One Sunday

One Sunday after noon. The kids, we had four at the time and we wanted a #5, where watching veggie tales in the family room. Neal and I were upstairs taking a Sunday nap. Neal said to me, "my head" I looked at him and said what about your head? He didn't respond... I thought he was joking, I said, stop messing with me or I am going to call 911. Neal said, "don't call 911" but the word wouldn't come out. All I saw was his face looking terrified and confused. I called 911, I called the neighbors to come watch the kids. The paramedics where there in 3 minutes. They carried him down our long flight of stairs and into the ambulance. I follow in our car. I beat the ambulance to the hospital. I guess it isn't that serious if they don't have the lights flashing. I wait. I cry in the waiting room. They call me back and say that them think my husband has had a brain infarct. What ever that means. I need to decide if the Dr's can give him a clot buster. If they don't give him the medicine he will be a vegetable. If he has the medicine his brain could hemerage and he could be worse or die, but you need to decide right now because we only have a small window in order for the medicine to work. (so why didn't the ambulance drive with the lights on) I ask the Dr. what would you do, she says that she would take the risk. How does a person make that kind of decision for someone else? How do I play the card that will change Neal's life forever. I said ok. They gave it to him. He hemeraged.