Recovery, step by step

OK, enough of this whining and complaining. I’ve had a stroke. It was more serious than I thought. But I’m alive and in possession of most of my faculties. I am incredibly fortunate at this point. My intention is to document for you (and for myself), since my short term memory is virtually GONE, for the time being, just how I go about recovering. I will attempt to share with you what I do, and how I feel internally. Stay with me, if you can. It may be boring at times, and repetitive, but it will be “what happens.”

First, the symptoms I’m left with. The main external symptom is the disruption in my ability to read. I can see the words, but I can’t always comprehend them. In the beginning – a week ago – I could comprehend almost nothing. Today, I can read, but slowly, still stumbling over some words, often the small and easy ones. And after I read awhile, I have to lie down a bit and rest. Tired.

I also have virtually no short-term memory. The MD says it will return…right. I hope so. I can’t remember how a conversation started once it’s finished, and the names of common things escape me for minutes at a time.

I get anxious when I’m in a crowd of people. A “crowd” can be thirty…or six. Depends on the day. I had to leave a Seder meal last night half way through, because suddenly I was overwhelmed. There were twenty people at the long table. Everything was just fine, until…it wasn’t. This afternoon I met three Lodge buddies at Tim Horten's. They hadn’t heard about my “event.” So I sat with them to talk a bit. These are all guys I know well. Suddenly, my armpits are wet, and I’m breathing hard, and feeling cornered. Fortunately I had explained this to them. I just had to excuse myself and leave for awhile. Later, one f them drove me home.

The MD says I can walk, but not fast, no heavy breathing. So I stroll through the trees, or to the mailbox. Today I strolled to Tim’s twice, about twenty minutes each way. No heavy breathing. It’s been so long since I walked (January 16) that I am out of shape, and my legs are sore. Feels good. God knows when I’ll get back in the pool. I miss the bikinis already!

And sleep…what a drag. I go to bed at ten thirty, feeling tired, and then I lay there until twelve thirty, wide awake. At least once in the night I’m up for an hour to read. In the morning, I am a zombie until ten o’clock. This is so not-me!

So there you have it. The whole bag of weirdness. It feels strange, but good, to share this. I know in my head that this is slow work, but I get frustrated with it. And even stranger, I feel guilty about all of it. I feel like I’m letting people down, that I’m laying a burden on Beatrix – she has to drive me everywhere, and she hasn’t the time. But she does it. At times, I’m embarrassed to be me. I’m actually happy to spend so much time at hoe alone. It feels like a cocoon to me. I venture out, but I come back. Only Tim’s is like home. The pool is like that, too, but I can’t walk that far yet. It’s one of my goals. Enough. I’m tired. Talk to you soon.