Rebuilding my Life on a Secure Foundation   

A Family of Builders 

My name is Karl Hostetler and for my entire life I was a builder. I learned my trade from my dad who was a builder, he learned his trade from his dad, my grandpa, who was a builder and a pastor. My son, Bryan, is a builder as well. Four generations of builders. I guess building is in my blood.

When my stroke happened, a lot of what I had built as I built my life was damaged.  Sort of like a house in a fire. Some things are left and some things are damaged and need to be rebuilt. When I was still in the hospital, when I couldn’t talk, when I couldn’t say my name, I realized I am the same man inside, my “me” didn’t change. Since we’re talking in construction terms, I realized early on that the foundation of my life was secure. But what was built on it needed some work.

The Story of my Stroke

I was remodeling a lodge at a camp in the mountains.  Two hours away. Three hours if you count traffic. So I was living in a cabin at the camp during the week and I commuted home for the weekends.  It was off-season so no one was living at the camp but me. 

It was Feb 5, 2021 and I was traveling back to my house. I was talking on the phone with the other contractor who was involved with the project. I commented that my mouth felt numb, like when the novocain from the dentist starts to wear out. He responded, that happens to me sometimes, it is probably an allergic reaction. He suggested benadryl. So I did that, and the next morning it was gone.  That only half of my face was numb, should have raised some red flags, but it didn’t. That I might be having a stroke never occurred to me.

That next day was a normal day. In the middle of the next night I was up to use the bathroom. There is generally enough ambient light in our bedroom to use the bathroom without using the lights.  But my wife was already there, so I traipsed down the hallway to the other bathroom. 

When I clicked on the light, I realized something was going on in my eyes, I blinked and squinted. When I closed my right eye I realized I couldn’t see anything, I was blind in my left eye.

“I can’t see out of my left eye!”  I told my wife.  She only heard slurred speech.  Another sign of a stroke.  It was obvious to my wife something bad was happening and she called 911, and in a couple minutes the ambulance came.

I remember the ambulance drive, the CT test, and the conversation with the doctor who told me I had a stroke. I remember talking to a neurologist on the phone, and he said that they didn’t think it was that bad and they weren’t recommending treatment to break up the clot since they didn’t know how long ago it happened. Apparently working on the mature clot after 4 hours can cause lots of problems downstream. They didn’t want to see that happen. This was about 2:00 am and I went to bed at 9:00 pm. They told me it was my call but I need to decide right now. I can remember telling them to call my wife. And we decided not to do the treatment. I can remember all of that. And I can remember the E.R. doctor talking on the phone with the neurologist, and then a pause, “hang on a second, something’s going on.”  And then there was darkness, or maybe it was light. I don’t know. A peaceful nothingness. That lasted until I woke up in the morning in the ICU.

So, what was going on? What was he talking about? He was looking at me when he said, “something’s going on.” I’m not sure what he saw, but I read what happened. My right side was completely paralyzed. To say it delicately, I lost all my bodily functions. All this happened as my left carotid artery was becoming completely blocked. And then the doctors took over.

My wife was consulted and since the bad things that might have happened “downstream” were happening anyway, they decided to work on the clot.  The actual procedure started at 5:30 am and ended at 7:30 am. During that time, they tried to remove the clot 3 times using a mechanical thrombectomy device, unfortunately to no avail. And then I was carted off to the ICU.

Peace Appears 

I read about what happened, two years after the fact, on the documentation we had from the hospital. It was sort of surreal to read about what happened that day. I felt like I was reading about someone else. There, somewhere in the middle, was something called a procedure log. As I read through it, this popped out. Six times I read this: Patient comfort: sleeping comfortably. I was peacefully sleeping while all of this was happening. Why do I even mention this, I mean, maybe I was sedated? But something else was happening, something I can’t explain, that sense of peace. 

The next thing that was written was called a Nursing Care Plan. In the first item there was: “anticipated anxiety related to unfamiliar environment and invasive procedure.” They wanted to be ready for my reaction when I woke up, but that didn’t happen either. This journey started in a peaceful sense of nothingness, and it ended in a state of peace.

As I think about it, the peace that happened that day was amazing. It was a gift from God and it lasts to this day. Sometimes I wonder if I am in denial. But I am not. I know full well what happened to me. It is there every day. There is no denying it. But there is also no denying the peace that was given to me. It was there on the good days and the bad days that followed.

The First Time I Introduced Myself

I can remember the first time I went to a support group for people who had a brain injury. I was asked to introduce myself. At that time I was talking very well, and I had never introduced myself to anyone since my stroke. So I said, “My name is Karl”, and after fumbling around a bit with words, I eventually said, “I am trying to rebuild my life.” I’m not sure where it came from. I haven’t really thought about it in those terms. 

It never occurred to me that after 50 years of building things, I would be rebuilding my life. But that is what I am trying to do. Rebuilding those things that were damaged from the stroke. Rebuilding things on the sturdy foundation that I still have.

The Foundation of my Life

When I think about the foundation of my life.  I’m thinking about two things. The people who love me and support me and the values and truths that I built my life on. All of that is still there. My stroke didn’t affect that at all. If anything, it amplified it.

After my stroke, the support was remarkable; hundreds of people were praying, sending cards, meals and money. Experiencing that amount of care blew me away.

Along with the support I had from therapists, and the support I had from a support group, I had my family and my community by my side. I’m so thankful for the people who supported me. They are a big part of my foundation.

The other side of my foundation are the truths and values that I tried to build my life on.  I am a Christian. I grew up in a Christian family. I have a Christian worldview. The words of God which are written in the bible are written in my heart. I realized early on that the truths were still there, although I couldn’t verbalize them, I couldn’t tell you chapter or verse. I couldn’t even remember the words, but the truths were crystal clear.

Maybe the best analogy about the foundation of a house and the foundation of a life, can be found in the bible where Jesus says  “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock.  And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock.”    (Mat 7:24-25)

When I had my stroke, a lot of what was built on that foundation was damaged, but the foundation wasn’t. Because of the foundation I had, my “house” stood. And that foundation is where I’m building something new.      

Tomorrow, the journey begins with the whirlwind year.