No Comprehension here. Those words spoken by a neurologist to Whitney and Margaret Morse in May, 2005 caused horrible despair but pushed this couple to determined perseverance in a long battle of healing. Mr. Morse sustained in January, 2005 a sub-cranial bleed followed by two strokes. He was diagnosed with Wernicke's Aphasia, a communication disorder as the result of stroke. In this story of their journey of faith, perseverance and healing Margaret Morse wants to convey to the reader the importance of believing, caring and hope when one is faced with crisis, in this case the results of severe stroke. Dedication: This book is written for those families affected by stroke and it is written for "the one I love."

Laugh a Lot Cry a Lot

When Tragedy Strikes-A journey through stroke/s and healingBy Margaret Berger Morse

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Margaret Berger Morse
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-7300-5

Chapter One

January 19, 2005 marked the beginning of a horrible journey for my husband, Whitney Doane Morse and our family. On that cold, winter's day Whitney was working at his part time job in the local hardware store, Pages Hardware, Appliance and Service Center, Guilford, Connecticut. Working as he always did in the attic of the building organizing various products Whitney sustained a sub-cranial hemorrhage; an acute cerebrovascular accident. He had driven to work that day just after seven a.m. and within two hours had been brought home. His co-worker, one of the Pages Hardware Store co-owners, Stephen Page drove him home. Stephen told me that Whitney had come down from the attic where he was working and complained of an excruciating headache. Whitney wanted someone to drive him home. His car remained at the store until it was brought to us later that morning.

Having heard a car in the driveway, I opened the back door. Whitney/Whit stumbled into our house through the door trying to shrug out of his jacket while Stephen briefly told me about the situation. Whit literally fell into the large leather lounge chair just a few feet from the door. Stephen left and I looked to see what was happening to Whit. His face was a dull, pasty white and showed his pain as he complained of an excruciating headache so terrible that he could hardly get the words out. I knew Whit's threshold for pain to be pretty high, therefore to have him come into our home in this state was truly worrisome. I called his physician and was told by the receptionist that since Whit already had an appointment scheduled later in the day for some blood work that we should wait and come at the appointed time. I wondered at the lack of concern. For six hours Whitney sat waiting, not leaving the chair, but constantly moving about. He couldn't eat or drink. Not eating or drinking turned out to be a good thing as we found out later when we learned of his condition. Three p.m. arrived - our car was back by then. Snow was now beginning to fall. Whit could hardly make it to the car and seemed disoriented. I drove him to the doctor's office, a five minute drive, and helped him get out of the car. I had to guide him through the door. The nurse took us into a small office cubicle to wait. I helped Whit get his coat off as he struggled to keep from falling over. I helped him sit in an available chair.

Within a few minutes the doctor came in and had Whit move to the examining table. Whit did so, with difficulty. I explained to the doctor what had been happening, beginning from when Whit had come home from Page Hardware early in the day; what I saw through out the day while we waited. I was absolutely stunned when the doctor said, "This is a typical virus that is happening a lot. Several older men have come in this week. I am sure it is no more than that." I could hardly believe my ears. I had had a virus within the past several months, a motion sickness of sorts and had been on medication. I wondered if the doctor had felt that this is what Whit had though I am sure the illness I had was not catching. The doctor then commented to Whit. "Go home Mr. Morse and go to bed. Get some rest. Let this virus run its course." Indicating that we can leave Whit stood up and we left the examining room. Once out the door of the room Whit walks right into a wall in front of the doctor. The doctor turns him in the right direction and asks, "Are you all right?" Whit does not respond. The doctor without saying anything helped Whit through the outer door to the waiting room. I was stunned that we had been dismissed so quickly. All of these small incidents, we now know, should have pointed all of us to think stroke and/or bleed. But none of the incidents did. Not one us thought "stroke." Whit and I were sent home. Perhaps, I should have recognized symptoms, perhaps the doctor should have, but we didn't. It is all hindsight now.

Parking in the driveway to our home I helped Whitney out of our car, walked with him up the sidewalk already covered with a thin layer of snow and through the back door. I helped Whit take off his jacket; walked him up the stairs to our bedroom. He needed help getting undressed and into bed. He seemed totally unaware and once I got him into his bed, though awake he tossed and turned. I was unsure that Whit understood anything I was saying to him as I told him I would go down stairs and make some tea. Within a few minutes I heard Whit up and moving about. I ran up the stairs and found him in our guest bedroom. He was peeing in the drawer of one of the bureaus. I said. "Honey, what are you doing?" Whit looked at me with this strange expression as if I should know the answer to my question as he said, "The paint brushes need to be cleaned." I think in panic, this is all wrong. Something is terribly wrong. I help Whit to the bathroom to finish urinating in the toilet and then help him back to the bedroom. Before I can get him back into bed Whit slumps down into a nearby chair. Kneeling beside him with my cell phone in hand, I call 911. I was afraid Whit would become unconscious since he couldn't seem to focus, and his breathing seemed to be fading. I kept talking to him as I waited for someone to answer the phone. I am sure it was only moments but it seemed like long minutes as I waited for someone to pick up and then go through a whole series of questions. I needed an ambulance immediately and answering what seemed like too, too many questions was not only frustrating but my anxiety level, my concern for Whit was quickly rising.

The ambulance with the two Emergency Medical Technicians came within ten minutes to take Whit to Middlesex hospital, Middletown, Connecticut. The EMTs would not have been able to get Whit on a stretcher and carry him down our stairs since the stairs turn in two places. Instead, the EMTs were able to walk Whit carefully down the stairs, each holding an elbow to keep him steady, guiding him slowly and place him on the stretcher in our living room. Covering Whit with a couple of blankets they carried him on the stretcher out the front door, down snow covered steps and out our front gate to the ambulance. It was very cold, the roads were hazardous, icy and it was now snowing very hard.

While waiting for the ambulance I had called both our daughters, Torrey and Jessica. I then called our close friends, Bob and Evelyn Linskey. I asked them to go over to Whit's Mom's home, speak with her and stay with her. Torrey, Jessica and her boy friend, Rob would meet me as soon as they could at the hospital. The snow storm was picking up and they were driving from their jobs an hour and more away.

I rode in the front of the ambulance with the driver as we headed toward Middlesex Hospital in Middletown, Connecticut. On the ride to the hospital Whit had begun to fall into an unconscious state. The EMT with Whit kept saying "Mr. Morse we are almost there. Stay with us." Once we got to the hospital the emergency people were trying to keep him awake. The ER doctor, Dr. Jim Levine slapped Whitney's face repeatedly issued the same command, "Stay with us Mr. Morse." I found out later that Whit was in fact experiencing a sub-cranial bleed from the base of his neck. His brain was literally filling with blood ... and had been all day ... his brain was drowning in blood. Whit was drowning internally as his brain was filling up with his blood. He/we were in a very...