ketteringhealth.org 13 A stroke survivor finds a new voice and purpose Knowing that people go to the hospital because of the education that I’ve shared makes me feel like all this terrible time and struggle and heartache and depression and anxiety was worth it.” —Stroke survivor and advocate Jeri Ward Jeri Ward heard a pop, then a fizzle in the back of her head. She stopped typing as her laptop screen blurred. But the sudden dizziness didn’t worry her; she knew it was getting late. She just needed to send these documents before the next day’s court hearing. But when she heard a firework go off in the back of her head, she did worry a bit. As she tried to turn toward her husband, Dean, on the other end of the couch, she realized she couldn’t move or speak. And worry evolved into full-blown panic. She managed to toss her computer from her lap. It slid to the floor, getting Dean’s attention. The nonsensical words that escaped Jeri’s lips were so shocking, she giggled. But the fear in her eyes told her husband this was serious. Finally, she forced out the right word: “hospital.” A humanitarian at heart At 30 years old, Jeri had already crafted her life around advocacy. Her career as a social worker and crisis therapist meant she held legal guardianship of 42 children who were physically, mentally, or sexually abused. But the care she showed for others extended beyond her office door. During nights and weekends, Jeri volunteered at homeless shelters and worked with adults who had never learned how to read, teaching them English as a second language. In the midst of it all, she went to school fulltime to earn her graduate degree. A plate this full led to stress, lack of sleep, and the morethan-occasional headache. But Jeri was never one to put herself first. Even as a child growing up in Virginia, Jeri missed only one day of school for illness. So, when she had to leave work that day in 2018 because her head pain had become unbearable, her supervisor knew she must be suffering. When Jeri arrived at the Emergency Department of Kettering Health Miamisburg, she was asked to enter her Social Security number. “When I went to type it in, I realized not only did I not remember my number anymore, but I also did not remember what numbers were,” Jeri says. “It was really terrifying because I was cognizant but not intelligent.” The emergency staff immediately ordered a CT scan that confirmed their fears: Jeri was having a stroke. “I thought, ‘OK, let’s fix that. Whatever we gotta do. Is there medicine we can do?’ Just totally naïve to the situation as a whole,” Jeri recalls. Jeri needed to be transferred to Kettering Health Main Campus for emergency surgery to save her life. At first, she tried to convince the hospital staff her husband could drive her in lieu of an ambulance. After her third attempt, a nurse leveled with her: “Ma’am, you have to understand—you may die.” From powerful to powerless The complexities of the blood clots in Jeri’s brain required a three-hour thrombectomy—a procedure that typically takes an hour. Jeri was awake the whole time. “Here I am, just 30 years old, lying on a surgery table, and I can see my brain on the screen in front of me,” Jeri says. Akil Patel, MD, the neurological surgeon who performed the surgery, reassured her throughout. Unable to speak or move, Jeri the advocate, the humanitarian, the voice for others, had to be Jeri the patient. Her body gave her no choice. As Jeri cried, unable to communicate, her nurse anesthetist held her hand through the entire procedure. “It made me feel a bit more calm,” Jeri says. “I stopped crying at that point because I felt that human connection.” She didn’t know it at the time, but this moment when she felt the most powerless would determine the trajectory of the rest of her life. —Continued on page 14
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NzIxMDA=