Sunday, January 18, 2009

Throwing my body down the stairs

Of course I mean for that statement to very dramatic because it was.  By the third day of just laying in my bedroom I knew I needed water and I knew I was dying. Yet, I couldn't die without giving my girls a reasonable shot of barking loud enough that my neighbors came to rescue them. I know how odd that seems. I could feel myself slipping into that "peaceful place'' and I fought the urge to go there until I took care my girls... even though they Yorkshire Terriers. They were beloved friends to me -- Emma and Lola.     
First, I had to crawl from bedroom down a hallway to the stairs.  I remember getting rug burns on elbows and knees. I'm not sure how long it me get there but I'm sure it took a long time. I had to rest, continue crawling, rest, crawl, rest, and crawl some more. When I finally got to the stairs I had to figure out how to get down.  So I did what came naturally to me -- I went headfirst down the stairs to first landing. My face got scuffed up, I broke a couple of ribs, everything was sore, but I was not dead... yet. Then I went down the second landing. This time I had more obstacles to overcome -- crashing throw a doggie gate, and taking out my beading stash was just the beginning. I had had installed wood floor downstairs -- when I landed I can remember just how hard they were.   

I don't know exactly what happened next. I heard knocking, and doorbells ringing, and my friend Doug opening the door, my girls were barking, then the ambulance came...


  1. Jean Trumbo, you are truly the most amazing person I've ever known. Thank you for holding on. Thank you for coming back. And thank you for telling us your story, your unfolding story. Your world may be a little smaller than it was "before" but your personality and humor are bigger than ever (and they were HUGE before!) I love you and admire you and will look forward to the next installment. I'll come visit again when the icy snowy weather lets up...
    Your biggest fan -- Nora

  2. Jean Trumbo is my wonderful sister. This journal/book is precious if not needed inasmuch as most of the world does not know or understand what happens to those of endure the destruction of a stroke. With Jean's permission I (little brother Morgan) am going to begin my journal with hers, to try to tell the story from my perspective.

    I have a warped sense of humor and will try to keep a smile on my face as I write my postings. All of this has made me cry each time I've read a new posting but I'm OK, Jean is living and thriving here now and I couldn't be happier. I will apologize for grammer, spelling, global warming and anything else that is necessary for the reader to understand.

    All of the postings until now are so unknown. So personal, so terrifying --- it only gets worse.

    THE DAY OF THE STROKE was Sunday. While Jean was living her own hell, know one knew anything at all. Our world was untouched by this and we were all clueless.

    MONDAY - Jean was to be at a conference so no one at work didn't think twice that she wasn't there. No one even considered that something was wrong or amiss. I would bet that Jean's phone had rung a few times but who knows for sure. Besides, as this story moves on, I'll tell you more about Jean's phone and the calls received.

    TUESDAY Jean was missed at school. It took until early afternoon before Doug had been contacted by the school to check on Jean. Doug, dear friend and neighbor had a key to Jean's house and found Jean.

    Doug called 911 and got the paramedics got to Jean's aid -- knock me over with a feather but Jean's discovery took a twist. The police were called to investige, as Jean's physical condition was horrible. Not only was she NEAR DEATH but her body was so bruised and battered, they had to investigage for "fowl play". It was believed that it was possible that Jean was beated, and badly.

    It took some time but no ducks were found running amuck, the police ruled hat out but it scared the hell out of Doug and ME.

    The second call Doug made was to Jean's emergency contact -- little old me. I got the phone call at about 5pm or 3pm in Reno.

    Doug introduced himself and then told me the facts about what he knew of Jean's condition. He also told me that he was being investigated by the police (everyone assoicated with Jean was) as they had to be sure a person had not inflicted such damage to her body. Doug told me the hospital she was being taken to and from that moment forth my life changed forever.

  3. Great to hear from you again, Jean. Take your time telling this saga.

    Best wishes always from the U. of Florida --

  4. Wow! Some intense reading. Jean, you are a miracle of God. I am so glad to hear from Morgan how far you have come. Laurie and I are still praying for your health daily.

  5. This really is beyond my comprehension. You are so brave. What the hell are the rest of us worried or whining about?