My Stroke Story- Kid’s Versions

This is an essay entitled, “Stroke,” that my nine-year-old daughter, Molly wrote for her third grade teacher:

“While Ma was reading the news, Laura heard the sound of Almanzo’s horsebuggy riding down the road . . .”
my mom read aloud as my dad drove the car. Outside the car window I could see we passes a hospital sign.
We were driving home from our ski trip to Denver, Colorado.

“Pa and Laura got up . . . .” Suddenly my mom stopped reading.

“Mom, what happened?” I asked. Mom didn’t answer.

Dad noticed right away that something was wrong. He pulled the car over, got out, and opened Mom’s door.
Mom had to turn her whole head to see him because she could not see out of her right eye. Dad tried to help
her get out of the car, but . . .

“My right side won’t move,” she said.

Dad shut Mom’s door, hopped in the car and turned around. I saw the hospital sign again, and a few minutes
later we reached a hospital.

“Out of the car,” said Dad.

“What happened?” we asked.
Dad didn’t answer. He told us to wait in a waiting room while he and Mom went to look at a sign labeled,
“Specialties.” One of the specialties was: “Strokes.”

Well they got Mom on blood thinners right away because as it turned out she had a stroke. What’s so funny
is when the doctors were coming to look at Mom, Dad said, “At least it’s not a stroke.” He was wrong.

A month later Mom had surgery. She had a hole in her heart. She got it when she was born. The surgeons
closed up the hole, so pretty much she’s back to normal.

I’m glad God was with us!

And this is eight-year-old Reese’s version:

Today is Thursday, January 8, 2004. My Mom and Dad got home yesterday from Pueblo, Colorado because
my Mom had a stroke. She had blood that was stuck together, a clot, and the clot went to the heart, but she
had a hole in her heart so the clot went to her brain and it clogged up the blood vessels on her left side and
her right side went num[b] and that’s why she just got home.

       

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Leslie Wilson Bio

Leslie Wilson Headshot  

I belong. To God, to Bret (my husband of 23 years), and to my precious children—Charlie, Molly & Reese.

I’m blessed. To speak, write, edit and market for a living.

I’m called. To thrive in life—to find contentment where I am and with what I have.

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