Stroke survivors get support

Jay Leno just finished his monologue, and Thomas Maley headed to the bathroom for a glass of water. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed him behind the eye. He put his hand to his head, staggered a little, then felt lightheaded and nauseous.
His wife, Debbie, moved to help him, but Tom insisted it was probably just his blood sugar. He went downstairs, reached for a bag of Chips Ahoy and gobbled down some cookies. It didn't help. "Sit down," Debbie insisted.
Tom went into the living room, threw a pillow onto the floor, then lowered his head, hoping the dizziness would pass. It reminded Debbie of the way dying elephants tip their heads to the ground. Through it all she argued with her husband to take what was happening more seriously. "Leave me alone," Tom told her. "I just want to sleep."
While they argued, their 18-year-old son, Brian, came downstairs and saw his father sprawled on the floor. "Call 911," he ordered.
"No! Just give me a minute," Tom said. Then he realized the words were slurred. He was lying on the floor, not realizing he was paralyzed. Stunningly, he had just become a statistic: Every 45 seconds, an American has a stroke.
Finding support
Now, three years later, Maley, age 53, is part of a stroke support group at Hillside Rehabilitation Hospital in Warren. Both survivors and caregivers attend.
"The caregiver plays a role, too," group facilitator and nurse manager Cindy Passek said. "I think of them as heroes. Both are survivors. It never ends."
While Tom Maley had an occipital stroke (behind the eye), others in the group have had either left or right side strokes. Passek explained, "Left brain strokes affect communication and weaken the right side of the body. Right brain strokes affect visual perception, ability to care for one's self, driving ..."
Because the location of a stroke on the right or left side of the brain creates different damage, the members of the group are varied. What they have in common is their need to be with other stroke survivors. "It's like the world isn't made for it," Passek explained. "People are in a hurry, and they don't give you a chance to speak."
Seeking patience
The comment is particularly salient for Ray Hajduk, who had his stroke at 53. "I had to learn to talk again," Hajduk said in slowly delivered, but clear words. "I do not make sounds right away." The first month after his stroke, he learned to talk again; the second month, he learned to walk.
Left with paralysis of his right arm, he was forced to retire from Delphi Packard. "You had to talk plainer than I do," Hajduk said. "I have to think what I say." The halting speech gives people the impression his mind is impaired, making him angry. The group is one place he can go where people are not in too big a hurry to wait for his words.
Adjusting to disabilities
Sue Clark, also 53, another stroke support group member, speaks mostly in single words. "Mom. Stroke." She pointed to a small, thick spiral-bound notebook she keeps with her. It read, "Mom. 45." Her mother had a stroke at 45, just as Clark did. In explaining what she does with her time, she said, "Art, paint, flowers." Armed with her notebook, she goes shopping at Pat Catan's. "Jimmy. Good guy!" she said of her husband.
One support group member, whose wife wished for him to remain anonymous, was left unable to care for himself. In a wheelchair, unable to speak, his wife was left with a retirement the two never expected. She's stoic, but it's hard.
Some of the group members had a genetic link to their stroke; smoking played a role in one member's stroke. "Diabetes is a risk factor, too. And all of the factors for heart disease are ones for stroke also," Passek said.
Though Maley's speech returned and the paralysis vanished, he was left with a grim reminder of that Tuesday evening three years ago. "It's my own little horror story. I only see half of everyone's head; I only see the left side. I had to get used to that."
The support group helps.
For information on Hillside's Stroke Support Group, call (330) 841-3891.
murphy@vindy.com