Story of Jan Michael’s healing from strokes

My name is Jan Michael Looking Wolf and I have a very rare blood condition named Protein Enzyme C (and S) Deficiency. This genetic condition is deadly, and until the early 1980’s it was not detectable.

Protein Enzyme C Deficiency is a thrombotic disorder that can result in most the human body filling up with blood clots. These blood clots, if undetected, will ultimately cause death. The studies have shown that this condition can be created when someone has both Native American and European blood. There have been a small number of cases in Asian people who are of mixed blood as well. The reason for this condition is that Native Americans did not have Protein Enzyme C in the make up of their genes. They simply did not need the enzyme because of the type of food they ate and their required lifestyles.

The Europeans, however, needed Protein Enzyme C to survive because it prevents the blood from over clotting. The people of Europe ate a fatty diet and had a different genetic make up than the Native Americans. So when the two different genetic codes mix together, sometimes a person can be left with out Protein Enzyme C to protect him or her from over blood clotting.

With this condition, it typically does not affect the individual until the second or third decade of life. The reason for this is because when we are younger and typically more active, we do not need as much Protein Enzyme C in our blood. As we get older our metabolisms slow down, causing changes to the enzymes in the body. The following is an actual account of my plight against this disorder.

In November of 1993 it seemed as if I had the whole world in my hands. I had just started a new job, my wife was seven months pregnant with my son, we owned a new Ford Thunderbird and lived in a nice Condo style apartment in Gresham. I was 27 years old and healthy - I had not been to the doctor since I got out of the Army in 1987.

Over the next few months I set sales records at work and made a huge amount of money in the process. My wife and I could not spend the money as fast as it was coming in. On January 25, 1994 our child was born, a healthy ten-pound boy. Right after, I received a promotion at work.

I started working twelve to fifteen hours a day, six or even seven days a week. This meant more money and subsequently more stress.  What seemed so good at first was now a destructive force in my life, but I could not see what it was doing to my family or myself.

"My head hurts!" I yelled to the doctor as he performed his examination.

It had been two weeks since the pain in the right side of my head had started. I went to the hospital several times but they could not find what was wrong. The neurologist told me that he thought it might be psychological. After all, they had performed all the tests and still found nothing wrong with me. Even a CAT Scan was done, taking a picture of my brain and still nothing. So they sent me home. However, the pain was getting worse every day.

It got so bad that I could not think clearly. I had always been against taking drugs for any reason, even Tylenol or Aspirin. The doctor gave me strong painkillers and I was eating them like candy. Still the pain was there, never ending.

I could tell that no one believed me. Even my family was starting to doubt my claims. I called the neurologist and begged him for help, telling how the pain was getting worse. He told me to call during regular office hours and make an appointment.

I looked at my wife and said, "Something is really wrong with me and I’m afraid." I started crying. I was so frustrated that no one would help me.

The next day, March 22, 1994, I woke up to the wonderful smell of breakfast. The first thing I noticed was that the pain had disappeared! I jumped out of bed to tell my wife. I instantly fell to the floor, but stood right back up. My left arm went completely limp, as if it was asleep from lying wrong. But this was different; the feeling was gone too.

I yelled out for help and started panicking. My wife walked me to the couch and sat me down. I then lost all the movement in my leg and went into shock. The ambulance rushed to Portland Adventist Hospital. This was the same hospital I had been trying to get help from. The same doctors were there as I was immediately sent off for another CAT Scan.

This time the picture of my brain showed something horribly wrong. I suffered a huge stroke on the right side of my brain, about the size of a silver dollar. Even though the doctors could see what happened to me, they did not know what caused it.

There were a large number of tests performed to find out what caused the stroke. Every test from A to Z was tried. I was admitted to the neurological ward for further testing and monitoring.

 "HELP!", my wife screamed, as I was seizing out of control.

I had gone into a grand mall seizure that caused my whole body to flop around helplessly. It is typical of stroke victims to have seizures because of swelling of the brain. The swelling is caused from the blood that is released into the brain cavity from a broken vessel.

Six minutes later I was still seizing, causing my heart rate to exceed an amazing 250 beats a minute. Due to the size of the seizure, I was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. My heart stopped for two minutes because of the seizure.

I remember screaming but my lips would not move. Then it got dark and hot, like nothing I had experienced before. During this time I felt a peaceful presence with me. I was no longer afraid of dying, but still fearful of leaving my wife and child. After all, my son was less than two months old.

When I was brought back I shouted, "I don’t want to die!" Within the next fifteen hours I had five more grand mall seizures, each one lasting about six minutes.

I looked up at my wife and whispered, "It is not my time to go, so stop worrying. I’m going to fight this for you and my baby boy."

The neurosurgeon wanted to drill a whole in my head to relieve the pressure from the brain, however, I was too weak from the seizures. The neurologist told my family that he had never seen someone have so many huge seizures and live.

The doctor then called my family together and stated "If you want anyone to see Jan, you better call them now. We do not expect him to make it through the night. Jan’s heart cannot take another seizure and his brain is swelling from the stroke. He has been induced into a coma. I’m sorry, but there is nothing more that we can do."

My wife and father called the whole family to come and pray. My father immediately called different churches in Portland and asked for their prayers. During this time there was a team of doctors working on finding out why this happened to me. However, there was not a diagnosis to be found.

My Uncle was in Grand Ronde, calling everyone he knew and asking for prayers. He sweat lodged and came to the hospital. I remained in a coma during this time. My Uncle came into the room at ICU, bringing an Eagle Feather. He laid the feather down on my bed beside me.

The hematologist saw Uncle and asked if I had any Indian blood. My Uncle told him that I was a Grand Ronde Tribal Member. The doctor immediately called for another blood test. When I came out of the coma, my family was standing around me. It was then that the doctors finally had an answer to my condition.

It was my Uncle, who looks very native, that helped them find the reason for my stroke. The blood test had shown that I was positive for Protein Enzyme C Deficiency. Also, I had made it past the swelling of my brain. It looked like all the prayers had been answered.

I was moved back into the neurological ward for further treatment and monitoring. A form of Heparin, a potent blood thinner, was being applied to treat my condition. Other than being paralyzed on the left side, it looked like I would be all right.

Then I started coughing up a lot of blood. My right leg had swelled up so large that I could not lift it off the bed. They took another picture of my brain and it showed something horrifying. The main blood vessel that runs down the center of my brain was full of blood clots.

The test came back and showed that my body was quickly filling up with blood clots. The clots had hit my lungs and caused bleeding, it was as if I was drowning in my own blood. After an ultrasound was performed, it showed my right leg was also full of blood clots. The leg was so bad, that a large number of the blood vessels were permanently destroyed.

I passed a clot through my heart, almost causing it to stop. I had titanium implant screens surgically placed in my main blood vessels coming from my lower body. This all happened within a short time, it was a nightmare come true. I was dying and could feel it.

The doctor was talking to my father out in the hall. I heard my dad break out in tears, crying out "No God, no!" I asked if I could see the doctor that was heading up the team on my treatment. Before the doctor came in, my father walked in and sat down. He was as white as a ghost and had a forced smile on his face. Then the doctor came into the room.

I said, "Tell me the truth, I have a right to know. Am I going to die?"

Right then my wife arrived; she was at the coast seeing our son. The doctor just looked at me.

I screamed, "This isn’t fair! One day you tell me that everything is o.k. and the next I am going to die. So tell me, am I going to die?"

A tear started rolling down the face of the doctor as he said, "Chances are that you have 24 to72 hours to live. If you make it past that, your chances will get better every day."

The reason for this was because I had so many blood clots, that they had to give me an excessive amount of blood thinner. This was dangerous because my stroke had been so recent. I could bleed to death or stroke again.

Then the doctor turned to my wife and quietly told her to pray, because that was all that was left to do. Once again my family came and prayed for me, along with many people from local churches.

I lay completely still in that hospital bed for the next three days, not knowing from minute to minute if I was going to live or die. A week went by and it looked like I was going to make it. I no longer cared about being paralyzed, I was just grateful to be alive. I started seeing things a lot differently from before.

It had been several weeks since I was admitted to the hospital. I was there so long that I forgot what home was like. My wife and I gave up our apartment and our savings account was quickly disappearing. My son was staying at my mother in laws house in Newport. We thought it would be best for him because of all the uncertainties.

My faithful wife had stayed by my side and slept in a chair during this whole episode. It was made clear by every doctor involved that I was very fortunate to be alive. However, it was also made clear that I would never walk again or use my left side. I would stay paralyzed because the extent of the damage caused by the stroke was too extensive.

There was an unbearable amount of pain in my un-paralyzed leg, caused from the blood clots damaging the tissue and a pulled muscle. I was on morphine and could not move it because of the blood clots. I would only sleep a short time, awaking in extreme pain. After about a week of this I decided that I had enough. I told the nurse that I would take no more morphine or any other drug for pain.

"It is in your hands God!" I yelled.

Two days later the pain went away. My wife and I prayed night and day through this time, mostly just thanking God for getting us through everything. Even the doctors called me the "miracle man". They asked my permission to do a medical journal on my condition. The medical team said that it is rare for someone to survive such a large episode of blood clots and a huge stroke.

Even though I was thankful for being alive, I still did not have complete faith in the Creator. One morning, I started thinking about my son and all the things I would not be able to do with him. I was angry because I was still paralyzed and it looked like I was going to have to live in an assisted care facility. There was no way that my wife could take care of the baby, work a job, and take care of me.

I failed understand why I did not die. I shouted, "I will never walk with my son or teach him how to run and play!"

My wife said, "If you believe in the Lord anything is possible, after all, you are alive aren’t you?"

I replied, "I wish I wasn’t. I will never walk again. The doctors are right!" I started weeping. I was tired. It had been over five weeks that I was in the hospital.

Then my wife jumped up and said, "How dare you, after everything that God has done for you! Where is your faith? I know in my heart that you will walk again. You would not have survived for nothing."

The sun was just starting to rise and the light was coming in through the window behind my bed, shining into the room. Her blue eyes were bright from her tears and reflection of the light. She picked up my paralyzed foot and started rubbing it. "You will walk again." She cried again, while holding my limp foot.

A tear- drop fell of her face and landed on my paralyzed foot. At that exact time my foot started to move - first the toes, then up to the ankle. She ran out to the nurse station and they all hurried back into the room. By that time I could lift my leg up off the bed and bend the knee.

"It’s a miracle!" The nurse shouted. The neurologist performed an examination a short time later. His expression was one of shock as I lifted my left leg off the bed. The doctors could not explain the recovery in my leg. They called it a "fluke" and told me that it could go away.

Another picture was immediately taken of my brain - it still showed a large area of dead tissue from stroke. With help from a physical therapist, I took my first step about a week later.

I looked at my wife and said "Thank you for your faith in God. Thank you for your faith in me."

I underwent weeks of full rehabilitation, and regained a small amount of use of my left side. This included being able to bend my left arm and walk as far as twenty feet with a cane. My left hand was still paralyzed, I had a speech impediment, and memory was partially gone.

The time had finally come, sixty- four days later, to be released from the hospital.

"I am going to walk out of here." I said with a smile on my face. The furthest I'd walked before was about twenty-five feet or so. The exit was at least three hundred feet, but I knew that I could make it.

When I walked through the door the warm sun felt so good on my face and the air smelled wonderful. I fought the biggest battle of my life and won.

"I am alive!" I yelled out. "Thank you!" I said, looking up into the sky. "I’m going home."

It took two years of intense therapy and rehabilitation to recover from the stroke. I worked very hard with outpatient physical therapy every day to get well. I have now recovered almost 100 %.

I now make music and have the privilege of sharing it with others. My son and I are very close; we have a bond that I can’t explain. He understands the importance of being grateful for every day and respecting the gift of life.

I do not know why I am healed while others are not, I guess it is the grace and mercy of the Creator. I do know that it is important to be thankful for my life. There are so many things that our modern culture takes for granted. Also, I learned that the true riches in life cannot be bought; things like our health, family, and time, are gifts to be cherished. Time is something that once lost, it cannot be relived.

Every morning, I kneel to the east and thank our Creator for another day. Grandpa Sun rises up and blesses us all again and again, following his instructions. I hope that my story helps you in some way. Thank you for taking the time to read it.