Christmas Bell’s

Before all the English teachers and grammar guys have a come-apart, you should know that the apostrophe in Bell’s has a story.

I woke up Monday morning before 6:00 and thought my face felt strange. When I looked in the mirror, I noticed drooping on the right side of my face. While brushing my teeth, I couldn’t spit.

I knew these were signs of a stroke.

By 6:30, Chuck and I were walking into the Saxony Hospital ER. I learned that when the ER staff hears the words “stroke symptoms,” you are treated like the Queen of Noblesville. A doctor, four nurses, and techs greeted me in the treatment room.

Minutes were crucial. I was rushed for a CT scan.

Upon returning to my room, I needed to use the restroom. As I stepped out, Dr. Rusk, the neurologist, was waiting for me. He mentioned that he had “just happened” to be in the hospital and had enough time to check on me. He suspected it could be either a minor stroke or, as I had already researched with Dr. Google, Bell’s Palsy.

The doctor swiftly conducted an exam involving squeezing, pushing, pressing, lifting, and crossing over – it’s a mix between the hokey pokey and hands, knees, and toes.

An MRI was ordered, and I was taken to the room I always said I would never want to be in. I am claustrophobic – big time. The kind technician offered me a WARM blanket.

I avoided looking at the machine. He asked what kind of music I wanted to listen to, and worship music is always my go-to. He explained it would take 25 minutes and be very loud, like tennis shoes in a dryer with an obnoxious buzzer.

As I entered the chamber, the music began. He announced, “First up is Rod Stewart, followed by worship music. I couldn’t help but laugh. Rod Stewart, Matthew West singing “Don’t Stop Praying,” and Zach Williams singing “Chain Breaker.” I felt at peace as I recited the Lord’s Prayer.

I was admitted for observation.

A bit later, I was given a simple swallow test … I failed. I got choked. I would then have to see the speech therapist for another one with barium. Think trying to chew and swallow chalky Play-Doh. I passed, but I need to be very careful.

That afternoon, Dr. Rusk spent a good 15 minutes explaining the results of my MRI. I have Bell’s Palsy, which can be caused by stress or a virus and lasts several weeks or months.

My face droops – not a pretty look. My eyelid will not blink, causing a severe dry eye. When the dryness gets so bad, I tape my eye shut. Artificial tears are always within reach. My face feels like I have been to the dentist for major dental work. My lips do not work. I struggle to eat or drink. Whatever I drink leaks out my mouth, and I cannot use a straw.

Then Dr. Rusk told me something I was not expecting to hear. The MRI determined I have been having small strokes in the past due to the early onset of hardening of the arteries. Bell’s Palsy may have saved me from a much-too-early death.

I am making lifestyle and diet changes. I will also be doing the walking version of Forrest Gump – lots of walking.

Right now, I am taking nine prescriptions. With a regimen of steroids, I am taking 18 pills a day. It will taper to less over the next few days. Speaking is a challenge. Certain words trip me up. Telling the dietary department I needed to order Hawaiian “PUNCH” was funny.

The care I received at Saxony was phenomenal. The doctors, nurses, technicians, dietary aides, speech, occupational, and physical therapists, and the transport guys were all so caring. I asked their names and told them how much I appreciated them. They took the time to explain what they were doing. I’m still laughing at the fact that you can be given an aspirin where the sun doesn’t shine. Who knew? Shots in your stomach are not as painful as you imagine. Navigating a trip to the bathroom with an IV pole gives a new meeting to pole dancing.

Remember the part in the Christmas movie It’s a Wonderful Life where the narrator says, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings”? Let me tell you that when I got Bell’s Palsy, the angels showed up in my room. They didn’t have wings, but they showed up with compassion and spoke with calm assurance that all would be well … eventually.

So, my Christmas may look quite imperfect this year – as do I – but I’m feeling blessed and look forward to good health in 2025.

As you may already know, my husband, Chuck Leonard, is the most caring man. This week, he showed he truly meant it when he vowed “in sickness and health.”

When I said that the apostrophe had a story, I wasn’t kidding. Bell’s Palsy will eventually go away, but I’ll never forget the Christmas of 2024 and its story of the apostrophe.

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I do want to wish all my readers a very Merry Christmas. God bless us, every one!

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.