It was early in the morning of March 23rd, 2018. My son Nathan was asleep in his room. My husband, Eric, and I were getting ready for our trip to Montréal (we had planned a long trip to visit neighborhoods, for the purpose of moving there). I called my husband, who was downstairs in the kitchen. The dreaded fantasy that would visit me every now and then came true – I heard myself speaking in a slurred voice.
I climbed down the stairs so as not to wake Nathan, and I felt dizzy. I’d seen double for some time, but I hadn’t paid much attention to it, for I’d considered it negligible. This time my voice was being slurred, I was feeling dizzy, and I was seeing double.
In the kitchen, I told Eric what was going on with me. We agreed that we should drop Nathan on our way to the ER. In the meantime, we would make every effort to avoid causing him concern. Yet despite my attempts, Nathan caught a glimpse of a change. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked insistently, but I managed to control my slurring in my negative answers.
Once we’d dropped him at school, Eric drove me to the hospital. We described my symptoms at the reception desk, and the receptionist immediately put me through. A male nurse stuck an IV in my arm, and they did a brain CT scan. The results displayed tiny spots compatible with metastases, so the neurologist ordered an MRI. She looked at it, and then told us the metastases were in fact slight hemangiomas. Hemangiomas are benign blood tumors that are lethal when they bleed. That’s why the neurologist suggested a vascular neurosurgeon. My questions to my family and friends produced an answer: the best vascular neurosurgeon in the country, and the hospital where he worked. We decided to go in through the ER so that the hospital would admit us.
I climbed down the stairs so as not to wake Nathan, and I felt dizzy. I’d seen double for some time, but I hadn’t paid much attention to it, for I’d considered it negligible. This time my voice was being slurred, I was feeling dizzy, and I was seeing double.
In the kitchen, I told Eric what was going on with me. We agreed that we should drop Nathan on our way to the ER. In the meantime, we would make every effort to avoid causing him concern. Yet despite my attempts, Nathan caught a glimpse of a change. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked insistently, but I managed to control my slurring in my negative answers.
Once we’d dropped him at school, Eric drove me to the hospital. We described my symptoms at the reception desk, and the receptionist immediately put me through. A male nurse stuck an IV in my arm, and they did a brain CT scan. The results displayed tiny spots compatible with metastases, so the neurologist ordered an MRI. She looked at it, and then told us the metastases were in fact slight hemangiomas. Hemangiomas are benign blood tumors that are lethal when they bleed. That’s why the neurologist suggested a vascular neurosurgeon. My questions to my family and friends produced an answer: the best vascular neurosurgeon in the country, and the hospital where he worked. We decided to go in through the ER so that the hospital would admit us.
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