The Light behind the Shadows

It was a warm spring day, and I had been out building fences. We were expecting another shipment of cattle in a few days, so I was scrambling to get the temporary hot wire strung as we planned to rotational graze the herd. It was Friday, May 28, 2010, and it was our twenty-second wedding anniversary. It was an ordinary day filled with normal ranch activities. My husband, Eric, and I had celebrated our anniversary earlier that week with a dinner out at our favorite restaurant. On the actual anniversary night, we decided to go out as a family and take our daughter with us. Our plan was to go to Idaho Falls and try out the new barbecue place and then see a movie. Little did I know that a violent storm cloud was about to burst wide open over my life. I had absolutely no idea that on this night the valley of the shadow of death was coming my way. I had survived some close calls in life and had gone through some difficult trials, but they paled in comparison to the enormous black cloud I was about to enter. I did not know when I left the ranch that night that I would not be returning for nearly a month. The new restaurant was very busy that evening, so we sat down in the foyer to wait for our table and look through the menu. I was dreaming of a tasty plate of barbecue and looking forward to a fun evening out. Suddenly, my left foot started to tingle, and it was intense. I told Eric, “My foot feels funny, so I think I’ll walk it out.” I left the restaurant and walked up and down the sidewalk out in front. As I walked, my foot literally started to buck. I went back in the restaurant and sat down, asking Eric if he could feel my foot. My foot and ankle were now in full spasm. “Are you doing that?” he asked. I replied, “No, I have no control of my foot.” His response was, “We need to get that checked.” Normally, I would have panicked, but I truly think my brain was already going into shock. I very calmly agreed, and we got up to leave the restaurant. As we reached the door, I realized I had no feeling in my left leg. I remember thinking that it felt like there was a log attached to my hip and I was simply dragging this dead weight. I said to my daughter, Marti, “Sis, hang onto me. I can’t feel my leg.” We made it outside the restaurant, and I slumped down on a big rock beside the door. I do not remember much, but my daughter recalls that my entire leg was bucking and completely out of control. My last words were, “Hang onto my leg! I can’t control it!” I then slipped out of consciousness with my eyes wide open in a dead stare. Marti knew from previous experiences that you do not want a person in distress to lose consciousness, so she grabbed my face and looked me in the eyes and cried, “Mom, stay with me. Help is on the way!” She told me later she thought I had died because there was no life in my eyes. I was staring right through her. Eric raced out to get our pickup, and by the time he drove up to the front of the restaurant, he found me in a full-blown grand mal seizure. The seizure started in my left foot and worked its way up my leg, and when it hit my torso, I checked out. My family told me later that as people gathered around, one guy shouted out, “Someone call 911.” Another gal stooped down and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as I lay there quietly without breathing. Within minutes, the ambulance arrived, and I was transported to Eastern Idaho Regional Medical Center (EIRMC). On the way there, I regained consciousness. There were men working over me and a young girl sitting beside me. It was my daughter, Marti, but I did not know her. The paramedics were asking me random questions, but nothing made sense. I was answering their questions, but Marti said none of my answers were correct. She was quite impressed at my confidence, especially when I gave them my Social Security number. She said it was a wild and random grouping of numbers. Everything was so foggy. I had no pain, but I couldn’t think clearly. We arrived at the hospital, and as they slid the stretcher out of the ambulance, I saw Eric. He was waiting right there and reached out and grabbed my hand. I recognized someone! I asked him what was going on, and he answered, “You had a grand mal seizure.” That did not make any sense to me because I had not been sick and wasn’t having any symptoms to warn me of the coming storm. Minutes later, we were in the emergency room, and they were pulling my clothes off. I had wet my pants. You have got to be kidding me! I thought. How incredibly embarrassing. I am fifty years old, and I just wet my pants. This was so not good. The rest of that night is a dark memory for me. The doctor came in and said there is usually one of three reasons a person has a grand mal seizure: infection, epilepsy, or a mass in the brain. I was wheeled away for a CT scan, which revealed the news that no one wants to hear: “You have a brain tumor.”