An Open Heart Story — One Family’s Experience With Stroke

April 25th marked the 18th anniversary of "the proposal"- the night my sweetheart proposed to me.  With ocasions such as these I am especially grateful because "they almost didn't happen."  This story first appeared in AliveUtah.com. 

By Amyanne Rigby

The seven of us approach this Valentine’s with open and grateful hearts. We were all changed and will be forever by that February night one year ago.

I knew my husband had an open heart. I just didn’t know he had a hole in it. Ours is a love story dating back to our sophomore year in geometry at Cedar High School. It was the early 90′s. We had been friends/buddies. We hung out while running track and cross country together. So, I surprised myself one day when I looked across the classroom and saw his lips — they looked so kissable. Me, the girl who threw the football around with guys, kissing one?

Our relationship progressed and I married my best friend in 1995. Together we pursued our educations, graduated, grew up, moved, changed jobs, had five children, and remained best friends. We had experienced the normal “bumps” in the road as most young couples do, but then one cold February night out story changed.

For the first time since our baby was born, I was out for the evening enjoying book group with the “girls.” Daddy was home holding down the fort — homework, tub time, jammies, stories, a little wrestling I’m sure. This Daddy time was precious. It had been a tumultuous past 13 months. We had purchased a business in Woods Cross the previous February and I had spent the entire pregnancy solo during the week. He would leave early Monday mornings and work incredibly long days and sleep on the couch at the office then return to us on Friday, if we were lucky. After the birth of our baby, we relocated the business to Cedar City, but were left with no employees. I became his assistant and learned some “details” of the company and brought our baby and 3-year-old daughter to work with us. It was difficult but “doable.”

Thursday night

When I returned home that night, he said he felt weird. We talked about it momentarily. Our infant son was already fast asleep so I went upstairs to tuck in the big boys and go through hand-me-downs with our daughter. She was a late napper and not ready for sleep yet.

Coming downstairs, she joined daddy for a snuggle on the couch, and I went to get my own jammies on and brush my teeth. Shortly afterwards, Emma came and said, “Mommy, Daddy needs you.” I kept brushing my teeth thinking, “Of course, Daddy always needs Mommy.” She came back in immediately and stated with urgency, “Mommy, Daddy needs you now.” It was 9:30 p.m.

I went to my husband and saw the fear in his eyes as he tried to speak — it was gibberish, nonsense language. Something was terribly wrong. He would go in and out of making sense and motioned for me to help him walk around the room. I helped support his 6’3” frame.

What is amazing at this point is that I knew what was happening. I normally am not an observant person. Details are simply not my forte. However, recently I had been prompted to pay attention to information about strokes — in doctor’s offices, on the internet, television commercials etc. I remembered the questions to ask him and the symptoms for which to look. This was a surreal moment — panic and calmness rolled into one. With all five of our little ones now asleep, the only thing I could think to do was to call our neighbor who was a doctor. I had not spoken with him in months, but ironically he had called that morning to ask my husband some hunting questions. His cell number was on caller ID. I pushed the buttons.

This good man had just walked in his door from a late night at the hospital. I tried to explain what was happening. He was at our door in 30 seconds. He confirmed my thoughts. “Your husband is having a stroke and we need to get him to the hospital.” He was calm and collected. He instructed me to find someone to stay with the children and then to meet him there. He became the “first” in a long line of angels who would help us through this journey.

The ER stands up and takes notice when a staff doctor walks in the back door ignoring all of the usual ER red tape, takes a patient to a bed and announces, “This man is having a stroke.” The question that everyone was thinking but no one was saying out loud echoed, “Why is a seemingly healthy 35-year-old man having a stroke?”

Early Friday Morning:

Our stay at Valley View Medical Center was less than 12 hours and is a blur. I called our parents on the way to the hospital after having a neighbor come to stay with the kids. Soon my husband’s parents were in the car and on their way to Cedar City from Highland, Utah. My mother headed to relieve the neighbor and join our children. She would bring me the baby when he awoke to eat. My dad and his brother were soon at the hospital to give Travis a blessing and me the moral support I needed.

The fear in my heart was unimaginable, but as I looked at my hubby’s bright blue eyes, I knew I had to smile and reassure him that everything was going to be fine. He had a CT Scan, and an MRI that night. When he wasn’t looking, I cried, prayed silently and was given tissue and pats on the back.

His parents arrived in time for the admitting process. They got us settled and then left to relieve my mom and get some sleep. I was left alone with my sweetheart and our 12 week old son. I sat by my husband in his bed offering what comfort I could. Before closing his eyes, he looked at me and asked in broken words, “Amy what is my name?” He fell asleep but sleep would not come to me as my mind raced in fear and my heart ached in love.

Our oldest sons came that morning before school to see Daddy — a bear hug moment. He could not speak but motioned for our oldest son to pray. Close friends and family offered their support. A short while later, we were informed by a brusque doctor that he had two black spots; bleeds on his brain. Thankfully, our neighbor and Chief of Staff intervened and the decision was made that Travis needed to be put on life flight to Intermountain Regional Care Center in Murray. The cause of the stroke needed to be found.

Friday

Everyone sprung into action as our three sons were picked up from Elementary School and bags and the suburban were packed for the road. Because I was a nursing mother, I was unable to make the flight with my sweetheart. His mother went in my stead. His Father drove me and our five little ones to Highland where aunts and cousins were waiting to care for them. It was a long quiet ride as tears fell freely from both his father’s and my eyes. I found comfort in looking out the windows towards the mountains where my hubby loved to explore and was always looking for deer. He arrived at the hospital to be greeted by his two sisters and brother.

When we finally arrived at the hospital, I was overjoyed to be with him again. When I entered the door to his room holding our baby, sentences fell from his lips. I looked up to see the doctor wiping away tears. He had not spoken a single sensible word since arriving. The sight of our son ignited his speech. At this point, the neurologist made the decision to move him to ICU in the neurological unit where he would have the “best of the best” care.

We made the move. NICU was less friendly than the regular room and less welcoming to our son, but the staff became flexible to our situation. Our baby provided a great source of comfort to us both and especially to my husband. He loves being a dad. He is devoted and he is present in the lives of our five beautiful children. In fact, he kept holding up his five fingers and counting them. He did not want to forget his five kids. That day more tests were run. I remember standing in the hallway before his second MRI shivering. He looked up and said to me, “You’re cold. I am so sorry. I should be taking care of you.” Even at his worst moment, he was thinking of me — someone else. This is so indicative of my husband’s character.

Another CT, an echocardiogram, lots of blood work, two different neurologists, nurses, noise, quiet and fear. The minutes crept by as we tried to keep conversation light and encouraging. I slept little that night. In fact, you are not allowed to sleep in the ICU — you should see the lawn furniture they provide. Gratefully, my brother-in-law offered to stay and help me with the baby and keep Travis company while I caught a few winks. Every hour a nurse came to check his vitals and his reflexes. I held my breath every time and let out a sigh of relief when he was able to touch his nose and raise his arms.

In the makeshift waiting room I curled up on a bench while clutching my baby’s car seat with one hand. A large Polynesian family gathered to wait for news about somebody’s uncle’s cousins. I prayed for quiet. None was to be found, but my eyes found sleep anyway. My few moments of sleep were interrupted by nurses’ voices on the intercom — stroke, stroke…

Saturday

The next day, just as he was about to undergo another more invasive test, we were informed by the neurologist that a hole in his heart was found through which the blood clot traveled and that it had been verified that this was indeed the cause of his stroke. Relief. Finally answers, but also more questions. The cardiologist would not be able to see us for some time.

He was stronger this day and his speech was returning. Our 20 years of communicating paid off as we played our own sort of “guesstures” game in order to help him find the words.

Phone calls and visitors arrived nonstop. My older sister traveled from Idaho to be with us. I was so relieved to hand her our baby. Travis started to joke around and tease. I found comfort in his teasing — a typical interlude between the two of us. Our love brought us great strength.

When the cardiologist arrived, I was cuddled on the bed with him while our sisters visited. The doctor seemed caught off guard by this and jokingly asked if he should come back later. He gave us lots of information and we asked lots of questions. The nuts and bolts of the scenario: The hole in his heart was present since birth. It was between the two chambers in his heart that failed to close. In fact, one in four people have this same type of hole. Treatment: 10 years ago they would have had to perform open heart surgery; five years ago Travis would have had to have another stroke before they would have repaired it, but today we were told they could fix the hole Monday by simply going up through a vein in his leg and placing an Amplatzer PFO Occluder in his heart. He could be discharged a few short hours later. AMAZING!!

Sunday

More visitors: I sneaked our 10-year-old into see Dad. A medicine the hospital could not provide. A speech therapist came. She diagnosed Travis with a form of Aphasia. His speech was less broken now — they said the brain was rerouting itself. He still could not find words and especially had a hard time with multiple syllable words. He insisted on practicing. The ICU white board became our game board as I wrote words and he said them. He was especially determined to say our second son’s name — it had three syllables.

Monday

We waited and waited. Finally, the surgery was performed and a 20 mm hub shaped somewhat like a mesh umbrella was placed in my hubby’s heart. The cardiologist told us it was the biggest hole he had seen in any patient. After nearly four hours of making sure his vitals were stable, he was discharged. We were told his heart was fine — now just go home and get over the stroke…

The Recovery:

Not nearly as easy as they made it sound. The hard part: my husband is young and a very highly functioning stroke victim; there is not a lot of information and support for young stroke victims in our area. I Google a lot — information please!

Typing a one sentence email was a crowning moment for Travis. Speaking in front of a crowd was another milestone. We mark the months off like birthdays since the stroke. This month: February — one year.

The effects from his stroke may seem minor or termed residual if you were looking them up in a textbook. But to me, the wife of this wonderful man and mother to his five children, they are ever present in our daily lives.

The seven of us approach this Valentine’s with open and grateful hearts. We were all changed and will be forever by that February night one year ago. Touched by such generosity and care from others, our hearts have been carved with understanding, greater love, and deeper appreciation for the “minutes” of life we are granted to share with those we love. We are a team of seven, led by a man who is ever courageous and forever ours.