So the PFO closure was this past Tuesday morning. I’m a tad too worn out to post much. In sum, it took 1.5 hours to find out that I’m part of that really small percentage with a shunt in my lung. Unfortunately it’s too small to operate on, and the clot that caused the stroke just happened to be small enough to fit through, if that’s what happened. We don’t know that the shunt was the cause, but it’s being considered as a contributing factor.

The amusing part? Well, amusing to me, at least. I’ve been terrified of injections for as long as I can remember, and my heart rate is now low enough that hospital heart rate monitors go off frequently for me. This time my heart rate dropped low enough that I zonked and the heart rate monitor flatlined. Don’t worry though; I’m clearly not dead right now. A crash cart and defibrillator appeared at my room, but my annoying dream of the opening credits to the Teletubbies (I always found that show to be a touch terrifying) startled me awake. I was confused for a few moments, and then I was just trying not to think of the blasted Teletubbies. Blech. Teletubbies.

I’m glad to know about the hole in my lung, but I still can’t help wondering what life would be like had I been administered tPA within the first few hours of stroke onset. I likely would have gone through the same tests and procedures, but as a more able bodied person. I could maybe not be using a cane, could maybe not have had to leave my classes last fall, could maybe not have memory problems, could maybe have helped my nephew learn to walk. I hate that I wonder about that. Admitting that I do is hard and makes me feel weak. But I’ll be okay. Always am.