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We make mistakes. We suffer the consequences. If all goes well according to the Great Plan, we learn from our mistakes. Sometimes, we make mistakes that are so grand in their import that we hope that others will learn from them. This is the story of one of those times.

In 2001 I was working in Rite Aid Pharmacy as a pharmacy technician. I met my first stroke survivor soon after I'd started. I had never seen one (stroke survivor) before and had no idea, without asking, what was wrong with this man.

He was a young man, in his early forties. He was paralyzed on his right side, with his right arm seized against his chest and his right hand in a perpetual fist.
He could not speak. He walked with a distinct limp, like his right leg wasn't even real.

I learned that he had suffered a stroke six years earlier while sleeping and lay undiscovered for some time. He had suffered a hemorrhagic stroke.

He remained in a coma for six months and, when waking, could not walk or talk or eat. He didn't even know his name.

With therapy he learned to eat again and, eventually, he learned to walk again.

With therapy he learned to use his right hand again. He learned his name again. He could no longer read or write. With years of speech therapy he learned to talk again.

When we met, he could scrawl his name and numbers. He was re-learning the alphabet. He still struggles to recognize letters. He draws them in the air when he cannot name them.

We associate our story with the movie "50 First Dates", except he's the girl and I'm the guy. When he told me he loved me for the first time, I asked him if he knew my name. He didn't.

We enjoyed a rollicking comedy as I learned to understand his language. Things like lights that are open or closed. Or windows that are on or off.

We were married on April 15th, 2005 and I learned to be a caregiver.

I had not seen the inside of a doctor's office in over a decade. And I hadn't had a prescription drug other than antibiotics and painkillers even then. Now I had a husband who required lots of prescriptions, frequent doctor appointments and emergency room visits more than I care to mention. I learned his medical history. I can quickly recite that he is allergic to penicillin and bee stings and cats. I can explain that he had a feeding tube while he was in the coma and how the scar in the back of his head is from where they opened his skull and inserted a shunt to drain the fluid off his brain. I can list every one of the medications he takes, the dose, how

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