For those who have asked...

I am now about three and a half months post event. That is, my stroke happened on the Ides of March this year. The second hospital where I was seen, UC Davis Medical Center, admitted me with a "basilar artery thrombosis".  My search of the Internet yielded the following two paragraphs:

"Acute basilar artery thrombosis is associated with a poor prognosis. However, the advent of high-quality, reliable, and noninvasive technology (eg, magnetic resonance imaging [MRI]) has made its diagnosis possible even in subjects with mild symptoms. This has illustrated that some patients have an acute partial occlusion or a slow progressive occlusion with limited ischemic injury and, therefore, a better prognosis.

"Although outcomes continue to be poor in patients with basilar artery thrombosis, advances in pharmacologic and mechanical thrombolysis and in endovascular therapy may reduce the mortality and disability rates associated with this disease. "

My discharge notes from UC Davis sounds a bit brighter. There it is stated the "patient's condition improving drastically."

At this point it might be good to get some background. How did this sudden change in my lifestyle come to be? First it should be said that I love to ride a bicycle. In fact I have six bicycles – an antique Peugeot, four road bikes, and one fat tire bike. I like sunny days in 60°F weather, but I've been known to ride in colder weather down to 18°F. What Katherine and I both enjoy is going to California - Santa Barbara County - in March of each year. There I get to ride in sunny weather. A little bit windy at times but still blue skies and warm temperatures. Kathy and I had been in Solvang, California, for two weeks. I had ridden my new bike every day. Kathy enjoyed th sun, did some volunteer work, and renewed some friendsips.  On 15 March of this year we headed for home in the Pacific Northwest after wonderful times spent with family and friends. We wanted to get to Redding, California, for the night so that we could go over the Siskiyou Mountains in daylight the next day. We didn't make it to Redding and were going to stop at a hotel in Corning, California. I got out of the car went into the hotel, checked us in, went back to the car, Kathy parked the car, and I got out to get the overnight bag. When I got out of the car to get the bag, I experienced a loud howling in my ears hundreds of times louder than the worst tinnitus I've ever had. The whole world began to swirl around me.  I remember grabbing the luggage rack on top of the car. Kathy told me to get back in the car. At first we thought was I was having a seizure. However, it was unlike any seizures I'd ever had.

About this time an employee of the hotel walked out into the parking lot. She later told Katherine, "Something told me I should go outside." As soon as Katherine saw her, Katherine told her to call 911. Within 10 minutes an ambulance was there. The EMT, George, had to decide between seizure and stroke. Fortunately he chose stroke. I was taken by ambulance to a hospital in Chico, California. At this point it seemed that the most often repeated phrase was "Time is of the essence." It was decided that because of my medical history the way that my diagnosis of stroke would have normally been treated was not available to them. And they couldn't do what I needed in that hospital. They started looking for a bed in one of the university hospitals. UC Davis responded first with an available bed. And because time was of the essence, I was flown by helicopter from Chico to Sacramento. All of this started around 8:30 Friday evening and by 12:30 Saturday morning I was in surgery.

Later that morning after the surgeons had done what they could, they told Katherine to be prepared to make some very difficult decisions. Katherine had already been on the phone with our oldest son. He was prepared to fly to Sacramento that morning. When he arrived he called local church officials who sent one of the Bishops from that area to help give me a blessing. From that point on I started making a recovery that the doctors had not been able to foresee.

I set a goal for myself to be home in the Northwest by the following Saturday. I met that goal. Goals are great, if you use them correctly. The problem with goal that I had made was that it was too short term. When I got home I'd reached that goal. I didn't have anything else in mind. I collapsed as soon as I got in the house. My second son Matthew had driven to Sacramento to help bring me home. He and Katherine decided to call 911. I was in the hospital again. 

This time it was Saint Anthony's in Gig Harbor. I stayed there for three days and then was transferred to St. Joseph's Hospital in Tacoma. I was admitted to the inpatient rehabilitation therapy unit and was there until 16 April. I got a three-week break and then started outpatient physical therapy and occupational therapy at Saint Anthony's. That brings us to the present.

I guess I'm not supposed to be walking, but I am. And last Thursday my therapist had me walking around clinic without a walker or came. I'll admit I'm very wobbly and sometimes appear to be someone who works for the Ministry of Silly Walks… But I'm walking.

I've made a goal for myself – a long-range goal this time – to cross the new bridge in Portland when it opens in September 2015. And to be on bike tires. We'll talk about a return to California then.