Yup, I came THIS close...

Erlinda and I were in Jamaica for the funeral of Edna Parchment, our Aunt Kitty. I'd just returned from Paris (see "more photo diaries" on the left), where I'd taught a Microsoft course to European software vendors and trainers on April 19-22.

On Monday, April 26, we got word that Aunt Kitty had passed away. By Tuesday, we were in Jamaica, and the rest of that week was hectic as we helped prepare the funeral plans and design the funeral bulletin.

On Sabbath May 1, we attended worship services at Northern Caribbean University, had a pot luck dinner at Erlinda's Mom's house, and prepared ourselves mentally for the funerals the next day, Sunday May 2.

Yes, I did say say funerals, plural, since there would be one at 10:00 a.m. at NCU for the University family where Aunt Kitty had taught for over 50 years, and another at 3:00 p.m. at Southfield, St, Elizabeth, her childhood home church, where she was also to be interred.

But I've told all of that story already (see "more photo diaries" on the left), and you can visit it at your convenience.

What I've not had a chance to tell is how challenging the next two weeks were, as I first completed preparation of Session Materials for the Southeastern Conference of Seventh-day Adventists in Florida, and then worked on a chapter for a Microsoft book on Visual Studio .NET "Whidbey," which is about to be released in Beta format. I'll just say that those two weeks were nothing but intense pressure, and I think my blood pressure, which is normally stable, was rising quietly but precipitously.

Fortunately, the area around Mom's home is absolutely gorgeous, and I had the opportunity to walk each day, out among the flora and fauna that surround her peaceful setting. I believe those walks contributed to saving my life.

Then It Happened

It happened very suddenly, around 10:00 p.m. on Wednesday, May 12. It was the sharpest pain I've ever felt, throughout my head, throbbing, disorienting, piercing, numbing, and non-stop. I promise you, you do not want to go through one of these. Both Erlinda and I thought at first that it was a stroke, then noticed that all my faculties were essentially intact, that I could move all parts of my body, and that I could speak reasonably clearly, though in one-word utterances, due to the pain.

We considered whether to try for emergency help, but decided against it, since the intense pressure in my head was gradually decreasing.

So we sat out the rest of the night, punctuated by nausea and vomiting, until morning, when we finally told Mom and Aunt Lydia (who had been visiting for some time) about the problem. Needless to say, they were aghast, and recommended seeing a doctor immediately. We were fortunate that Dr. Ian Lund (son-in-law of Erlinda's cousin Sheri Townsend) was visiting Aunt Rosa not far away. He ran me through a bunch of tests and concluded that neurologically I was basically fine, but that I needed a CT scan to confirm what the brain problem actually was.

We agreed with him, but also noted that the intense headache (intra-cranial pressure) was still decreasing, as long as I stayed horizontal, which I did for the rest of that day, Thursday. On Friday, we consulted two other physicians, Dr. Ken Richards and Dr. Gilbert Allen, who concurred with Dr. Lund, and urged us to have a brain scan done in Kingston, 60 miles away.

So we finally got ourselves into gear, called an ambulance service, piled in and headed for Kingston's Jubilee Hospital for an MRI.

Wile we were on the way, however, Dr. Ken Richards was making a few calls of his own, to the University Hospital of the West Indies searching for the best available care for the situation.

He discovered that all the necessary services were available there: CT scans, MRIs, surgery, and follow-up care, and so he arranged to re-route us to UWI.

Along the way, EMT Kenroy Cole and his cohorts gave me attentive care. We arrived at UWI at around 4:50 p.m. and I was ushered into an examination room.

Dr. Franz Pencle looked me over, and suggested that I probably needed admission, which Erlinda and I weren't really wild about. A short while later, the neurosurgeon, Dr. Carl Bruce, appeared, and declared that the first stop needed to be at the CT Scan area, some distance away.

The scan revealed that there definitely had been a brain hemorrhage, and that it had been extensive.

Over the next day, Sabbath the 15th, I endured a further battery of tests designed to reveal the true extent of the injury and the kind of surgery needed.

We were also faced with more decisions, like where the surgery would be done, how soon to do it, and who would be the surgeon.

Finally, near the end of the day, Dr. Bruce presented us with the facts.

He explained that I'd experienced a ruptured aneurysm, which apparently had been in my head for a long time, perhaps even congenitally.

He said that I could choose one of two solutions: (1) a procedure in which the aneurysm would be packed with coils inserted through my blood vessels, or (2) a true surgery in which they would actually open up my skull and clip the aneurysm.

Option 1 would have to be done in the USA, he pointed out, and would not necessarily be permanent.

Option 2 would be permanent, and he could do it himself right there at the University Hospital.

So we prayed for guidance. True, Dr. Bruce had so generated confidence in us in the 24 hours that we'd known him, that we felt inclined to put ourselves in his hands, but we weren't sure.