As usual, Julie Ferris-Tillman had a full evening planned after leaving her office.

By day, she’s vice president of a public relations firm in Milwaukee. At night, her world is a stage. She performs in sketch comedy, improv and community theater. On this Wednesday evening when she was 48, she was rehearsing for a murder mystery play opening the next week.

On her way to rehearsal, she stopped at a cafe and grabbed a sandwich and an energy drink. She ate half on the way to the theater and finished it on the drive home.

Several hours later, she woke up from a deep sleep feeling sick to her stomach. She vomited and had diarrhea.

She asked her husband, Andy Tillman, if he thought she had food poisoning. She couldn’t imagine it being anything else.

Unable to go back to sleep, a dull headache became excruciating. It felt like she was being bludgeoned with an axe.

Ferris-Tillman finally fell asleep. When she woke up, she still felt crummy. She didn’t go to work or rehearsal. She didn’t eat anything, fearing that her stomach couldn’t handle it.

On Friday, she started having vision issues, mostly in her left eye. Images would dance and go crisscross. She had to hand over her role in the play. She hoped one more night of sleep would improve everything.

By Saturday, her eyesight was even worse. Her headache persisted and she was weak from not eating. Tillman took her to urgent care.

The doctor gave her anti-nausea medication along with nasal spray for sinus pressure. He said those factors could affect her vision and that she should call if it didn’t improve.

On Sunday, she called the doctor to report that her vision was still bad. He told her to see an ophthalmologist the next day.

She woke up on Monday feeling better than she had in days. She was no longer sick to her stomach and had eaten. Her headache and vision had improved. Still, something wasn’t right.

She followed through on the suggestion to see an eye doctor. Because vision changes can be a symptom of cerebrospinal fluid issues, he wanted her to go to the emergency room.

“Am I going this week?” Ferris-Tillman asked.

“You’re going now,” he said. “I’m calling ahead for you.”

The first thing the ER doctor ordered was a CT scan.

When they wheeled her back to her small exam room in the ER, there were so many doctors and nurses that she quipped, “Oh, am I throwing a party?”

“This is a big deal,” a nurse said.

The doctor turned a screen around and pointed to a dark spot in her brain about the size of a quarter.

“You have a brain bleed,” the doctor said.

“You’re a very lucky girl,” a nurse added. “You really shouldn’t have been able to walk in here.”

Doctors later told her the only causes they could find were uncontrolled blood pressure and stress.

She got medication for high blood pressure and anxiety, which she’d battled for years.

A nurse discussed diet and told Ferris-Tillman no more quad-shot lattes, her go-to order that includes four shots of espresso, though she could still drink coffee.

As doctors warned, Ferris-Tillman had headaches for several months. They gradually dissipated. After undergoing MRIs of her brain every three months, she was cleared in late December 2023, around the one-year mark.

“I’m left with a permanent panic about headaches,” she said. “But the doctor said, ‘You’ll know the difference between a normal headache and something to worry about.'”