Eight weeks ago, on September 18, I woke up in the Critical Decision Unit at Cox South Hospital in Springfield, MO.

I was paralyzed from the shoulders down.

I could move NOTHING.

As I tell the story, as I see my body that morning in my mind’s eye, and as I type this, it seems like a dream. A very, very Bad One.

But it was/is Very Real.

The day before had been a normal Sunday. We’d been up late the night before. Six bands kicking of Drury University’s 150 year Anniversary. Our first time seeing the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Late night eats at IHOP. (No place in town to get midnight pie, so I had to settle for pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.)

The 17^th started with a quick stop for Shelly at the library while I washed the car with a wand across the street. Then grocery shopping.

At 2pm or so I grabbed a snack and settled in to watch the KC Chiefs with the announcers muted and Jason Isbell playing on the stereo.

As I was about to sit down it seemed like I had stepped on something. I rubbed the carpet. Nothing. I had vacuumed the day b4.

The ball of my right foot felt funny.

Half an hour later it was the same thing with my left foot.

I took a short nap after the game and didn’t stand up again until 5 when I put my shoes on to go for a short walk and to check on my garden.

My ankles and feet felt tingly. Pins and needles.

I cut my walk short.

As usual I called my 97 year old Dad at 5:30.

After the call I headed for the shower…and admired Shelly’s strawberry rhubarb pie.

(I never got a bite of it. It was 38 days until I was back in the apartment.)

In the shower the soap in my hand felt weird against my body. (I still can’t find the word for this sensation…which continues in my lower arms and from the waist down. “Weird” sums up this nerve pain…)

I knew something wasn’t right.

I cut my shower short and told Shelly that we needed to head for the ER.

My walking was getting shaky as we headed for the elevator.

{We almost always took the stairs in our 3 story building.}

Shelly got the car as I sat on a bench out front and waited for her to drive us the 1.4 miles to the hospital.

She walked me inside Cox South and quickly got me into a wheelchair.

Surprisingly the ER was almost empty.

The computer system was down.

It took 15 minutes to get a bracelet.

{You don’t got anywhere in a hospital without a bracelet.}

The delay didn’t matter in the long run..but it was frustrating.

Not too many minutes later I was being evaluated by a Nurse Practitioner.

She checked to see how far the “pins-and-needles sensation” (aka Weird) had advanced up my legs.

I squeezed her fingers. My hands were strong.

When she asked me to push her hands, I almost knocked her off her feet.

We both laughed.

That was the last thing I found funny for awhile.

They moved me to the Critical Decision Unit.

You feel like you’re in the hospital (you’re in a gown and you have an IV), but you’re not admitted yet.

They whisked me away for a CT scan…and after that things get murky until I woke up, so I’ll rely on what Shelly tells me.

But I sorta remember the 3am MRI. It should be no surprise that I had been in that godforsaken tube for only a minute b4 I pressed the panic button…and not just because of my intense claustrophobia. I knew that something was very wrong and I was scared.

After being told that I was being admitted Shelly made a quick trip to the apartment to grab a few things. She notified my sister and let her know what was going on.

When Shelly got back 30 minutes later I was thrashing about with muscle spasms in my arms and legs. (That was the last time they’d move for several hours.)

She went looking for someone for help.

I was hollering repeatedly I’m gonna lay here and die!!

They gave me some medication to put me to sleep.

I’ve already told you what happened when I woke up…this is the start of this adventure.

Part 2 in several days: My time at Jared Neuroscience.