October 25, 2019, was a day that changed my life forever.

This day began like any other- it started when I woke up. It was a Friday, so other than having a little extra pep in my step, it was supposed to be a normal day. After work, my parents and some other family members were going to come downtown to visit and get dinner. We were going to celebrate my dad being discharged from the hospital- he had open heart surgery two weeks prior. We picked a nice Italian place down the street from my condo. My dad was excited to eat something other than Panera hospital food. (They are essentially the same thing)

The day progressed like normal. Work was a little busier than I had expected and as a result I had to stay about an hour later than I normally would have. My family was already at the restaurant by the time I left work. I would miss out on the appetizers, but that wasn’t a big deal. (I didn’t need the carbs anyway). As I sat in the Uber, I got this text from my cousin.

I went numb. Before this, I always thought the longest minutes were a microwave minute or a minute on the treadmill. Well, I am here to tell you that those PALE in comparison to the 5 minutes I spent in the Uber after receiving that text message. As I walked into the restaurant and up to my dad, I knew immediately something wasn’t right. He was fine physically, but right after he saw me; he asked what I had on my back. (I was wearing a backpack). He didn’t know what that was. After initially refusing to go to the hospital and screaming at my mom for suggesting it, we called 911. The paramedics arrived shortly thereafter and asked my dad what year it was; he said 2017. That was all they needed to hear to take him to the ER.

The paramedics set my dad up in the urgent care unit, and to say he was upset to be back in the hospital would be an understatement. He was PISSED. We kept trying to explain to him what was happening, but he didn’t understand. His eyes were open, but you can tell the lights were out- he had this blank expression on this face. It was like looking into the face of a baby, you can see them and they can see you but they have no idea what is going on around them. As he sat in the hospital chair, he was babbling throughout, trying to communicate with us, but he was not making much any sense at all. I sat quietly in the corner. I was shocked.

My dad, a man who can look at a picture from 1988 and tell you everything he did that day, suddenly couldn’t remember my mother’s name. My dad, someone who, almost daily, talked about the love he has for his daughter, his angel, suddenly couldn’t recognize her voice. It didn’t feel real. That night, since he wasn’t emotionally stable and because of the recent heart surgery, the doctors couldn’t risk him being agitated, so they put him under anesthesia.

He later got transferred up to a room in the ICU, and it didn’t have a cot to sleep on, I told my mom I would stay the night with him while her and my sister went to my condo to sleep.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t sleep a wink, I spent the entire night just staring at him. My mind raced at the thought of wondering what he would be like when he woke up once the drugs wore off. There was still so much to unknown about his condition. Until the doctors could run more tests, we wouldn’t yet know the severity of it.

Fortunately, when he awoke the next day, he recognized my mom and sister, and his memory was back after a couple days, in terms of impact- as weird as it is to say, this was a best case-scenario. The main issue was his speech and word comprehension, he no longer could process words and what they meant.

My dad immediately began a long and strenuous road to recovery. And I want to emphasize how LONG this recovery has been. He had to relearn things like the alphabet, how to tell time, and counting. He attends weekly speech therapy now, but he also stimulates his mind by doing crosswords, sudoku, and watches Wheel of Fortune every night to try and solve the puzzles. His speech, while not perfect, has improved tenfold over the past year, and he has been pushing himself every day to get better. He has lost 50 lbs. as a result of the lifestyle change he has undergone. A year ago, when I looked into his eyes, I saw nothing but a blank stare. Today, I see a determination to not let this define him. To say how proud I am of him would undersell it.

Despite all the progress he has made, I’d be lying to you if I said dealing with this new reality was easy. Even today, I still struggle with it, and will for a long time, This is an ongoing and long-lasting process. There are dark and difficult days that we have gone through over the past year. The support from our relatives and friends is pivotal. Having that kind of support system in my life made dealing with this easier, and for that, I am grateful.

As great as my dad has been throughout all of this, the impact my mom has had on his recovery is enormous. She has been an absolute ROCKSTAR throughout this entire thing, and I know for a fact that he would not be as far along in his recovery if it weren’t for her. She has made dealing with this a million times easier. She has been there for him- for us- every step of the way. Whenever I think about how she has dedicated herself to ensuring my dad has the best care possible I begin to tear up whenever I think about all the stuff she has dealt with over the past year. All the sacrifices she has made. I love her so much. I would honestly be lost without her, I am so lucky that I have her, and my dad is too. (I want it on the record that Christina has been just as great, but this blog is long enough, so just trust me when I say that she has done a ton of work in her own right to aid in my dad’s recovery).

My dad still has a long way to go. I really can’t believe it’s only been one year. It has, without a doubt, been the longest year of my life, and I think my mother and sister would both agree on that. However, it has brought our family closer and, it made me realize that there is nobody I’d rather be in the foxhole with. It taught us that no matter how bad things may get, as long as we have each other, we will get through it together.

Every year, 795,000 people in the United States suffer a stroke. On October 25, 2019, my dad became part of that statistic. On October 25, 2020, we celebrate the fact that he survived and everything he’s achieved in the past year.