FORMER BATTLE GROUND resident Bruce Cross is shown here in this 1999 photo, about the time he suffered a stroke. Doing fine 15 years later, he still remembers every detail about his life-changing event.
It was Thu., March 2, 2000 – 15 years ago. I began my day like any other work day. I was up around 4:30 a.m. to read the papers, check my e-mail, take a shower, and get ready for work. It was staff meeting day at the county-owned wastewater treatment plant on Salmon Creek in Felida.
I had worked for Clark County Public Works in Vancouver for almost 29 years and had managed the Operations Division since 1993. Following the reorganization of Public Works by the then, new department director, I was assigned responsibility for all maintenance activities and duties within the Public Works Department. I loved my job and the people I worked with. Was there stress with the job? Some, but it was manageable.
After the treatment plant staff meeting had ended that day, I chatted with some of the employees and then headed to the Operations Division office, approximately 20 minutes away.
I had just left the treatment plant when the palm in my right hand seemed to go numb. I couldn’t feel any pressure on the steering wheel with my hand or the vehicle gas pedal with my right foot. I used my left foot to apply the brakes and pulled over onto the shoulder. Almost immediately following my completed stop, the feeling in my right hand and foot returned. I had a fleeting thought that maybe I was having a serious health “moment” and safely pulled back onto the road and continued toward the office. I felt great.
Another 10 minutes or so passed. Then, I had the same thing happen. Again, I pulled over onto the shoulder in front of a house; and again, the numbness vanished. Now I was having all kinds of crazy thoughts. Was I having a mini-stroke? Was I having a major stroke? Or was it something else entirely? And again, the feeling in my hand and my foot returned almost immediately.
I had no further issues and parked my county-assigned vehicle. I got out, opened the back door, and picked up the crock pot in the back seat. I took the crock pot into the kitchen through the back door and placed it on the counter. I went back out to the car, grabbed my work bag off the seat, and could not feel the bag strap in my right hand. Now I was worried – three times was beginning to feel really serious to me.
I was having all kinds of thoughts about my symptoms, and they were not good thoughts. I lost my dad to a major coronary heart attack back in 1968 when he was only 39 years old – I was 18 at the time. I had the same high blood pressure and the typical hereditary high cholesterol present in my family history. Because of my dad, I always paid attention to medical news concerning these issues.
I remembered that sometime during the weeks leading up to March 2, I had seen an article on the science page of one of the local newspapers and a health segment on CNN. Both had addressed the symptoms of a stroke. I remembered that immediate medical assistance was necessary.
As the feeling returned to my right hand, I made the decision to drive myself to the hospital. Given the time it would take to go to the office and call 9-1-1, the location of the closest medical personnel for a response, and the time between episodes, I was sure I could safely drive to the hospital. It worked out well for me, but looking back: What a stupid decision that was on my part.
I arrived at the Southwest Medical Center without any further issues. I parked, walked into the emergency room, and was asked if I needed assistance. I said “Yes,” and was told to take a seat. When the attendant came back with a clipboard to get my information, I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t write or communicate at all. The medical staff was immediately called for an assessment, and I was wheelchaired into an exam room. I was able to undress myself and get into a hospital gown without assistance. I could understand every question, but I could not talk or write.
What was going through my mind as the medical assessment began? I thought of my father-in-law who had had a major stroke in 1997 on his 75th birthday. John was an extremely social person and beloved in the community. But he was never ever able to talk again, even with speech therapy and support from family and friends. I was thinking, “Will that be my future? Crap, I’m only 50 years old.”
The exam room and ER staff followed established protocols and asked me yes or no questions to get out my answers. I was told, “Shake your head yes or no as we ask you questions as your exam proceeds.”
It took several hours, but, starting with my driver’s license, and with what seemed like a hundred questions, they were able to find the dental office in Battle Ground where my wife Donna worked. And while all this was going on, I was still being medically examined – all the typical procedures, including, but not limited to: blood pressure check, numerous blood draws, temperature, and more.
What do I remember now, after almost 15 years? All of it. As if it was yesterday. What do I remember most? The doctor telling me they were going to treat me with heparin, and that they would give me a rectal exam for hemorrhoids to be sure the heparin wouldn’t cause any bleeding. It only took a minute – and I was so glad when it was over.
After several hours, I was moved to a regular hospital room for further tests. After several days without being able to communicate and being put through a battery of tests, my ability to talk returned. During those two days, I was constantly having my blood drawn to check my cholesterol and sugar levels and to determine blood-clotting issues. I had electrocardiograms (EKGs) and CT scans of my brain.
Once my ability to communicate returned, I was able to explain my early symptoms and give the medical staff and my doctor a detailed family medical history. The outcome was that I had experienced several T.I.A. episodes (transient ischemic attacks), followed by a significant stroke in the emergency room reception area. After my hospital discharge and follow-up appointments, including a full physical with my personal physician, I was given a prescription for Plavix, a well-known anticoagulant, and told to take a 325mg-strength aspirin daily. I couldn’t return to work for another four weeks.
I was on Plavix for just over one year; and I continue take an aspirin a day now, 15 years later. I recently completed a blood draw and have scheduled a follow-up appointment with my doctor to review my results. I was told to lose some weight and exercise more. I did lose some weight the year following my stroke, but now, 15 years later, I’m back to the same weight I had when I had the stroke in 2000. But the good news? I’m healthy and loving life.
What do I remember most about my experience? Seeing the impact this had on my family and friends early on. Once I could have visitors other than immediate family, I was able to talk with other family and friends. As soon as I could talk, and even until this day, 15 years later, I’m still asked why on earth did I drive myself to the hospital. All I can say is this, “I’m very lucky my stroke experience turned out as positive as it did.”
That first year or so following the stroke, I used that very topic to add humor to safety meetings where I was a featured speaker. I talked about my symptoms, my recognition of something serious going on, and I encouraged others to learn from my mistakes. Lose weight, exercise, and give up smoking – although I was never a smoker.
My dad passed away almost 47 years ago and didn’t get to do many of the things he wanted to do. Now I do pretty much what I want, when I want.
I can’t thank Donna, my family, and friends enough for their undeniable support the past 15 years.
