEND BEFORE Alex's fourth birthday, and wedecided to have his party in the local bowling alley. Most of thepeople there were family. Kids had fun "trying" to bowl and playingvideo games. My mom and dad, my sister Karen, and her two boyswere in attendance along with several aunts, uncles, and cousins. Thebirthday cake was good, the fellowship even better. My sister and Iwere looking really good. We had both recently lost weight and hada golden hue from the summer on our skin. We took pictures, andeveryone had a good time. That was on Saturday, August, 6, 2011.On Monday, August 8, Karen was to have a scheduled procedure atthe hospital to have a benign mass on her neck removed. I honestlyforgot about it that Monday until my mom called later that day. Ialways wish I had called my sister that Monday morning to hear theold Karen one more time.

As of August 10, 2011, my life would never be the same. As Isaid, my sister had gone into the hospital for routine surgery to havea mass removed from her neck, and they accidentally snipped thecarotid artery on the right-hand side. It turned out that the mass wascongenital, meaning it had been there since birth, and the carotidartery was wrapped all around it. They had to tie the artery off. Shewould have only one working carotid artery (she was supposed tohave two: one on each side of her neck). There was some seriousbleeding because of this, and she almost bled to death. I knew shewas going to be in the hospital longer than expected. My mom toldme that the doctors almost lost her on the operating table. Whenshe was in the recovery room, she was all by herself; her husbandwasn't even by her side. The nurses told her how close to death shehad come. She cried, overtaken with emotions, and she had noone to share them with. Her husband finally made it to her sidewhen she was more stable. He was able to share in her feelings ofanxiousness.

Karen's neck was swollen from the procedure. She was havingtrouble swallowing, and they didn't want to let her out of the hospitaluntil she was eating well. We figured it was due to the swelling afterthe surgery. She couldn't swallow anything properly, and the nurseswere afraid she would aspirate if the food or drink went downthe wrong way. My mom told me this, and I was baffled. I didn'tknow there was a correct way to swallow; I just did it. She ate someapplesauce, and they thought it was good-enough proof that shecould go. Here she was, near death, could barely get any food down,and the hospital released her as if nothing was wrong. When shegot home, she sat in her recliner. She got out her laptop and loggedinto Facebook. Karen typed, "Home," on her status. Her husbandwent upstairs to take a shower. Then it happened. Thankfully, mymom was there; she saw Karen slump over. Karen was feeling somenumbness and tingling, and they almost had to drag her back tothe hospital. She didn't want to go back, but they didn't give her achoice.

I had just put the kids in bed and put on my nightgown whenmy dad called around 8:30 p.m. and said, "Delanie, Karen had astroke. We are in the emergency room at Lynchburg General. Noneed to come down. Just pray." I dropped the phone in disbelief.Strokes were something that happened to the elderly, not twenty-nine-year-oldswho were in great shape. Karen had been marriedto Ben for seven years, had two young kids, ages four and two atthe time, was a great English teacher, had recently lost a significantamount of weight, and had the rest of her life ahead of her. Stroke?No, someone must have it wrong.

Since my dad told me not to come back to Lynchburg, I headedback to Lynchburg. I lived about two hours away; it was about nineo'clock at night. My husband, Curtis, told me not to worry aboutthe kids and just go. I didn't even think. I put some clothes on—Ididn't pack anything, not even a toothbrush—and hopped in thevan. I thought for sure that Karen would be fine, and I would headback to my own home later that night.

As I was going down 460 West, everything was a blur. I felt likeI was living a nightmare. I called my mom to tell her I was comingand to be on the lookout for me. She tried to settle me down and toldme Karen was comfortably waiting on a bed in the ER. I didn't calmdown. I was scared. I called my best friend, Stephanie. I knew it wastoo late to call, but I did anyway. She told me she would pray andfor me to let her know what was going on. I don't really rememberthe two-hour drive home. My mind was just racing. When had I lasttold my sister I loved her? What about her kids? I imagined Karen ina wheelchair for the rest of her life, not being able to walk. Was shegoing to have to depend on her husband for everything? How wasshe going to cope? Driving down a lonely road for two hours gave metoo much time to...