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03.16 | theburg | 49 tHe not-so-InvInCIble fatHer by gALeNA CoNrAD Q uarter to 8 the morning of March 3, 2013, while I sleep soundly in the next room, my father complained of a headache. He held his head in his hands for a split second, groaning and complaining of pain before his body would deny him self-control, before constants would become variables. At 8 a.m. on that Sunday morning before church and family brunch, my father suffered a hemorrhage stroke. He was 51 years of age. ere are three different kinds of stroke: hemorrhage, transient ischemic and ischemic. A hemorrhage stroke happens when a blood vessel bursts and bleeds, causing tissue damage. A transient ischemic, or "mini stroke," occurs from a temporary blockage in the brain. An ischemic stroke occurs when a blood vessel that takes blood to the brain becomes blocked, most commonly a blood clot. According to www.cdc.gov/stroke.htm, stroke is the third leading cause of death in the United States. It claims more than 140,000 people die each year from stroke. Forty percent of those deaths occur in males, and 60 percent occur in females. My mother rushed into my room, her cell phone crunched against her ear, fear in her eyes. Still in her pajamas, she pulled me from my bed, tore my blankets away from me and, in a professional, secretary-like tone, she instructed me to flag down the ambulance. "It's okay, I'm sorry. Just go. Daddy is very sick," she said. She then spoke loudly into the phone as she left me. My hands began to shake as my mind drifted away. I tripped down the stairs, my head so full that my thoughts ceased to exist. As I stood on the frost-covered grass of the barn hill, I ground my teeth until my temples pulsed. e sheep bleated at me as I stared down the road, my feet carrying me to my mailbox. e ambulance promptly pulled in, breaking branches as they drove under the trees covering the driveway. After throwing our belongings away from the front door and showing the EMTs the way upstairs, I stood in the kitchen, listening to the clamor in my parent's room. Soon, they came tromping down the stairs: my father looking like a lamb for slaughter, his eyes that of a stranger, my scared mother and the cluster of EMTs. Anyone who knows my father would agree he was always a hard worker. My family would describe him as a workaholic. For as long as I can remember, my father has worked on average eight- to 15-hour days. He owns a repair shop, towing business and car lot, which, until his stroke, he managed on his own, along with a boarding house and the farm where we live. He managed all of this while still caring for his five children, wife and an array of lost souls who seem to gravitate toward his commanding personality. Growing up, working in a feed mill, he learned the value of endless hours of backbreaking work. His garage has always been his escape, full of raggedy friends and broken cars. His hands have been stained with grease since seventh grade. Arguably, from either working around motors or late nights with loud amps around him and chewed up drumsticks in his hands playing in a garage band, his hearing had been damaged. Still, stroke came like a thief in the night. According to www.MDStrokeassociation.org, every year about 795,000 people suffer a stroke, 600,000 for the first time, 185,000 recurrent attacks. Atrial fibrillation, blood disorders such as sickle cell disease and anemia, diabetes, atherosclerosis and heart disease increase the risk of stroke. e most common risk factors for stroke are high blood pressure, high cholesterol and obesity. Blood pressure of 140/90 or higher is the leading risk factor for stroke. When blood pushes too forcefully against the walls of the arteries, it can damage or weaken them. Just two weeks before the stroke, my father began taking high blood pressure medication. He was nearly crushed under a car that slipped off the jack, creating muscle strain. He began to display irrational anger, and his temper became unpredictable. He had been complaining for some time of blurred vision and frequent headaches. At the time, we did not recognize these as stroke warnings. Galena Conrad is a junior at CASA. To read her complete essay, visit www.theburgnews.com. "tHe rooM": so bad, It's Good by MAggIe eStrADA M aybe it's empty because we're early. Or maybe "e Room" really lives up to the critics' harsh reviews. I fidget. An overdressed man in a tuxedo turns the corner. It's entirely obvious that the long, curly, black wig he wears under a large top hat is not his real hair. He lingers around the theater door. Now, there's a whopping four people here to see this movie. We wait. One by one, more people join us in silence and wait for the ushers to let us in. Some girls wear red dresses, and guys wear the same tux as the first, minus the wig. I feel less like a fish out of water as the last group arrives. ey wear normal clothes, except the last guy, who removes his leather jacket to reveal a red T-shirt. Speech bubbles with random exclamations and quotes cover the front. Wow, people really are into this movie. "e Room" follows main characters Johnny, Lisa, Mark and Denny in a 99-minute storm of affairs, betrayal, accusations and trips around San Francisco. e film is written and directed by its star, Tommy Wiseau. e dialogue makes me cringe. ey speak with such melodrama, I can't help but laugh. e scenes get more unrealistic every minute. Lisa, the lead female, has a conversation with her mother, Claudette. Claudette claims she was tested and diagnosed with breast cancer, and Lisa brushes it off completely, weaving an elaborate (but idiotic) lie about her supposedly abusive fiancé, Johnny. She cheats with Johnny's best friend, Mark. Denny shows up and somehow almost gets murdered by a drug lord, and they all yell and cry and play football in tuxedos. A lot. e end leaves so many unanswered questions. "e Room" lacks structure, character development and overall purpose. But I love every bit of it. When it first premiered in 2003, "e Room" received a wave of negative reviews. Critics tore apart every aspect of the movie. ey criticized the camera quality, the set, the over-dramatic acting and the continuity errors. It's rated a 3 to 3.5 out of 10. e people who kept it from a 0 are the people like me, who say, "It's so bad, it's good." "e Room," like "e Rocky Horror Picture Show," has attained cult status. e Rolling Stone article, "e 25 Best Cult Movies of All Time" (where "e Room" places 21st), says a movie can be a cult film once it has developed a "fiercely devoted audience that watches it over and over, preferably at midnight in a theater packed with other die-hards." Cult films attract all kinds of people. Kristen Bell, an actress, admitted she loves the film. Some people like to dress up, some stick to callbacks, yelling at the screen at certain parts. I'm the first to leave the theater. I watch the crowd exit as I wait for my siblings. Everyone's attire makes sense now. e girls in the red dresses resemble the character, Lisa; the guys in suits dress for the wedding scene. e curly wig? e main character. e guy with the red shirt covered in speech bubbles wore some of the best quotes from the movie. e movie shows more than enough establishing shots of San Francisco, prompting someone in the audience to yell, "Meanwhile, in San Francisco!" ey joined in yelling the most operatic line, "You are tearing me apart, Lisa!" Later, Mark describes the room, but the room doesn't fit his description at all. Everyone yells at the screen. "e candles…" "What candles?" "e music…" "What music?" "e sexy dress…" "What sexy dress?" Everyone becomes the biggest fan and the biggest critic at the same time. Maggie Estrada is a sophomore at CASA. To read her complete essay, visit www.theburgnews.com.

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