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Written by Monika.
"My 20’s have been marred by shame and guilt. Not by something that I did do, but something that I could not stop from happening."
In February of 2018; my father, Chester or Czesiek in Polish, had a heart attack for 17 hours. Being a tough Slavic immigrant, he did not want to make a big deal out of his chest discomfort. Although he went to his family doctor and was diagnosed with a stomach ailment, I knew something was awry when I woke in the middle of the night only to find him clenched against the bed.
I immediately took him to the hospital, where they told him he was having a heart attack! Shocked, confused, scared and alone- I told my mom and my brother who came in the later hours of the morning after my father was stented to open the arteries of his heart.
Nurses were hugging my mom; telling her how lucky she was that her husband DID NOT have a stroke. As fate would have it, only 5 days after being discharged from the hospital, my father had a level 20 stroke in our living room.
My mother is screaming my name, MONIKA!!!
I ran from the basement, to find him heaving on the couch. We didn't know what it was. Obviously horrified, we called 911. From there he was in an ambulance, and then back to the hospital. We waited hours to have a specialist perform a mechanical thrombectomy, but the damage was done. My father now suffers from aphasia and right side weakness to this day.
Did I know that my life was forever changed? Did I know how far it would go?
As you can tell by the date, February 2018 was about 2 years before the COVID-19 pandemic, but two years is not a long time to adjust to the fact your father went from "normal" to not. Those first two years were very nerve racking; not knowing what the future would hold, who I was going to become.
Would I let this shatter me or would I grow into a stronger person?
It did not seem like I had a choice at the time for either option. My only option was to keep my head above water. I knew that I had to go to work-which most people do when they graduate post-secondary- I was on a mission from God to prevent any further damage incurred from this cataclysmic turn of events.
I shut down or 'locked in', as the kids say these days. I did not want to think of friends, joy, or fun. When COVID hit, and I was literally locked down, I realized that all of a sudden l made a huge mistake ignoring the whole world to protect myself. It did not fulfill me, it only pushed away the inevitable task of dealing with the emotions I was ignoring. My devastation was not going to hold me back... except that it was.
Post-COVID, realizing community is the social fabric of society, l went out looking for an identity. I found it where grew up: the Polish Church I attended my whole life. Feeling the need to go back to my roots, I realized that's where my support network was the whole time.
I only realized how accepting people are, when I saw how kind people at my church were to families with children with disabilities. With all my courage, I hosted a BBQ for some young members, something | had never done. My guests all LOVED my dad. I was so scared they would not accept him because of his speaking impairment. We surprised him with cake and he was overjoyed.
Through this, I learned that:
"Genuine friendships are willing to endure your sorrows."
Such a cliche but so raw when you have to ask for someone to share your burdens. This BBQ only happened this summer (2025). It took me 7 years to find the courage to share my father's pain with my peers, and I am so glad that I did. Not only did my father feel seen, but my community saw the real me; a version of myself that they could never understand in public.
Although it took me close to a decade to find solace in a community...
I CHOSE HOPE.
"I chose to believe I would eventually find a network who would support me through thick and thin."
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