When I Wanted to Curl-up and Die, I Learned Resilience

I laid under a heavy, down comforter with my head buried in the pillows knowing the material could not insulate me from the pain but needing to hide from it. Like a turtle, the coverings camouflaged my existence but did not provide the protective shell. Exhausted from the constant pecking at my flesh and gnawing on my emotions by the world of problems, I crawled under the blankets. My husband, Randy, sat on the edge of the bed pleading with me to sit up, talk to him, at least let him comfort me. I withdrew further physically and emotionally. Is this how a tortoise feels when she retreats with predators circling above? For a moment, my body felt secure in the thought that if nobody could see me, my pain might dissolve. It didn’t.

There wasn’t one event that produced my life climax. The plot of a story develops through numerous actions, each one adding to the narrative but ultimately, we reach the point where change is inevitable. My bed became the apex of the lowest point of my life. In the back of my mind, I knew. When I stuck my head out to face the situation, life would destroy me, or I would tackle it and win.

When my body turned numb and the tears stopped flowing, I poked my head out and saw my husband leaning against the footboard. “Are you ready to talk?”

“Nope.” When a person talks, they are sharing, exploring options, and communicating feelings. There was no need to share because he had stood beside me for the last 35 years; options were nonexistent, and in my traumatized state I felt no emotions.

I’ve heard there is a proverbial straw that breaks a camel’s back. The expectation was to visit the hospital, sit beside my daughter’s bed, offer encouragement. A piece of me had died and I struggled with how to do that.

My mind flashed through experiences in hospitals. We often visited Randy’s dad during his years in a wheelchair after losing the use of his legs. When our daughter’s depression made bad decisions for her, we visited her in rehab. Mom’s tuberculosis demanded she live in an institution for months in a different state. I drove the miles to support her with love. Then I slept on her windowsill waiting for the faint beeps of the machine to stop as the doctors said they would.

Sure, many happy events occurred during the rising actions of my life story. However, the marriages, holidays, births, and celebrations seemed to be bookended by health issues. I thought of life as a raft trip down a river. Just when we started to relax as we drifted in smooth water, we would encounter a rapid, punch a hole in the boat, smash into a rock, or become stuck on some river features. Wearing a life jacket 24/7 wore me down.

I thought I had hit bottom when the doctor announced our youngest daughter’s cancer, but she beat it. Driving to the scene of the car accident and watching the paramedics cut the clothes off our oldest daughter sparked nightmares but we lived through it.

When Dad broke his hip, the family visited through the window because the hospital was locked down due to COVID. The staff did let me hold his hand and say good-by when he left this world. The knowledge he would be reunited with Mom provided relief.

All those events were straws that weighed me down, but a bale of hay landed on my shoulders when we got the phone call that our oldest daughter had a stroke. I sat beside her bed when awake and slept in the waiting room for days before going home for a break. When my sister-in-law offered to stay with Kari and demanded I go home for a while, I did. That is how I ended up hiding under the covers experiencing my climax of life, knowing life would be different, wondering how the story would end, but not wanting to know.

It was bad. Kari spent 43 days in the hospital. When she left, her right arm was paralyzed, and she required a walker to move about the room. She was 33 years old. She could not state her daughter’s names, speak a coherent sentence, or complete any normal daily functions without assistance. But she smiled.

Yes, I began to reluctantly accept change even though it was a huge, distasteful, chalky pill to swallow. Sometimes we think death would be easier, we must remember that with love we have the resilience to persevere.

A stroke creates change like a tsunami occurring on a sunny day. It tears life up from the roots, destroys security, and devastates existence; however, a body is resilient; it can be rebuilt. We cry and mourn what is lost but sing praises and say thanks for what remains.

It was the last day of September 2018 when Kari’s stroke destroyed the life we knew. She accepted her limitations but found ways to begin anew. Her “Make it Happen Attitude” kicked into high gear. Knocked down in the first round, she woke in a hospital bed and demonstrated no evidence of surrendering. In fact, she welcomed the challenge of round two.

Kari acknowledged the new restrictions on her life; she accepted them. What choice was there? But she refused to accept defeat; she planned to win this battle just as she overcame struggles in the past. As a kindergarten teacher, she loved and welcomed each child into the classroom, with no exceptions! The pasts they carried, emotions they harbored, and anxieties defined their identities and made them unique — not different. Just as she taught the kids to do, Kari looked at every problem before her and said, “I can do this.” When her right hand could not grip a brush, she learned to use her left. Complaints are not her style.

Don’t get me wrong; she hurt — emotionally and physically — but emotions did not control her attitude or actions. Instead, her actions control her attitude. She didn’t say, “I can’t” she proclaimed, “Not yet.” She created a plan and made it happen.

Kari adopted a can do attitude — No, actually a will do attitude

I remember when she told me that she had reserved a campsite at Redfish Lake in May, and she planned to go. Knowing reservations could only be obtained in early January and the popular tourist spot filled quickly, I looked questioning at her wondering how she accomplished that feat.

It didn’t really matter that she could not drive, pull her camp trailer, or function without help from others, she planned to go camping. I simply nodded and said, “Make it happen.” Why list the challenges that she had no intention of acknowledging? Side note — she did go on Memorial Day weekend, 2019.

In a couple weeks, we celebrate the third-year anniversary of Kari’s stroke. Her therapists profess her gains have exceeded expectations. She cooks, cleans, and camps. She volunteers in a kindergarten. She drives using only one hand and one foot, and helps her daughters with homework. Her list of accomplishments is long, but yet, nothing compared to what she will do in the future. How do I know? She told me so.

That day when I finally crawled out of bed, my husband and I went for a walk with our dog. We didn’t talk. We held each other’s hand knowing life would throw out more challenges, but we would survive them together. A small piece of each of us died when Kari experienced her stroke. After time to acclimate to the changes, we survived. With the support of family and friends, everyday we turn a new page to explore the next chapter of life. Maybe, not stronger but strong enough to pick at the straws of adversity and when needed to buck a bale of hay.

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It has been three years since Kari's stroke. She continually improves but still has limited use of her right side and is afflicted with aphasia. She lives a life that is different than the plan she outlined years ago but different is not always the worst that can happen.

Follow Kari journey by reading her stories.

Asking for Help is Difficult but It is Harder to Survive Alone

Make it Happen With a Can-Do Attitude

Success in Life Requires Learning to Take One Step at a Time

When It Feels Like You May Drown, Just Keep Swimming

A Survival Strategy for Trauma: Laugh