On Monday, June 24, while I was walking through my apartment, my legs began to shake uncontrollably, then my upper body joined in. I was standing with my hands on my walker, and backed up to reach for my easy chair. But, I instead fell backward on my well-padded behind, with my upper half slamming backward on the floor. Dazed, I tried to pull myself up to the chair, but was unable to do so. I reached into my pocket for my cellphone and dialed 911. When the 911 operator answered he asked what was my problem, and when I replied I could not understand what I was saying, for my speech was slurred and garbled. Nonetheless, the operator assured me there would be emergency responders coming .
Soon an ambulance team of a man and woman arrived. They asked me to raise my arms and legs, to speak and to smile. From my efforts to comply they advised me that I was probably having a stroke, and that I should be taken to the emergency room. I agreed and was soon in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, the ambulance siren wailing.
There were at least eight people waiting in the emergency room (ER) for me and they began what is obviously a well-rehearsed and orchestrated set of procedures. Their diagnosis was that I was in the grasp of a transient ischemic attack (TIA), more commonly called a “mini-stroke.” A table with a TV screen and camera was wheeled up to the foot of my bed, and a neurologist from St. Paul began a conversation with me and the ER team, and then recommended that I have a “clot buster” infusion, and fully explained the benefits and risks of the procedure. I consented, and soon the shot was administered.
Within minutes I was able to lift my left leg and arm and hold them elevated, a thing I was unable to do since my fall. After a few minutes they sent me to have a CAT scan, then took me to the intensive care unit (ICU) where I remained three nights and days.
I have nothing but praise and gratitude for the doctors, nurses, therapists, and technicians who helped me during my stay at Lake Region Healthcare. They were affectionate and caring and professional and represent our community’s best behavior and concerns.
But, on my last night in ICU, I tuned in to watch the Democrat Socialist debate of potential presidential candidates on TV, and the contrast between the candidates and the medical staff could not have been more dramatic. I wondered, “Is there anybody whom those candidates don’t hate?” To a person they belittled and demeaned anybody who is pro-life, anybody who is “monstrous” or “ignorant” or “selfish” enough to cling to their Christian beliefs, or to resist a total government takeover of every aspect of individual and family lives. It was obvious they have no trust in individuals and families to make decisions for themselves, but each of them could take control of those factors with their programs.
And then, after my being the beneficiary of the best medical care on planet Earth, the millionaire Socialist Sen. Sanders promised that if he is elected president (commissar?) he would see that all medical care would be provided by government, under a Medicare for All. I thank God comrade Sanders was not deciding what level of care I was allowed to receive during my emergency.
I am puzzled, dismayed, that in our country we can have the care and concern of medical professionals, and at the same time endure such arrogance and lust for power in the Democrat party in which I grew up, but abandoned after I learned to read and write and think for myself.