by Cameron Smith

Last Sunday, Emily and I sat in the atrium at Kingston General Hospital and planned my funeral.

I’d had what appeared to be a minor stroke on Friday, and a CAT scan indicated I was in pretty bad shape. My choices were extremely limited; my prospects grim.

Things changed on Tuesday, but I want to write about what happened, because what I experienced was the exact opposite of all the comments I read in the press critical about health care in Canada.

Probably everyone who has had a stroke tells much the same story: wooziness, inability to focus, loss of balance, cold sweat, upset stomach. The ambulance got me to emergency at about nine in the morning and I was there until about one the next morning, when they decided to admit me overnight.

Sixteen hours in emergency, but you won’t hear me complain. I went through through endless tests and questions; nurses monitored my progress; there were X-rays, blood samples, but in the end, there was uncertainty whether I’d had a stroke, or suffered from an inner ear problem.

The supervising doctor decided it was probably inner ear, and I could go home. When the nurse came to take the intravenous tube out of my arm, Emily asked more questions, and the nurse summoned a third  doctor, who had just come on shift.

His name is Graham Cleghorn, and I shall be forever grateful to him, because he didn’t give up. He made me go through all the tests again, and kept saying, “I don’t quite understand this.” Then, more tests. I passed them all. More puzzlement. Finally he asked me to walk heel-to-toe, the way police require when they think you’re drunk. I couldn’t do it. I staggered all over the place.

“That’s it,’ he said. “I’m ordering a CAT scan.”

The CAT scan highlighted two congenital defects that affect my cerebellum, the part of the brain that sits at the base of the skull at the top of the spinal cord. It controls balance and funnels messages down the spinal column. It’s supposed to be fed blood by two arteries toward the back of the head, one on each side. The CAT scan showed I only have one that functions. The other is so small it can’t deliver blood. That’s the first congenital defect.

The second results in no blood reaching the cerebellum from other parts of the brain. In most people there are connections. I don’t have them.

The result is I have only one artery to the cerebellum, and there’s no back up. And the CAT scan showed this one artery had a plaque buildup at its base that blocked 70 per cent of the blood flow. It indicated a major stroke waiting to happen. A bypass was impossible; a stent highly problematic.

Seeing a neurologist, Stuart Reid, was next. More tests. He too was puzzled, and wouldn’t give up. He ordered a MRI.

On Tuesday we got the results. There had been no stroke. Back Dr. Reid went to the CAT scan. He called in one of the province’s top neuro-radiologists. They decided there was no blockage in the artery. Instead,  there was a thin coating of calcium which cast a shadow in the CAT scan that looked identical to a plaque buildup.

Next came a neuro-ophthalmologist to determine if there was an inner ear problem. His conclusion: No. There had been a temporary loss of blood supply, probably caused by a piece of calcium being dislodged. The solution: The artery is clear; I’m to take a baby aspirin once a day to thin the blood and reduce the risk in case another bit of calcium dislodges.

My conclusion: The support I received was superb. Nurses and doctors took unlimited time to explain and answer questions. They were generous and they were caring. And now I know I have to pay attention to a problem I didn’t know I had.

I feel blessed to live in this country.