Pat's Recovery Fund (Pat Pronio)
Donation protected
Dear friends, family, loved ones, and supporters of Pat-
As you may already know, on January 22nd, Pat suffered a sudden hemorrhagic stroke. The day started like any other day—fresh and home-made breakfast made from scratch, a quick check on the latest baseball rumors, and his wife Marianne waving to him good bye as he left for another day at work. Yet he never made it to work. Somewhere, along the way, he suffered a hemorrhagic stroke—the rarest and deadliest kind of stroke—and was instead found unconscious in his car in the parking lot at work. For a healthy 53 year old man, this was very sudden and very unexpected.
At the onset of the stroke the doctors said the survival odds were slim. Most claimed the odds were under 5%! On average, 53% of patients who suffer hemorrhagic strokes don’t even survive the first two days. And that was the average hemorrhagic stroke. Pat’s was most likely more severe.
I saw Pat most recently at Christmas Dinner. As we passed each other in a doorway, he stopped and turned to me and asked how I was doing—really asked, with full caring attention, the way Pat does. This wasn’t a generic “Hi how are you.” I felt that I could be honest, vulnerable about my currently in-flux life. “What should I do?” I asked.
“You know, Cate,” he said, the way he does, “I’ve recently come to the realization that it’s all going to be okay. It’s all going to work out.”
I kept hearing Pat’s words echo in my head as I received updates during the first few tenuous hours after the incident. At first, it seemed so bitterly ironic. Pat had just surrendered to the uncertainties of life, and this was how the universe responded? For a man with as good of a heart as his? It was surreal. It was terrifying.
Hour by hour, day by day, we waited as Pat beat the worst-case-scenario prognoses. We waited as a neurologist, Dr. Reif, stepped in and became his advocate, the one doctor to believe that recovery might be a reality. Hour by hour, day by day, Pat endured. Two and a half weeks in the ICU. Another week and a half in the respiratory floor at the hospital. He continued to fight, with his family never leaving his side, looking over him just as Pat had done for them over the last 25+ years.
But he also began to make movements, suggestions. He seemed to understand what the doctor said. He held Marianne’s hand. He squeezed a nurse’s hand on command. He began to tell us that it’s all going to be okay. Somehow. It’s all going to work out.
Thanks to the intercession of Dr. Reif, Pat has just been admitted to Kessler Rehab in New Jersey, one of the best brain trauma rehabilitation centers in the country, where he has begun his long process of recovery. And so hour by hour, day by day, we return to our lives or to our new normal as best we can, while Pat continues to fight and beat the odds. The man nicknamed Bison has grazed eastwards for his rehab at a facility best known for assisting Superman (Christopher Reeve) during his rehab.
In the meantime, obviously, the expense of the critical care Pat is receiving has begun to pile up. Some of the cost of Pat’s care will be shouldered by his insurance company. Most will not. Disability will help a little, but not much. Marianne, Astin, Kerry, and other friends and family will need a place to stay in New Jersey while they attend to Pat’s recovery. There are so many other expenses we can’t even foresee. I can’t even imagine the emotional, physical, and mental strain this worry must be adding to the family’s trauma.
We’re asking you now to help us in responding to Pat. Help us tell Pat, Marianne, Astin, and Kerry that they are not alone. That, when Pat wakes up from his coma, he will learn that an entire community of people have been worrying, thinking, praying, sending love and positive energy, and—yes—donating on his behalf. So that he and his family can focus on the one thing that truly matters: healing.
Help us tell Pat how much he is loved and respected. For a man who always takes care of others, never putting himself first, maybe we can finally return the favor and take care of him. Tell him it’s all going to be okay. It’s all going to work out.
We love you Pat. Continue to fight like a Mighty Bison.
As you may already know, on January 22nd, Pat suffered a sudden hemorrhagic stroke. The day started like any other day—fresh and home-made breakfast made from scratch, a quick check on the latest baseball rumors, and his wife Marianne waving to him good bye as he left for another day at work. Yet he never made it to work. Somewhere, along the way, he suffered a hemorrhagic stroke—the rarest and deadliest kind of stroke—and was instead found unconscious in his car in the parking lot at work. For a healthy 53 year old man, this was very sudden and very unexpected.
At the onset of the stroke the doctors said the survival odds were slim. Most claimed the odds were under 5%! On average, 53% of patients who suffer hemorrhagic strokes don’t even survive the first two days. And that was the average hemorrhagic stroke. Pat’s was most likely more severe.
I saw Pat most recently at Christmas Dinner. As we passed each other in a doorway, he stopped and turned to me and asked how I was doing—really asked, with full caring attention, the way Pat does. This wasn’t a generic “Hi how are you.” I felt that I could be honest, vulnerable about my currently in-flux life. “What should I do?” I asked.
“You know, Cate,” he said, the way he does, “I’ve recently come to the realization that it’s all going to be okay. It’s all going to work out.”
I kept hearing Pat’s words echo in my head as I received updates during the first few tenuous hours after the incident. At first, it seemed so bitterly ironic. Pat had just surrendered to the uncertainties of life, and this was how the universe responded? For a man with as good of a heart as his? It was surreal. It was terrifying.
Hour by hour, day by day, we waited as Pat beat the worst-case-scenario prognoses. We waited as a neurologist, Dr. Reif, stepped in and became his advocate, the one doctor to believe that recovery might be a reality. Hour by hour, day by day, Pat endured. Two and a half weeks in the ICU. Another week and a half in the respiratory floor at the hospital. He continued to fight, with his family never leaving his side, looking over him just as Pat had done for them over the last 25+ years.
But he also began to make movements, suggestions. He seemed to understand what the doctor said. He held Marianne’s hand. He squeezed a nurse’s hand on command. He began to tell us that it’s all going to be okay. Somehow. It’s all going to work out.
Thanks to the intercession of Dr. Reif, Pat has just been admitted to Kessler Rehab in New Jersey, one of the best brain trauma rehabilitation centers in the country, where he has begun his long process of recovery. And so hour by hour, day by day, we return to our lives or to our new normal as best we can, while Pat continues to fight and beat the odds. The man nicknamed Bison has grazed eastwards for his rehab at a facility best known for assisting Superman (Christopher Reeve) during his rehab.
In the meantime, obviously, the expense of the critical care Pat is receiving has begun to pile up. Some of the cost of Pat’s care will be shouldered by his insurance company. Most will not. Disability will help a little, but not much. Marianne, Astin, Kerry, and other friends and family will need a place to stay in New Jersey while they attend to Pat’s recovery. There are so many other expenses we can’t even foresee. I can’t even imagine the emotional, physical, and mental strain this worry must be adding to the family’s trauma.
We’re asking you now to help us in responding to Pat. Help us tell Pat, Marianne, Astin, and Kerry that they are not alone. That, when Pat wakes up from his coma, he will learn that an entire community of people have been worrying, thinking, praying, sending love and positive energy, and—yes—donating on his behalf. So that he and his family can focus on the one thing that truly matters: healing.
Help us tell Pat how much he is loved and respected. For a man who always takes care of others, never putting himself first, maybe we can finally return the favor and take care of him. Tell him it’s all going to be okay. It’s all going to work out.
We love you Pat. Continue to fight like a Mighty Bison.
Organizer
Catie Crabtree
Organizer
Salt Lake City, UT