How it started: I have been realizing the effects of aging eyes the last few years. With hunting season coming up I decided to find an optometrist and get a new corrective prescription. I was also curious about contact lenses after spending my early fall shooting sessions really struggling while using my old glasses along with other optics like binoculars and rifle scopes.

I found a great optometrist just down the street. The first visit was much like anyone would expect. Dr. Jessica got me a better prescription and sent me out the door with sample contact lenses to try while waiting on new glasses. Note: if you have never tried to place or extract a contact lens from your eyeball, let me tell you that is no easy feat! I heard little kids can figure this out though, and after a stressful week of both successful and failed attempts, plus another visit to Dr. Jessica's office for more lessons, I had contacts figured out.

In the coming weeks I bounced between the old glasses/wrong prescription, the new prescription with the contact lenses, and contact lenses plus or minus reading glasses. Regular daily functions like walking around the shop without running into something, reading calipers, and even seeing the computer monitor or phone screen was a challenge.

All these confounding variables left me wondering why I just couldn't read text on a screen, even after my new glasses arrived. The new prescription was awesome for seeing things at distance and served me well for hunting and looking through a rifle scope, but I didn't think my close-up vision would have been so compromised.

I made a trip to Idaho which like most involved pulling a trailer. The purpose of this trip took me on a different route that was mostly two-lane state highways. It was then that I started noticing weird stuff like cars in oncoming lanes and intersections disappearing at times. I remembered a couple events in recent days when I thought I had been distracted while driving and turned in front of cars coming down my street a little too closely. In true UT-driver fashion they didn't back off the throttle or even yield to a truck and trailer pulling out of a driveway in front of them. Nope, just a surprise car appearing over the hood of a F-350 that I didn't see coming. I had blamed these events on possibly being distracted.

When the new glasses came in, things were no better, but they did give me a chance to go back to bare eyeballs without removing contact lenses to read quickly. This had been my go-to for near-vision for years. I hadn't expected any drastic change with my uncorrected vision. The problem was reading anything on paper or any display. Reading was now hard and confusing.

Another time I was stressed out, searching for some important documents. My wife caught me trying to read papers 3 inches from my nose; this and some other things I said set off some alarms. She told me she was making me an appointment, there would be no arguing, even when the old cowboy in me said "I don't have time." She is the boss and was instantly on the phone with Dr. Jessica's office who immediately found time in a busy day to get me in for an exam.

Dr. Jessica heard my complaints, all the generally strange things noted above, and had the experience and intuition to order a visual field test on one of her diagnostic machines along with a whole array of other tests. Her attitude was "we are going to figure this out, no stone left unturned." The visual field test involves looking into the eyepiece of a diagnostic machine while focusing on a red dot in the center of the field of view, isolating one eye at a time. During the test tiny and faint white lights randomly appear in the field of view and you are to click a button on a pendent switch when you see the white light. Easy enough, right?

My wife, Kim, and I waited in the exam room for results of all the diagnostics and Dr. Jessica's interpretation. Kim knew something was up while we waited. I thought we were just waiting patiently. Dr. Jessica finally joined us and had some concerns. I had failed miserably.

The results from the visual field test print out in a form that can be simplified by a white and black pie graph with white showing where you saw the white lights and black being where you missed them. Mine looked like half of a pie with the left side black in both eyes. Dr. Jessica and my wife Kim (an internal medical specialist on the veterinary side) baffled me with big words I didn't understand and discussed the results of the test and what might cause such results, and I think I saw them both turn about as white as the right half of my test results at the same time.

You see, there are nerve fibers coming off the back of the eyes that come together and track to the occipital cortex, transferring all those signals to your consciousness. They both knew of the list of differentials that might effect that transfer of data but likely hadn't ever seen this other than in text books in their med/vet school days. The fact that it was affecting both eyes at the same time meant my problem was far beyond my eyes. It actually has a name that no one can say, homonymous hemianopia (HH).

The typical cause of HH is a stroke, but here I am walking, talking, and working normally for the last weeks. The next step was a brain MRI. But this was Oct 15, the day before my family came to town for some events with the boys' school and sports. We went home more confused than scared at this point and had a great time with the extended family in town.

I set up an MRI appointment with an outpatient imaging company without waiting on any insurance questions. This appointment was for the 17th (perfect, don't have to tell my mom that I need to go get an MRI while she is visiting but planning to leave that day.) Over the day, the MRI got rescheduled based off the requirements of a brain scan with contrast and the availability of techs/locations in the SLC area. The MRI was at last scheduled for the 21st (also perfect as deer season opened on the 18th).

Utah's deer season opened on October 18th, and my wife, son and I all had tags. We had a bit of a logistics problem with the pets and having an exchange student in our family this year; basically we couldn't figure out how we could all go hunting together. My wife and I decided to just make a day trip and keep it simple. Early Saturday morning, we headed for the mountain and a known trail. We had a great day hunting and saw deer most of the day but just never had a chance to put a plan together on a buck. We hunted pretty hard in rough terrain and totally over did it especially for this dude that had a hard time getting out of the shop for any conditioning the previous year. On Sunday I could barely walk I was so sore. With the MRI scheduled for Tuesday and school and business to get done on Monday, along with the time commitment entailed in putting a deer on the ground, a second try at the deer just didn't make good sense.

On the way back home from the deer hunt, I rode in the passenger seat and realized there was an interesting way to share what I was seeing. When we would pull up behind another vehicle on the freeway I noticed that if I focus on the license plate, every car's left tail light was out. Big red light in the dark is just not there. If I look at the light, it is there clear and bright, but if I look at the center of the vehicle the tail light is gone. Every one. The other place where it shows up is reading text. If I look at a word the left-most letters disappear. If I look at a zip code on a shipping label, same thing, the left-most number is gone. Let me tell you, when you look at your bank account online after a week in the hospital and there is a digit missing, that can mess with your mind.
 

Tuesday the 21st was MRI day. The boys took me to SLC for the appointment and planned a fun day exploring the Capitol instead of waiting as by now we had accepted that I shouldn't be driving in traffic. I walked into the clinic solo and potentially as the healthiest guy ever walking into an outpatient MRI for a brain scan.

The scan was uneventful, at least for the guy laying in the tube. I had an IV catheter for the contrast portion of things. While the nurse removed the IV we had a conversation about what brought me in. She asked, were there any other issues? She seemed a little confused by how I was acting compared to what she likely had just watched for an hour on a computer screen during the scan. I walked out of the clinic the same as I had walked in, only now I had a piece of paper in my left hand (the receipt print out) and a cool pink wrap around my elbow from puling the catheter.

I decided to get a Crown Burger after looking at options on the map and just started walking while the boys were out having fun. My path took me right through some construction areas and a guy walking a mini excavator down a street looked at me like I had just taken some heroin with my fancy arm band and a piece of paper to my name. I wanted to ask him if I could play with the excavator but realized he would doubt my heavy equipment talents. I eventually made it to Crown Burger and had an awesome bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a coke to alleviate the headache I was blaming on giving up Diet Mt. Dew after my wife convinced me I had a stroke. Looking back, that meal was a treat and just what I was looking for after the MRI that could tell me several things I might not want to hear. If you find yourself in SLC, hit up a Crown Burger.

The boys finally came and picked me up and we proceeded home with plans to drop off orders at the post office and UPS on the way back. We eventually arrived and as we were pulling into the driveway I received a call from Dr. Jessica.

Dr. Jessica had just heard from the radiologist that I assume was urged to read my scans ASAP by the MRI tech. A common question seemed to be "This guy is walking around?" Dr. Jessica asked me how I was feeling and told me I needed to go to the emergency room now. I called my wife, rescuing her from Costco. She was soon in the driveway and ready for this trip to the ER without a clue of what to tell them when we got there.

So I walked into the ER with no signs of anything abnormal. We told the reception at the ER that I had just had a brain MRI and was urged to get to the ER. Thankfully they didn't question anything and found some sort of codes to at least get me admitted. I remember mentioning that I may have a brain bleed or something and they obviously took that very seriously.

In the mean time, we received a cell phone photo of a preliminary MRI report that was sent to Dr. Jessica. We were able to pass this on to the ER doctor who also took it very seriously and came up with a plan.

Some of the other differentials on the MRI report pointed to a possible viral infection. The doctor took the appropriate steps to check for that issue. Let me tell you, a CFS tap is not a fun experience. In the short time we had with Dr Nate, the ER doctor, we found that we both like Crown Burger and could probably be best friends if either had the time. I remember shaking his hand as I walked out of the ER after he transferred me to the Neuro Department at another hospital. Just minutes prior to the transfer, he had knelt down to the level I was laying at in the ER and told me that I was likely looking at some form of brain tumor. That is a weird thing to thank a man for telling you, but I really respect him for looking me in the eye and telling me that.

In laymen's terms, the results of my MRI basically said there is something that shouldn't be in there (a mass?), and the majority of the right side of my brain is unhappy, swollen, and pushing my brain off center. That is likely what is affecting my optic tracts and showing up as the vision deficit.

Late Tuesday night we transferred to the neuro floor of the big hospital in Murray, the mothership of our hospital network. As we struggled to get the actual MRI images or even a complete report, we still did not have much to go on or pass to the neurologist besides me standing there looking perfectly normal. The neurologist sent me to the bottom floor for a quick CT scan to make sure I was stable enough to make it through the night and give us time to round up the MRI results and get into the next day's schedule of the neuro surgeon. The first night in the hospital was a rough one, trying to fully process what Dr. Nate had told me just hours earlier. Those rooms are not a good place to get rest, but my mind wasn't up for it anyway.

Wednesday morning, I was able to call the MRI clinic and get them to make a CD of the images that my wife could pick up on her way back to the hospital. The receptionist there actually remembered me and let me pass a big thank you on to the MRI tech that must have seen something and made the call to say something. I am grateful for her taking quick action and following her gut instinct. I can just picture Savanah, the MRI tech, thinking this man has no idea what is possibly going on as I walked out of that clinic, presumably to drive home, and after I had told her I climbed a mountain two days prior.

Come Thursday morning, Oct 23rd, I was first in line for a brain biopsy procedure, relieved that we were making progress toward figuring this out. I was also definitely scared.

The real Dr. House is as cool as a cat and made me feel like I was in good hands. Precise and accurate hands, terms I appreciate fully. While prepping for anesthesia, Dr. Dangerfield (also made me laugh) asked what I would be doing if I wasn't spending the morning with them. I told them a bit about my business and that I basically just cut stuff and drill holes in things too, and that I hoped they were better at it than I am.

Now I have a .118 caliber hole (in the hospital they call that 3mm) right above my right ear and a few brain cells missing. Samples were taken from four regions of my brain and from the tumor they found on MRI with great accuracy. I have some cool staples holding things back together, and it appears the only sponge bath I received was with a mop and some sort of iodine and Mrs. Butterworth's cocktail. My head was covered with this glue, likely with some blood mixed in. Same old' me though, with no new issues. I could talk as soon as the anesthesia wore off and walk as soon as they let me try. I was potentially still the healthiest guy on the neuro floor. Apparently, I don't ask much of the right side of my brain other than being a safe home of my right occipital cortex.

Post-brain biopsy I spent two days in ICU as there are risks of drilling through your skull and taking pieces of your brain out. A post-biopsy CT scan showed some small bleeding so they really wanted to watch me closely. In neuro ICU you get checked on very frequently and remotely monitored by whatever a half dozen cables were connected to on my body. Every two hours I received a neuro exam by the great nursing staff. Other than no chance at rest, the ICU days were fairly uneventful.

On Friday night Oct 24th, I was transferred back to the neuro floor for regular but less frequent exams and some needed rest. We also talked to a PA from the Neuro Oncology Department and learned more about what was going on behind the scenes processing my now missing brain cells. Luckily my super smart wife understands all this and can dumb it down to my level.

I fully appreciate the multitude of smart and dedicated experts figuring this out. It is amazing to learn about the process and what lies ahead for people like me. Amazing stuff! My wife also shared my MRI results with her colleague who is a great veterinary neurosurgeon and got some reassurance that is something we can fix.

Come Saturday, I received one more CT scan to get a final check of any bleeding. I was quickly cleared to get released and was home in time for lunch. We were even able to follow through with some Saturday dinner plans that were made a week prior to all of the above. We enjoyed the company of some great friends that night, one who also knows her way around MRI images and gave us some more encouragement that this isn't going to be anything they can't fix. The other one knows his way around my shop and will be a key player if and when I need any help in the coming era.

I am at peace. I am still scared but know that whatever lies ahead will not be anything my family and I cannot get through. I don't want to be going through this, but I am encouraged by those who have gone through such trials and have shared their stories with me. To ask for or expect any pity right now would just feel like a version of stolen valor. I worked today, 6 days after that MRI and emergency room visit. I am sitting comfortably and seemingly healthy in my own house. The last week's events are nothing I would wish on anyone but I am really feeling like what lies ahead is just another speed bump on the highway of this great life.

I am so grateful for my lovely wife and my impressively maturing son as well as our temporary son living with us as an exchange student this year. They are supportive and brave. To say they "stepped up" is an understatement. My wife Kim has been a rock star and has provided me with 99.5% of my understanding of things on the medical side. She let me lean on her for the CFS tap and talked me through that horrific experience and the others of this week. I highly recommend you to bring your own doctor to these kind of life events. I couldn't have made it through the week in this condition without her love and support, let alone answering all my questions and giving me assurance.

I am also grateful for all of the people at Intermountain Health that played any role in the week's events, from Dr. Jessica to the MRI tech, the ER reception up to the neurosurgeon, everyone was so professional and caring. Watching the young nurses and technicians shine in their jobs really gives me hope that our country isn't nearly as bad as the news would like to make you think. If that is our future, I am OK with that! They were awesome.

Finally, I am a hoarder and a collector. Those that know me well already know that. It shows up in the form of a messy machine shop, a head scratching fleet of heavy equipment, trucks, random tracked vehicles, and rifles. This week I learned that my most impressive collection is my list of friends and my family. I have pages and pages of text messages from my days and sleepless nights in the hospital. I couldn't possibly count or name everyone that helped me get through that week. I have messages from college friends that I have kept in very close contact with for over 30 years now. I have messages from a best friend from grade school. I have messages from people that likely fed me with a bottle and have known me from before I was even born. I am a lucky kid in that regard! With the help of those I love and who love me and with the grace of God, I can get through whatever lies ahead. All is well here.