Bonjour! My name is Gaétan Legault and my beautiful wife is Leigh. I also have a gem of a stepdaughter named Sarah. She is fourteen years old. We live in Denver, Colorado. We would love to re-locate to a smaller town one day. We were married on Sept. 26, 1998. Three weeks prior to my burst aneurysm. Hell of a way to start a marriage, you would think. It just made us stronger.
I have been a member of Engineering teams in Canada from one ocean to the other. We designed some magnificent Precast Structures. I was self-employed for most of this, but in 1996, my life needed a change. I wanted to belong somewhere. I could not have chosen a better place. I now work for Leap Associates International, Inc. We kick major butt in precast. We do a lot of it.
Like my work, I lived my life hard. My wife commented a lot on my spirit. I did not need an aneurysm to teach me a lesson in life. For the decade prior to 1998, I rode a bicycle everywhere (wearing normal clothing) 365 days/year. I have lived between 8 to 15 miles from work. I sold my last car. Mondays and Fridays did not mean anything to me. The reason for this last paragraph, I am the author of the letter sent to this site last month entitled "I am a survivor but". The fact that I can't do physically and mentally is very very very frustrating. The people on this site felt my frustration and anger even in such a short letter. Thanks to this site and its people, I am in much better frame of mind. Enough to listen to some of them and write my own story. It is also my Family's, their friends and my co-worker's.
I am Gaétan's wife Leigh. Gaétan asked me to write about the first three weeks my family and I went through following his injury because he has no recollection of anything. However he knows something is wrong. He has a hard time dealing with the aftermath. I hope going through the process of compiling and telling his story will help him realize the severity and seriousness of the incident, help him to deal with it in the most healthy way possible, and also to see how blessed and lucky he is. Your site helped some. When I recount to him events during his first three weeks he bursts into tears and apologizes for putting Sarah and I though an ordeal he has no recollection or control of. Having no recollection of his ordeal in the hospital bothers him, however having no control over what happened to him has been devastating. Hopefully having an opportunity to share his story with you will help him to become whole again and move on in his life with the zest he is known for.
On October 15th, 1998 I called Gaétan at work, a couple hours earlier than I usually do, just for fun. His secretary paused and said, "We have been trying to contact you!" When I asked her why she told me that Gaétan had been airlifted to St. Anthony's Central. My first thought was that he had had a heart attack (his dad and grandfather died of heart attacks). Times when we would lay together and I could hear his heart beat, I frequently said a prayer asking God to please bless his heart and make it strong. I never thought to pray asking God to please don't let that aneurysm burst. (We had no idea he even had one). I was relieved, only for an instant, when the secretary said he was found in the bathroom unconscious and no one could wake him. Then she said they suspected some kind of head injury, that perhaps he had fallen or something. She could not tell me much more than that. Then Gaétan's boss Craig (whom Gaétan holds in extreme esteem) came on the line telling me more of the particulars, such as Gary (a co-worker) found him in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, his pants down, throw-up all over and him snoring. They called 911. Craig asked me if I was okay and did I need a ride. I declined the ride, not wanting to be a burden, and told him I would be fine. In reality I was not fine. I politely hung up and fought off a panic. I ran up the stairs of the college where I was at the time and burst into an office demanding to know where St. Anthony's Central Hospital was and how to get there. Fortunately the hospital was not far from where I was. I had a very long (but fast) walk to my car - long enough to pray, panic, pray some more, and gather myself for whatever lay ahead.
I arrived at the hospital emergency entrance, and must have parked, although I don't remember doing it. (When it was time to leave my friend drove me around the parking lot to find my car because I did not remember where I left it. I was relieved to find it was even parked in a parking space!)
Once inside I found someone that was able to tell me anything about a man, my husband, brought via helicopter with a possible head injury. I told her who I was and the woman told me someone would be out to speak with me right away. I expected to hear about a concussion or something of that nature. I was approached by an emergency technician who asked me to sit down. (I did not like the sound of that!) She explained that Gaétan has sustained some type of head injury, possibly a stroke but that they were not sure. They were running some tests that would tell them what was going on inside my husband's head and would let me know as soon as they were able. I was reassured that Gaétan was in good hands, that St. Anthony's Central has the best trauma unit in the nation. Then she turned and left. I was left sitting there feeling like someone had just slapped me and I could not believe what was happening. I did the first thing that came to mind and called my best friend, telling her where I was and that I needed her! She did not hesitate, just said she would be right there and hung up. There have been very few times in my life when I have felt that alone and scared.
A surgical nurse came out a couple hours later informing me that Gaétan had a ruptured aneurysm (subarchanoid hemorrhage) and will have to have surgery. I had no clue what she was talking about, I did not know what any of what she was saying meant. I was told that a neurosurgeon, Dr. Prall, would be out to speak with me. Finally Dr. Prall came and explained the logistics of Gaétan's condition to me. He also told me that without the surgery Gaétan would not make it through the night, that he would die. A nurse came almost immediately after with papers for me to sign. She explained the risks involved. She told me the rate of success and many scenarios of the outcome of such an injury. I signed the papers she had for me to sign without a second thought.
Six of the longest hours went by. The same surgical nurse came back to tell me the surgery went well, my husband is in recovery, and that Dr. Prall would be right down to speak with me. The Doctor proceeded to tell me that he found the burst aneurysm in the Right Anterior Communicating Artery, it was clipped with a titanium clip and that he looked everywhere to ensure that there were no more aneurysms anywhere else in Gaétan's brain. He was confident that there were no others. He also made it clear that Gaétan was not out of the woods yet and that the next two weeks were critical. There is a chance of a re-belled or stroke and that the main objective is to keep his blood pressure stable and to prevent any vasospasms. Only time would tell if Gaétan lives through all of this, and at this time there is no way of knowing what, if any, brain damage there would be. Of course I asked can I see him. . .
When I saw Gaétan he was strapped to the bed, naked with only a sheet, tubes and wires coming from most every part of his body, restless and combative. My heart sank! His eyes were open but what used to be dazzling hazel eyes were replaced with black holes. There were no signs of life in his eyes. I was sitting by the bed, holding his hand. The most amazing thing happened. Gaétan rubbed the palm of my hand with the tip of his fingers, as he did all the time. My husband is in there I thought. Somewhere. Thank You Lord. I asked the nurse if he could hear me. She said she thought he could so I repeatedly reminded Gaétan of the promises he made to me just a few weeks ago, and told him how much I loved him, wanted him, and needed him.
In order to control Gaétan's blood pressure and avoid vasospasms that could be deadly, they put him in a Medically Induced Coma (MIC). Even in such a state my husband was struggling to pull the sheets over himself (he is so modest.) I asked the nurse if we could put some pants on him so he could relax. She helped me put some hospital pants on him, cover him more securely, and Gaétan slept. I sat there with him, listening to his heart beat, seeing him so vulnerable to death, praying please God don't take him.
I spent the night at the hospital thinking of the whole array of scenarios the nurse laid out to me. I wondered if Gaétan even lived would I have to take care of him for the rest of his life, and would I be willing to do that. This is not the life I had envisioned for Gaétan and I but I resolved that I would do whatever I needed to do. I am his wife and I will be there for him, no matter what.
(During the next couple of days while Gaétan was fighting for his life, my grandmother lost her fight and died on the 18th. I was not able to be there for my mother who was experiencing tremendous loss, and she was not able to be there for me. I did not go to school or work for the following week, and much of my life at that time is a blur. I just know I worked real hard to keep strong for Gaétan and our new family.)
Over the course of the next few days they kept Gaétan heavily sedated and medicinally controlled his blood pressure. One of the nurses used a felt-tip pen to mark blood pressure points all over Gaétan's body. I told the nurse that she may think I've lost it, but could I write on him too? I got the pen and a perplexed look. I proceeded in drawing a Heart followed with an exclamation point (my signature to Gaétan) everywhere on his body (within reason, of course). I wanted him to know that I had been there just in case he woke and I was not in the room at the time. Of course by the time he woke and become even slightly aware of what was going on, the marks were gone.
On the 19th, they finally took him out of MIC. The respirator came out as well and as soon as they determined that he could breathe on his own and had no further need to be on a respirator they untied him. The first thing he did was remove the gauze "hat" he was wearing. He was then moved from SICU to ICU.
The 20th for me was a landmark day. The nurse pointed to me and asked Gaétan. "Do you know who this lady is?" "That's my honey" he replied with a painful, tired smile. "Do you know her name?" "Her name is Leigh." He kept on smiling. Yessss! I felt down deep inside. I was so afraid he would forget about me, our wedding, and the beautiful relationship that we shared. (Something kind of oddly humorous was a comic strip in Oct. 17th newspaper, Classic Herman which has Herman in a hospital bed and his wife being told by the doctor, "He's getting better. He can remember everything now except getting married J) Gaétan did remember me!!
For the next week they tested Gaétan extensively. He went through swallowing tests, physical tests, cognitive tests, and passed them all with flying colors. Gaétan sustained no detectable impairments as a result of his injury except in terms of short term memory, and emotions. How very blessed and lucky he is!! Many individuals who have had the same experience have not faired nearly as well.
Over the duration of Gaétan's stay in the hospital, as a standard procedure, he was given breathing treatments several times a day. Now Gaétan has been a smoker for quite a number of years and by now I'm sure he's jonesin' for a cigarette pretty bad. They were giving him his breathing treatments with a tubular type apparatus and he was trying to smoke it. It was amusing to watch on one hand, but on the other I knew it had to be a type of torment for him as well. I requested that further breathing treatments be given with the mask rather than the tube. In addition, Gaétan was going to have to make a choice once he was released from the hospital about whether or not he would continue to be a smoker. If he chose not to smoke, then all the tube was doing was reinforcing his tactical habit which would ultimately make it harder to quit. (He did not chose to quit, however).
Ga�an is very active and is constantly on the go. He insisted on independence in using the restroom and would just get up and try to walk away from the bed when he had to go, regardless of the catheter that was in place and the IV. Needless to say he didn't go far. They had to sew his IV in to keep him from pulling it out, and was lectured numerous times to leave the heart monitor tabs connected to his chest. Not the easiest patient in the world, but I knew his determination was what was going to get him out of there.
Ga�an loves to go for his cigarette and coffee breaks. Over the next few weeks he drove us all insane with his insistent requests to go for a cigarette. Dr. Prall came for a visit. He gave Gaétan a long speech as to how smoking can kill him, especially at that time when vasospasms were such a threat. When the doctor finished. Gaétan looked at him and me and said "Can I go for a cigarette now?" The doctor looked at me with such a discouraged look. "Does he not understand what I am saying?" I told the doctor that I didn't think it was a matter of him not understanding, more like it was a matter of him not accepting the situation.
On the 24th, Gaétan looked at me with his hazel eyes this time. He said "Do you know what I see?" "What do you see?" I replied. "A big red rose" he said with a smile. I was so happy. You have to know me to appreciate this. There are roses all over my house. I love roses. The next day however, he mimicked a dog's mouth with his right hand going "Aarr, Aarr". "What are you doing?" I asked. "It's a BIG RED DRAGON" he said. (Hence, the title of Gaétan's story). I covered his left eye and asked "Do you see it now?" "No", he said. I then covered his right eye. "And now? "A BIG RED DRAGON". I was concerned that perhaps he had a tear in his retina or something so I asked the nurse to make arrangements for Gaétan to see an eye doctor. After being examined by the eye doctor we found there was no tear in his retina, just blood in his eye region from his injury.
During the following few days Gaétan slept way too much and his head started to look like the Elephant Man's (that's his term, not mine). His head was filling with fluid and not draining properly into his spine, caused by a blockage from the blood he bled into his head that his body had not yet reabsorbed. His head was swollen and to the touch felt like a sponge cake (kind of springy). So they inserted what they call a shunt to drain fluid from his head through his spine to help his body maintain the appropriate amount of fluid and pressure in his head. It was very important that he lay still and not change the height of his head. Of course Gaétan being the patient that he was did not lay still, nor did he ask for assistance in going to the bathroom. As a result he pulled the shunt loose from his spine and they had to reinsert another. And of course he is still nagging all of us to take him outside and for a cigarette.
Finally they were able to take the shunt out. Gaétan was healing to the point that he was moved to the regular ward, and then discharged to Mediplex Rehab Hospital on November 2nd. (His constant nagging to get out of there probably helped them to make the decision to release him to the rehab hospital J).
Ga�an does not remember any of that experience. He recognizes himself from the stories he has been told. He comments often that yes it must have been him in there because the things we have been telling him sound like things he would say and do, but he does not remember a thing. Gaétan loves to make people laugh. He did not loose his sense of humor while in the hospital, and it was an indication to many that he would eventually be okay, but it bothers him tremendously that he seems to have lost much of that sense of humor for now. He claims that all he does now is make people miserable, and to a degree, sometimes he is right. He's not the cheery, up type person that he is known for, and is frequently filled with the negative energy that he once was so abhorred by in the past. The point where his memory kicks in is the trip to Mediplex in an ambulance. From that point on he remembers everything. So at this point I will turn this over to him for him to tell you the rest of his story. Thank you for letting us share his story. It has been a tool for helping us both.
Bonjour! This is me again. Gaétan. The worst part of this past story my wife wrote. I don't remember a thing, even to this day. I put her, my stepdaughter and the rest of my family through so much. Not to mention my co-workers who had to pick-up my slack. I just couldn't do anything at all. Maan!
I'm lying down in an ambulance. My two attendants said they were taking me to The Mediplex Re-Hab Center. They told me where they were taking me from, and what I have gone through. "Why can't my wife drive me?" Insurance requirements. OK, maybe I needed to find out what shape I'm really in. I'm told I was in a life and death situation, so I'm curious. I try to sit up, they would not let me. I sat up anyway. When we got there, I saw Leigh, that's my wife you know. I wonder what we're in for. For insurance reason again, they wheeled me in the building on the bed. I was then wheeled to my room, in the locked ward. Then I finally got up. I held hands with Leigh. The nurses who checked me in talked to me really slow and really loud. I talked them out of that one. After I was all checked into my room. Yes you guessed it. We went for a cigarette. She brought my own. Export "A" Canadian cigarettes. Waaa! That felt good. We are totally enclosed by buildings, they look like army barracks. I am not free to leave. What the heck is going on? Well at least I can smoke and eat and meet people.
I felt very angry at first, but when I met the other patients, who suffered the same thing. I understood. I did not belong in here however. Seeing those other patients made me feel very lucky to just be thinking that way. No coffee but de-caf in here. I go without. At least I can smoke. They keep giving me tests in here both physical and mental. Tests written for five year olds. I know this sounds cruel. These tests are necessary. I just did not belong in here. Insurance.
My wife came to visit me constantly. I just love the woman sooooo much. I made her and my counselors laugh once. The test was "Which item does not belong in this group?", in pictures format of course. The options were. 1. television. 2. newspaper 3. magazine 4. book. I said the book. They looked at me very disappointed and perplexed. I had done very well on all other questions. My wife shook her head and smiled. She knew I was pulling a Gaétan. She told them to ask me why, so they did. "Why did you choose the book?", "You can learn from a book." I replied. They smiled too. Leigh smiled so radiantly while she said "Yeah! That's my Gaétan."
There is not one day that went by, I did not ask "Can I go home now?". They were testing me always some more. On the 18th of November, finally the coordinator of the facilities, Bob, told me he had been speaking with Craig, my boss, about coming up with a test for me at the office. I felt such a sense of relief. Craig is one heck of a guy. He came up basically with something he needed done and that did not take too long. I was taken to my office on the afternoon of the 18th. Craig watched as I sat down and got right back to what it is that I do. He watched me for a while, he then looked at my counselors and said, "You want him back, you are going to have to take him." Some more of my co-workers asked me "When are you getting back to work?". Wow! I am feeling so warm inside. Even, in my counselors face I saw some contentment. I had no idea my life affected so many. I was released the next day. November the 19th, my birthday.
Coming home to my family was I can't think of a word, just so excellent. I went back to work and completed what little was left of the Miami Heat project.
Everything was going very well. No side effects of any kind. No headaches. Nothing. I very much noticed the short-term memory. Besides the short-term memory, it was just as I had left it. My wife tells me stories of my incident and the following three weeks. I can't recall. I know it was ME doing those things, because I see me doing those things easy. I just could not help her. When she recounts events, I truly burst into tears often. You should see the look in her face as she speaks. I feel so helpless. I often do apologize for doing this to her, not to mention Craig and George, the owner of the company. She says "Gaétan, YOU are the victim here of an accident. You were a busy boy, but you came back to me and you've gone back to work. It's all that counts honey".
Well I thought things were going well. As time goes by, I start to notice something different about myself. My zest for anything around me, for life. I mentioned it to Leigh in November. She sighed. "I was afraid to bring it up". Craig came to my office often asking "Are you OK?", "Yes. Why?" "Well You're not your usual Up." Every time I came up with the same reply. "Craig, just because I'm not up, doesn't mean I'm down". He'd always leave with a concerned look in his face. " I ask myself that same question everyday, Craig" I tell myself. What IS going on? My enthusiasm about my work is very faint. I hardly make love to my wife anymore. It's not like I don't want to. It just isn't there. My family, my work, my software. There is definitely something wrong. Like everything else thus far I can't control this. Yes, I am a survivor but
I saw a neurologist at the time, a few times, insurance. He was appointed to me after the aneurysm. He asked me a few questions, I answered. He would shake his head. "Amazing Amazing". So here I am, I don't remember a thing, yet people look at me like I have accomplished something. I feel very blessed, I wish, I could remember. On January 21st I mentioned my emotions problem. He gave me a prescription for Zoloft. They're in the garbage and I never saw him again. There has been a definite improvement in that area since. I find myself a little moody, but that shall pass too.
It's mid-July now. I notice my concentration weakening by 3:00 pm. I feel very tired. I have to leave work. Craig likes to run a well organized workplace. I am not helping him any. Three weeks, no change. Leigh, Craig and I are all concerned. My hobby at home is Software Development. I can't even do that after dinner and weekends anymore.
August 11th, I wake up at my usual time, 5:00 a.m. The coffee is ready, I get up to go to the pantry and get a napkin. It is by now 5:15 a.m. Next thing I know, I wake up on the floor. I feel rested but really wonder what the heck I'm doing here. I get up, look at the clock. It is now 5:45 am. What on earth happened? In 1987 I passed out twice in one month. The doctors told me it was exhaustion. So I think I am simply exhausted. I have been stressed with work and my emotions. I wake up my wife at 6:00 a.m. as usual. I tell her what has just happened. She does not like it. I call in sick at 8:00 and tell Craig what has just transpired. He told me, "Gaétan, take a few days off, we'll take care of what's happening down here." I feel very discouraged to be a load again. Leigh took the day off also. We are lying in bed. As she was speaking to me, I went right in mid-sentence. Next thing I know, she is over me, on the telephone. I ask, "Who are you talking to?" I didn't remember hearing the phone. She had such a worried look on her face "911" she replied. "Hang-up" I said, "What's going on?" By now I'm downright pissed. My left arm was jerking around. She thought I was having a stroke. Poor woman, the things I put her through. I wanted to call 911 and cancel and go there on my own. Man, these guys are fast. They insisted I once again ride in the back on my back.
It turns out, I am having seizures. Dr. Strauss my new Neurologist told me these were common results of brain surgery. I could have been expecting them to manifest themselves 8 to 10 months after surgery. My last neurologist never told me such things. Dr. Strauss gave me the most common of medications, Dilantin. These were not working for me at all, side effect too numerous to mention. In two days. I saw Dr. Strauss again. This time he gave me Tegretol XR. Well My reaction was not as bad. But there is something else happening. I feel twice as tired by mid-day and can't concentrate.
I am interrupting here so I can explain my working only half-days now. In the midst of all this happening. We discovered a mistake that will cost my company $100,000.00 in remedials. We traced it back to Jul. 26th approximately. I am the best candidate for that one. I could say with all my heart I don't remember doing this. The way my short-term memory has been failing. I don't even trust me anymore. My boss Craig, the owner of the company George Southworth and I all agreed. Until my medical problems are cleared up I will work only half-days. So my co-workers will have to pick-up my slack again. When I really feel up to it. Six hours a day. Then, cross your fingers people, I will be full time again.
With this medication I may not be getting seizures, although from what I have been reading, no guarantee. But the trade off for me is not acceptable. Since my first seizures, I truly feel these were it for me. There is no history of seizures in my family nor my life. Last month, when my EEG came back normal, I tried to talk my Neurologist in stopping the medication. He would not have it. I wrote this letter on the e-mail entitled "I am a survivor but". I have gotten many, many responses. You beautiful people you. The general consensus out there was, "Medication is better than seizures. Learn to accept it." One response however struck home for me. There is a man out there with the same problems I have encountered with the medication. Except he did not cost $100,000.00 to his company. He finally convinced his doctor and went off the medication. He has not had a seizure since, three years have passed. Guess what People. I finally convinced my doctor also. It hurt his feelings, the fact that I would listen to e-mail over him. Today is my last day on meds. TaDa
When I find out how to do it. I may add to this story and give you a true happy ending. To all of you people out there, Thank You. And you Newcomers. You have come to the right place.