Disclaimer: I do not have personal experience with survivors of this affliction. I did research and have attempted to be as accurate as possible within the story frame. I apologize if anyone finds an inaccuracy offensive.

Point of View: Robert Goren only

Waking, I see sunlight in the window. I forget…is that day or night? Day I think. Yes, day, I'm sure. But what day is it? I don't remember what day this nightmare started or even how it started.

Looking around, I see a man near the door. He appears to be talking to someone yet I don't see anyone else. I move my head to get a better look and suddenly you are standing there listening to him.

I notice that you are chewing on your lip. I know what that means. You are feeling …. Bad…worried? I want to know what is upsetting you. I want you to tell me, so I can fix it. Give me something to think about beside why I am in this hospital bed.

Nodding at the man, you look my way. You know that I am awake. You look back at the man…a doctor, I think. I want to hear what he is saying so I lift my head. Suddenly, you are gone. I know you have to be there, I can hear the sound of your voice.

I lay my head back down on the pillow and, there you are again, standing in the same spot. I have no fucking idea what is going on. Is someone playing a trick on me? Who would be so cruel? Not you.

The doctor leaves and you turn to me. Your lips smile but your eyes are bright with tears, your forehead wrinkled with worry. I watch you walk towards me. As if by magic, you disappear again. Then there you are, directly beside me. I grab your hand. I can't lose you again.

"What is happening to me?" I don't know how much of that question I actually said but you understand. You've always understood me.

"Bobby…stoates." Stoates? The bad narcotics officer I busted? What does he have to do with this?

"S-t-r-o-k-e." Stroke! No! God no! You are wrong. There is another explanation.

Your hand is pushing me back down when I hadn't even realized that I was getting up. I can see you are concerned. Your eyes move between me and your hand pushing me down. You want me to understand that I need to lie back down. I want you to understand that I need to get out of this room, this place. You push down harder.

People rush in the door and I watch you stand between them and me. I don't understand what is happening but I trust you. You are trying to handle this and I don't want to get in your way. The last time they came, you left me. I'll do anything not to lose you again.

They look from you to me with skepticism so I lay back down. Consciously I make myself relax, unclenching my fists. This seems to satisfy them and they leave.

As soon as the door closes behind them, I look down. When I was unclenching my hands, I realized that my left hand is numb. It tingles like I slept on it wrong. Normally, just thinking about my hand would bring it to my face. This time I have to consciously think – hand lift to my face. It rises as if on a 5 second delay. I look at my right hand and it moves immediately

I close my eyes and visualize the word stroke. Then I try to move the word to my lips. "Stroke?" I open my eyes and look at you.

You smile because I've said the word correctly but your eyes reflect the reality behind the word. Yes, you confirm. I've had a stroke.

I need to know everything, all the details, the symptoms, the future…everything. "Tell. Everything."

You frown a little. You say something and I close my eyes to process it. Wait…doctor…facts...correct. You are worried you will give me the wrong information and you want to wait for the doctor.

"No wait. Now."

You nod your understanding and begin talking. You talk too fast. Your fidgeting moves you out of my sight. I can keep my pride and pretend that I understand or I can admit that you lost me after you said my name. I reach out for you with my left hand. Your hand finds mine. "Slower please."

We fall into our normal pattern of questions and answers although our roles are reversed. Still, I find comfort in its familiarity.

"You a stroke." I still can't really grasp that fact but I nod so we can move forward.

"New drug - tPA – in time." I vaguely remember something about the FDA approving a drug.

"Improving." I love your hopeful smile but show me how I've improved. "You understand now." Yeah - I can sift through words to find the meaning if given time.

"Left brain." Then why can't I get my right hand to move. "Paralysis right side." How much of my body, for how long? You shrug your head to let me know you don't have the answers. "Doctor?"

I close my eyes. Fear, raw terror, washes over me, flooding me. Everything I prided myself on, my intellect, my acute awareness, my memory, my ability to physically intimidate…all gone in an instant. Gone. Who am I without those things? Will they come back? They have to come back.

I feel your cool hands on my face. I open my eyes and you are there.

"Scared" is all I can say. The tears rolling down your face match mine. "Me too Bobby."

Two…women…who are…are…stupid word I can't remember again…come in and move me to a gurney. You put your hands on my face and turn it towards you. "Taking you for tests."

I mumble a "Thank you" to you. It seems so little for what you have given me, the information I need to begin understanding.