The word FIERCE makes me think of someone strong. You know like a “force to be reckoned with.” In short…not really me.
Oh I’m strong in the regular sense…you know, I can take care of my family, I can handle all of the “jobs” I have in my life…the normal. But most of my life I have crumbled under pressure. I’m a crier. I cry when I’m sad. I cry when I’m angry. I cry when I’m frustrated.
About 11 years ago, I was newly engaged, planning what was to be the happiest day of my life. Picking out the flowers, the right dress, mailing invitations. It was all that I had dreamed of. My mom was my right hand man. She was in the middle of it all helping me to plan what was to be the best party ever.
A few months before the wedding, my mom was scheduled to have her carotid artery cleared due to a blockage. I took the day off work and woke up at 4am in order to escort her to the hospital. I went in to see my mom before the surgery to wish her luck and meet the doctor. He explained the procedure and how “routine” it all was. He mentioned that there was a 1% chance of stroke. I was a little upset by that, but I figured there was still a 99% chance of her not having a stroke. I was faced with one of the hardest things in my life so far. So I set myself up with a book in the waiting area for the short procedure to end.
When it was over, the doctor came out to the waiting area to let me know that all went well and my mom was in recovery. I quickly started making phone calls to family members who were concerned of her well-being. About 5 minutes passed and my name was called to the front desk. The nurse informed me that my mom’s doctor wanted to speak to me.
While in the recovery room, my mom had a stroke.
The doctor said he was talking to her and in the middle of the conversation, she began to slur. Apparently an air bubble got trapped and traveled to her brain.
My mom had a stroke and I was alone.
I went from the happiest time of my life to the worst.
She lost all mobility in her right side. She couldn’t walk. She couldn’t speak.
My first thoughts were that I would never have my mom back. I thought she would die. And if she didn’t, I thought she would be a vegetable for the rest of her life.
I wanted to cancel my wedding.
The following few months were spent driving back and forth to the hospital and then back and forth to her rehab. As her only child who lived close, I had to help my family help her with most everything. I couldn’t be happy for my upcoming wedding.
I walked into the rehab with my aunt and we couldn’t find her in her room. We started to wander the halls thinking that she was in her wheelchair with a nurse. That’s when we saw her. She was walking down the hall with the help of her physical therapist. I will never be able to erase the sight of her smile from my mind. She was glowing like a child showing a new trick. I immediately started crying.
The day of my wedding came and my mom was able to walk on her own. She even danced.
Take a moment to learn about the Fierce Fund and the Traveling Blue Wig Project, and vote to help select an organization to win the Fierce Fund Grant!