No Two Strokes Are Alike...Now I Know

 I read and research all things "strokes": causes, signs, genetics, prevention, recovery, new discoveries, rehabilitation. On and on. One book that's been particularly helpful is, "Hope After Stroke" by Tsgoyna Tanzman. This gem contains multitudes for both the caregiver and stroke survivor (don't refer to them as "stroke victims...but survivors"). It's actually been a godsend. Every chapter contains pearls of wisdom on communication-- language for dealing with stroke, exercises, case studies, recovery and the reality that all of the daily work needed to build back the brain--however small-- is significant. And most importantly: no two strokes are the same. Yes, the stroke may be one of two types, and yes, they may hit the same regions of the brain...but just as our brains are different, so to are the individual responses to stroke as are recovery rates from stroke. Stroke doesn't discriminate--it can happen to anyone. This journey will be a marathon, not a sprint. 

I arrived at rehab to sit with him and get the day's events from. He asked if I could bring him a box of beads and string so he could practice improving his small motor skills. My husband is nothing if not a perfect student! Then Joseph played an entire game of solitaire as I watched, amazed at the focus and determination-- though still a bit wobbly with hand coordination. He finished, sat back and said, Whew that was hard. I know...I know. But wow, what an amazing thing!

The progress Joseph is making is incredible. I've watched and participated in his recovery journey. His rehab center staff are angels--heroes with dedication and inspiration for him with every milestone he achieves.

Yesterday I had to go to the Big Box membership store...alone. Several deep breaths. I wasn't prepared for for any emotion to surface--I'd just left the rehab facility--all was good. Things are progressing. 

It'd been two weeks since I'd really noticed our dog food dwindling, other staples needing replenishment. In the morning, I squeezed in a visit with a group of quilting friends and they shared hugs and well wishes--I needed this connection because so much of my time has been alone, alone...or beside two Thunder Wolves (Great Pyrenees-- they know there's a need for comfort right now-- they won't leave my side). Texting and phone calls from my besties, support from neighbors--all very kind and so very needed.

The store was incredibly busy-- it was after five. I typically don't shop after two, and usually not alone. Joseph and I would tackle these monster store visits with the attitude of: more steps for the day! I don't know what came over me, but I felt a deep sadness creeping in and tears coming on. Uh-oh. All day I'd managed to keep it together, going so far as to declare to my friends: I've decided today is a no crying day! The store, the crowds, the normal routine of my life felt out of sorts to me. And so I cried. A little pity party alone in the pasta aisle. And then I moved on.