Ewert Maximilian C. Jehuda

Ischemic stroke of a violinist

I am 30 years old. I was a professional violinist. I emigrated in Europe from Germany to France, and found after the first immigration year work as the concertmaster from the Opera Comique de Paris.though the payment was lousy, the workplace was fine, and I could work with my qualifications, but I was also travelling around Europe, to find a better paid job as a violinist, so the time was one stressful year of immigration, after that non-stop first year as concertmaster while searching and auditioning in whole Europe and besides that teaching violin and so on.

So after one concert, at night after three repetition-services (each 3 hours) and the concert, I was very tired returning home by using the Metro (Paris-Subway). I was so tired, that once I couldn't hold the violin-case anymore, I took it up again, but after a minute it dropped again. During that, I felt so tired, that I saw blinking colours. Suddenly everything audio seemed like somebody was playing with the reverb-channel of my ear, and I had a funny fluttering in my chest.

I was lonely in this Metro tunnel and thought only, ok - I feel like an imploding yeast-dough, but I have to try to come home to my wife, though her very hyperactive 80-year old uncle was there for a visit since a week. I reached the tracks, my violin-case on my left shoulder. I placed it in a corner and looked for the next Metro at the display, only 2 minutes, but after a minute it was difficult to turn around to get back to my violin-case, spittle was leaving mi mouth on the left side. I felt myself repulsive. And during realising the same feeling on the faces of the people around me, my left knee slapped away, and I fell on the floor. The people starred at me with repugnance while I rolled on the floor to my violin-case, because I didn't want it to be stolen. I don't know how long I laid down there, watching a few trains leaving the station, each in the direction of my home, two meters in front of me, but a Metro-employee in her RATP-suit came an told me that alcohol and the subway aren't an acceptable combination.

"I'll be back, soon, if you're still here then..." I tried to respond, but to find the words in a foreign language while having a feeling in the left cheek and tongue, leaded me to just a few noises. Some passenger came to me started talking about that angels are always around and will help me. During that I prepared myself that though in panic I have to tell, I didn't drink, neither had I taken drugs, but call please my wife. The RATP-lady came back, but now I wasn't alone anymore, because the angel-story-passenger, that turned out to be also German-speaking, was there, so the question was now, if she should call the fire brigade, I agreed. For some reasons in Paris they call the fire brigade, when people have health-problems, the police, if there is a fire and so on. Ok, while waiting for the brigade, I heard stories about angels, but I was thankful that this women was there as a place holder. I asked her to call my wife with her cell-phone. The brigade came, first I declared to be sober, I defended my accent (my left face was melting down) by that I am not French as mother-tongue speaking. After clearing that, they asked if I am insured, I told that my "cart vital" is in my right trousers pocket. They discussed and one said -"but when he is so drunken, why there is no smell of alcohol?" That was the key to call an ambulance.

While waiting for the ambulance I asked the fire-men to call my wife, I was lucky that I could pronounce the numbers! The ambulance came, "no, I didn't drink, no, I didn't smoke pot, and no I didn't take or inject any other drugs." -"Yes I have an insurance cart; one of the fire-brigade has it". They checked the cart. Than they let me breath oxygen." Are you better now?"- "No"- "any hurt"-"no" -"so, what's the problem?" - "my left side is leaving"-(je perd ma gauche)"what?" -"My left side is leaving"-"is he drunken?" -"I didn't drink"- the one fire-brigade man went further "he has no smell of alcohol"- so the ambulance told me they'll call a doctor.

I was still in the Metro, waiting now for the ambulance doctor. He came, gave me some infusion, declared "it's not diabetic" and called for another doctor, the fire-brigade now carried me out of the Metro, I told the new doctor "I didn't drink and didn't take drugs, this is the first time this happens to me, could there be a neurological reason?" This doctor agreed and called the neurological-urgency, by using his cell phone. I asked, if he could call my wife, to inform her where I am, so he asked for the number dialled and was speaking to - the uncle, because my wife was already searching me in the hospitals of Paris, using a taxi because every Metro was closed.

Because the uncle was from Argentina and not French speaking, the doctor gave me the cell phone, I tried to calm down the uncle, to tell him to listen to me, explained I will go to a hospital (I asked for which one the doctor called). So the ambulance drove to the hospital.

From this point everybody was more speedy, they pushed me into this IRM, and a doctor told me, I had a stroke. I asked how long I have to stay, because I have a recital concert in a week. My wife was at the right hospital (she had been at home, and the uncle had noticed the name of the hospital), but my name was not already in the computer. When she insisted, the safety-guard pushed her out, in the cab, she told the taxi-driver about it. This man assumed maybe he isn't already listed in the computer, and gave her a list of the hospital phone numbers. At home she called, now I was in the computer. When she arrived in the intensive-station, they started to give me an anti-coagulant-infusion.

They asked me and her about, do I drink - I was since more than a year anti-alcohol. I wasn't smoking since five years, doing sports (swimming).

The next day after breakfast I saw my left arm. Totally paralysed - worst case for a violinist. I cried. The doctor saw me crying and decided to switch from Zoloft to 12mg Stablon a day. Nobody told me anything, I only got different pills.

Because of visiting four days before the stroke chiropractic, they thought, this was it. But further exploration showed there was no injury at all at the whole spine, my LDL and HDL was fine, and I got another stroke three days after the infusion. They checked the ECG and found a little strange p-valve and symptoms of WPW. But nobody told me about the other stroke, I only remembered a second IRM and that I was like a helpless sausage. They decided to start with aspirin. I was after one week of 100% intensive station transferred to the cerebral-vascular-urgency tract. They decided, I should get the first physiotherapy by their Spanish trainee, because I was also Spanish speaking, what should be easier for her.

The doctors seemed competent, but the nursing-staff I had to explain, that the wrist doesn't work out for the blood pressure. I didn't want to take Lexomil three times a day, because I left so much of my body, I at least want to be with my mind. The staffs weren't amused.

After a month I was transferred to a re-education hospital. Next to me was a Vietnamese patient with a multiple fracture of his leg. A very kind guy, we started the same day at the hospital. At the first day he couldn't use his leg. They didn't allow us for two weeks to come for a week-end at home. After the third week he couldn't use anymore his left arm, the diagnosis of the doctor-visit was "bizarre", I was for one week-end with my wife -two month after the concert, I finally reached my home. After the fourth week also my room-mate of the hospital was at home for a weekend, he came back with full-recovery of his arm functions. Sometimes I had to protest, when the nursing staff insisted to give me antibiotic - the medication of my neighbour. They were very upset, that I wasn't like the other stroke-cases, calm, and waiting for becoming retired after hospital - but I was the only one under 75. Financially I will not get such an easy out, and I was a violinist.

Maybe I wasn't calm enough to accept that they wanted me to leave the used toilet paper in a paper basket in the room and that there was from 6 a.m. until 17 p.m. a pneumatic hammer turning down the floor above us (the hospital was under deconstruction). During my stay the only not-aggressive staff-member was the othophonist, that had also studied psychology and, surprise, studied my mother tongue. So even the neuropsychological tests were extremely boring, and I had to make them twice, in German and then in French. I enjoyed the hours of the day, not getting insulted- at the time I didn't know why I was asked for hours questions about designs of chairs with only two legs, memory-tests and so on...While that, one doctor had a kind of breakdown, screaming at me, that I shouldn't get a crutch, because all Jews like me are an aggressive race, I shouldn't get the possibility to perform that (at the time I was a total cripple) -but because my Holter was pretty criminal, I had to go to cardiology, and the re-education cheif told me, I won't come back, they will send me an physiotherapist at my home-place, what they never did, they send to my place only bills.

After physic-cardiac-exploration, the cheif of the rhythmic tract was at my bed, when I woke up, and explained, he believes, it was very possible, that my bradokardie mixed with extra systoles and some other vulnerability of the atrium could have caused my stroke. Until that time I started to ask my wife, to bring me books about anatomy, cardiology, neurology and physiotherapy that I can start to understand the medical-Chinese that was talked. When I left the cardiology, that seemed working excellent, they gave me my cardiological and neurological reports. It was then when I discovered, that I had two strokes by reading the report, and that my arrhythmic-heart problems were well known, after the tests for the army, that I didn't join. The cardio logical report ten years before my stroke showed a too slow heart, with a to fast Atrium, and suggested to get every year a heart check-up, especially because during my childhood my heart stopped beating twice. The result of this delicate document was sent ten years before to my general practitioner, who only told me about the rarely nothing, only that I should drink less coffee. At this time I never got a duplicate - with 20 I stayed at my parent's home and my father was the general practitioner. So end of December I couldn't move up my left feet, neither my whole left arm, I had no crutch (you remember the incident, why the hospital before decided to leave me in the wheel chair), and no wheel chair, the cardiology gave me a reception, to be able to buy these things, at home was no physiotherapist and while taking from know until the rest of my life warfarine, I waited for a place in an ambulant re-education clinic, which I am visiting since February three times a week, not knowing how long they will take me.

Since March I got additional breakdowns, means I feel like somebody is sucking off my energy. I consulted the neurology- where I saw for the first time the photos of my brain, that told me first to observe my heart troubles, if that's not the cause they will start with anti-epileptic treatment. After one month Cardiatel there was no really evidence. I still am sometimes with wide pupils on the floor, especially in the evening, though I contacted again the neurology until know there is no answer.

I have no income anymore, but I am under contract as violinist. I don't know the future. Maybe I am supposed to do what everybody does - to wait until retirement, but in my case it's about 35 years minimum.

Thanks to Maximilian for sending in his profile. Anyone else who would like to share their story can send it along with a photograph (if you're not shy!)

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