Life After Stroke. Jeff Kagan

me. But not as bad as you think. After all, my brain was injured. I could not think straight. I could not be scared. However, “scary” was just what Deborah had to deal with, alone.

      Her whole life had changed. She was now the chief caretaker. And who knew when my income would end? There were so many scary questions and no answers.

      I had purchased a disability insurance policy a long time ago. I paid them every year and had never needed them. Except now, when I needed it most, I learned that this disability plan was for the loss of one or two arms, or one or two legs. Nothing to do with the brain, or stroke. Imagine that!

      When you buy these plans, you have to think about what happens if you have something that is not covered. Get a better plan. Once you have a stroke or any condition, it is virtually impossible to change plans, and if you can the price is unaffordable for most.

      Back then, I didn’t really understand what the doctors were saying. I didn’t have my own questions yet. And I wouldn’t have understood the answers anyway, at that point. But I knew I had a stroke. Whatever that meant. I heard the word at least.

      I would not know until weeks and months later, but that the little trip to the hospital cost quite a bit. My insurance covered half, but I still had to pay a bill of over $100,000 between the doctors, the tests, and the hospital itself. They all sent separate bills. I had no way of understanding. So I just sent the checks.

      Too bad my stroke didn’t affect my ability to write checks! Of course, it was a very nice hospital. But for that kind of money you would think they would at least have had good cable television to watch. Maybe a movie on-demand. Oh, and real food instead of the bland hospital cafeteria food. Not that I really thought about what I was eating, or doing, at the time. But you figure for that kind of dough, they should at least give you a few perks. All in all, I am glad they were there and they did a great job for me.

      A few years ago, I went back to visit, and I was an emotional wreck. Of course, I was still in the middle of my recovery, so I take no credit for the tears. I cried a lot in those early years. In fact, I still do cry today, but not as much. I was such a weenie!

      The funny thing was, until then, I hadn’t cried in decades. It was a strange new world locked away in here. I cried and felt very strange being at the hospital again. You know that kind of feeling. You know a place. You want to be there, yet you really don’t want to be there. And all with tears flowing. I must have looked like a real case when I went back for a visit.

      Glad they didn’t lock me away for good this time. “Ah, you got away last time, but this time we gotcha!” But they were nice.

      When I checked out of the hospital, with my wife by my side, it was near lunchtime on a Wednesday, and thought we would have the rest of the week to vacation. However, when I got back to the hotel I didn’t want to leave the room. I felt safe there. I wanted to sit on the couch. But, we talked about it and decided to pack up and go home.

       Bye-bye Hilton Head. Hello new life.