My name is Paul Willand. I am married and a father of 4 children ranging in age from 16 to 11. Two boys and two girls. Great kids. My wife is a nurse who cares for critically ill patients in both ICU and CCU. Didn't ever think that I might be one of those patients. We live in a small town south of Omaha Nebraska where I coach youth sports, run all the baseball umpiring for the summer programs and help try create and foster spirit and pride in today's young people. On the side I run an executive search business dedicated to managing careers of physician executives in the managed care business on an international business. I am 39.
My bleed, as the doctors called it happened on August 7, 1998. It's funny how you remember days when you had surgery. I had been asked by a friend if I wanted to play an early round of golf about 8am. It was Friday and my assignments were pretty much taking care of themselves so I opted to play. We had a good time as usual with me missing a putt to put him away. I guess missing a 5 foot birdie putt really can kill some people. Nothing extraordinary happened there. I went home, the course was only 5 minutes from the house, showered and got ready for work. Kissed the kids and my wife good-bye and drove the 15 miles to the office. Still all is well. I remember finishing a conversation with a client when the first symptoms began to appear. "I can't afford to get sick now" I thought to myself as I put the receiver back on the phone. It felt like the flu. Then the migrating headache began. It felt like a stress headache. Started in the back of my neck. But it was different. You could feel as it moved up the neck over the top of the head and back in front of the eyes. Just a dull headache nothing severe. But the strangest thing was happening. Every time the pain crossed the top of my head a different symptom appeared. First my stomach turned and I felt like I had to vomit. Then when the pain went back down the neck I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. It was then that I knew something was strong. I had headaches before, self induced and not and none had ever done that.
All alone in my office and feeling very poorly. The headache now is constant. The top of my head feels as if it is going to blow off. I am lightheaded, dizzy and sick to my stomach. My eyesight is a little off. I probably really look like shit cause that's how I feel. The phone. Call home. It rings. My 12 year old daughter picks it up. Mom is not home try her cell. I dial, it rings, a soothing voice says hello. In the 17 years we have been together my wife never has had to get me from anywhere. I am and can be a workaholic. As my father once told me, "it's better to be at work getting something accomplished than to be at home feeling worse." So when I told her what I was feeling I also asked her to come and pick me up. Surprise. I also told her that I would be lying down on the floor in my office because it felt better when my head was back. The 6 mm Berry aneurysm had been leaking until enough blood filled the cavity behind my eyes and began to displace my brain. Four clots had already formed. But when, how could this happen and you don't feel anything till the game is almost over. The silent killer is right. Symptoms present at 11:00am and i'm in intensive care by 2:00pm and nobody knows what's happening.
It has been 20 minutes. I have been laying on the floor, half passed out. My wife arrives. Asks how I'm feeling. Says I don't look too bad. I sit up and she says I look like the blood drains out of me. I'm 38 this can't be happening. I played semipro baseball. How could my body do this?
The trip to the hospital I don't remember. I did go down 4 flights of stairs to get to my car. Told my wife the steps were quicker. She was terrified that I would fall down them but I didn't. The ER. She parked the car and I went in. They admitting person did not believe I was in dire straits. I was walking, talking and basically normal. Then my wife enters the picture and explains my symptomology. I wandered off but a paramedic found me. Into the back. Heart monitors, a nurse who could not find a vein and stuck me 10 times before I asked my wife to get her out. My eyesight was blurry, my hearing was very acute, my head hurt and I had to go to the bathroom. No heart problems, blood pressure low, tunnel vision in my right eye. Blackout.
The CAT scan was next. Only things I remember about that was the table was cold, I had to throw up and lift my elbows when the gantry moved. MRI next. Large needle inserted in femoral artery, dye injected, lightning bolts in my head. Only thing I remember about this was asking someone "why is my crotch cold." Blackout.
They did not do surgery until Saturday. I did not know this because I was not doing too well. The doctors informed my wife. Not good. Subarachnoid Hemorrhage. Better get people close. My oldest son was in Illinois with my parents. Glad it wasn't me who had to make that phone call. Others at home thinking dad is at a meeting. The truth is coming. Parents, sister, brothers all converging on Omaha. The Sarge is in the fight of his life. Saturdays surgery is 51/2 hours long. Eight millimeter Titanium clip, hole in head, insert to stop bleeding. Sounds simple enough. Two doctors, 20 fingers all instruments of God. They gave me a fighting chance. I made it through surgery. Still a blackout.
"Is today really the 13th," I asked a passing shadow. Yes, came the reply. "Good," I remember sluggishly snapping back, "then I can wish my daughter a happy 13th birthday." Awake 6 days later. What happened? Where am I? Everybody happy. Still a blank. I am strapped to my bed. Needles in my arms in more places than I thought they could be placed. My head hurts. My blood pressure cuffs fills automatically every 15 minutes. The worst of all was when the nurses gave me Dilantin directly into my veins. Felt like fire shooting up my arm. Don't do it anymore. But the Doctors said I needed it. Fourteen days later I breathe the first breath of outside air. Lost a lot of weight, had a funny haircut, felt someone had betrayed me. It shouldn't have happened to me. Home at last. Everyone looking at you funny trying not to notice the crescent shaped scar running around your head. Pills every 4 hours around the clock. Nimadipodine the neurological wonder, Dilantin the seizure protector. No work, no driving. Staying at home in a panic. Mad, feel betrayed, where did the bus come from that hit me. Depression, anxiety. Can't remember the next word in a sentence. Frustrated. Why me?
I went back to work 3 or 4 months post incident. My doctors even let me coach our football team to an 8-1 season. Forgot all about it. Got the business back on its feet. No income for 4-5 months can really hurt. Today still suffer depression, which Zoloft seems to control, I take Xanax for periodic anxiety and still at times wonder, "why ME?" Well, like a friend told me, "why not you?" I am a survivor like you. I applaud your courage to face life everyday knowing how close we all came to death. You are my family also. Together we shall all survive.