Facing the Unexpected
Facing the Unexpected: My Onset of Bell’s Palsy
September had finally arrived, and I was looking forward to a long weekend with my fiancé, Sam (yes, fiancé, though we’ve been engaged for years—COVID delays, busy careers, and all that, but that’s another story!), and my son, Logan, who’s 25. We were heading to Destin to meet my dad. The weekend before, I’d been at Louisville’s football home opener, I also managed to get in a 7-mile run at a great pace. I was on track to complete my third half marathon this year! Alongside running and yoga, I’m immersed in a demanding role with an emerging craft spirits brand. Building something new in this industry requires constant creativity, hustle, and resilience. Though I’m passionate about my work, I rarely know what a weekend means, and guilt sometimes hits me when I’m away, even just for a few days. But this was a well-deserved break with my family, as I try to turn off my brain to not look at work emails!
The Start of Something Strange
That Friday morning, I wrapped up last-minute tasks for work and flew to Florida. The first day was wonderful, yet by Saturday morning, I noticed something odd: I’d drooled on the left side of my mouth while sleeping. I brushed it off as a fluke, but by Sunday, it happened again—and this time, I felt a shift. My mouth wasn’t moving normally when I used mouthwash, and even though it wasn’t noticeable to anyone else, I felt something was wrong. Sam and Logan thought I was overthinking, but as we strolled on the beach, my mind raced with worry.
The reality hit when I boarded the plane home. My mouth felt clumsy, and I struggled to drink from a bottle. At Sam’s restaurant afterward, I could barely order, but I pushed through, trying not to alarm anyone. Inside, though, I was panicked.
Unraveling on Monday
By Monday morning, my symptoms had worsened. My left eye wouldn’t close, my face felt paralyzed on the left side, and speaking was becoming a challenge. I was devastated to miss the Bourbon Hall of Fame Dinner I’d anticipated, but I knew I needed medical attention. I didn’t think it was a stroke, but something was clearly wrong. I decided to go to immediate care, hoping they could diagnose what I now suspected: Bell’s palsy.
The visit was surreal. They ran tests, even suggesting an allergic reaction or a possible stroke. Finally, the hardened ER nurse glanced at me and said, “Oh, you have Bell’s; take a seat.” Her calm demeanor eased my nerves a little. The doctor confirmed it: there was no cure, no known cause, and my best-case scenario was to hope for some movement by October. They prescribed steroids for the facial swelling, and I left, feeling overwhelmed but grateful to have answers.
Processing and Retreating
After the diagnosis, I felt both determined and defeated. I followed up with my primary care doctor, but found little solace. The grim outlook they provided only fueled my frustration. I’d researched treatments, hoping for something promising, but their response to my questions was discouraging: “Not enough studies.” It wasn’t the attitude I wanted to adopt. I went home, retreated to my room, and dove deep into every recovery story and treatment option I could find.
Being a high-energy, go-go-go person, this forced stillness was crushing. I managed to stay connected to work through Teams and Zoom, hiding behind the camera, but I didn’t want to leave my house, much less my room. Though I usually run toward every challenge, this one brought me low, forcing me to find a balance I didn’t realize I needed.
Adjusting to a New Reality
Losing control over simple functions was more isolating than I’d expected. I could no longer run, couldn’t close my eye, struggled with speech, and barely slept. Anxiety took over, fueled by the inability to blink or smile without effort. I was desperate for a solution, for anything that could give me my normalcy back. And I knew I couldn’t let Bell’s cripple me. Somehow, I would fight this.
