Sunday Stroke Survival: You're Just Old Fashioned

I received an email last week that called my thinking  "old fashioned." Well, I do say..."agree, disagree, indifferent...no matter" above the comments so I asked for it. My first thought when I read this wasn't anger, but I thought, Oh, thank you! Yes, as a Christian, I'm wired differently.  I also do tend to hold my opinions until I get the whole story. It could have been worse. They simply could have called me  an old fart. Wait a minute. I call myself that all the time here. I tend to keep Louisa May Alcott's words close~ as if it was engraved on my soul.  

 "Good, old-fashioned ways keep hearts sweet, heads sane, hands busy."

Living post stroke,  I tend to simplify my life and don't sweat the small stuff with a this-to-shall-pass attitude for the most part. Stressing only makes the frustration and situation worse. I am what I am. I'm old enough not to have to prove anything to anyone. The fact that I've always thought this way is besides the point.

Credit

I tend to be hard working and soft hearted. That's just me. Even post stroke, not a day goes by when I'm not in the garden or orchard pushing my limited body to the collapsing point. Why? I feel the need to do so. I'm not the type of person who looks at a challenge and says I can't do that any more. After all, who knows what they are really capable of if they don't try?

Millions of people out there want to write a book and never do. Be it nonfiction or  a novel. I've done both.  I haven't written anything new in over six years besides these blog posts. I still get monthly royalty checks for my self published works even after all this time has passed. The point is, I did it. It was hard learning a new skill set, but I wasn't afraid to try.

Living post stroke every day is challenging under normal circumstances. Even getting out of bed in the morning isn't without its problems. Taking on the daily tasks of homesteading is borderline insanity, but they haven't come to take me away to the funny farm yet. Wait, is that an ambulance I hear? Nah, it's just Lil Red, the rooster, crooning to his ladies.  Darn, it sure sounded like an ambulance though. Whew, I was worried for a minute. 

This was my dream and strokes fall into the fiery pit, I'm going to get my dream. I'll admit my choice is not everyone's, but it's mine. Be it an old fashioned ideal or just insanity, I'll own it.

Maybe I am old fashioned in my thinking. I find new uses for items rather than fill the landfills with it. I expect quality workmanship for my bucks. I used to say in writers circles that I had 'made in Japan' stamped on my butt with pride. My mother sewed on a Toyota sewing machine for 40 years before I got it.  I relearned how to spin, after my strokes, on my great grandmother's spinning wheel.  I believe in giving 110% to anything I've committed to. I give more than I'll ever get back. Not that I do it for that reason. I believe all life has a purpose. I dislike this disposable mentality of people these days. If it's broke buy a new one instead of trying to fix it. I believe, as the Bible says, to treat everyone as you would want to be treated and love one another. I believe in quality of life not quantity. If you really want to do something or be something in your life, you don't need a bucket list, you fulfill that desire. Even after my strokes, when my all rights I should have given up my dream of a more self sufficient lifestyle, I didn't and found a way to have it.

Old fashioned? Why, thank you and you betcha! I'll take that compliment even though you didn't mean it as such.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Is Fear Holding You Back?

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned about fear holding me back from having surgery sooner. I also posted this picture with it. The words are actually words to a song. If you listen to a Christian radio station, you might have heard it. Zach Williams, the artist who recorded this song, has a couple of songs which hit home for me. I'll post both the songs that spurned me into action and this one later in this blog.

This song strengthens my resolve to continue waiting for the surgeries that may fix the spasticity and the pain that accompanies it. These three lines of this song reminds me that God is in control.  Theodore Roosevelt said it best when he said, "Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty" even waiting.

But waiting isn't without its own trials. Fear creeps back in. Is this interminable wait because it's the wrong decision? This is the biggest one for me because I'm always questioning my decisions. Yes, you are not the only one thinking this in whatever choice you make. Conquering the effects of pain from the spasticity on my body and on the emotional front is another huge trial. The spasticity in my arm causes my trapezius muscles in both shoulders to strain causing unbelievable headaches, and my spine to contort as I try to find comfort. Which, in turn, causes more muscle aches from poor posture. But the worst, is Mel asking me all the time, "What's wrong? Are you mad at me?" Because my happy, smiling demeanor has changed to a frown or scowl most days because I'm dealing with this pain. I actually look haggard and tired as I go about my daily routine. I find myself doing the bare minimum to get by which is totally out of character for me.

Combating these fears and concerns is exhausting! A small voice keeps reminding me that God is in control and He has not forsaken me. Thus fear is abated for a time, but it returns. Yes, even for me a minister, it does so don't beat yourself up about it. Hey, I'm only human! God understands this through Christ.

In the previous blog, I mentioned my fear of dying as a reason for not coming to a decision sooner. You have to admit that there's not much worse than death. Although, some people say death would be easier than living post stroke. I don't feel that way. Now after years, first with the Fibromyalgia  and in combination with the spasticity, I can honestly see their point. Don't worry. I still don't have a death wish. At what point does your desire to be pain free overrides your chance of death? I reached that point, and then some.

 So what is fear holding you back from doing?

Now as promised above the two songs that spurned me to action and give me the strength. Enjoy. May they touch your soul as they did mine.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Why Can't Jo Read?

You may have seen this is grade school. After a stroke, the ability to read and comprehend what you are reading might be impaired. It is for me. It can get very frustrating at times.

Reading used to be fun. I did it to relax. I did it to educate myself. I did it to be transported to another time or place. Although I dudn't do well in school grade wise in this subject. I loved to read anything I could get my hands on. This was encouraged by my parents and my librarian grandmother. I guess that, in part, is why I became an author. To not only read but create reading material.


Amazingly enough, I can read scholarly text with no impairment. I can enjoy researching and Dean's Stroke Musing because of this ability. It's funny how some abilities are affected by a stroke while others are left intact. In a way, it adds to my frustration. I can decode words to where they make sense to my stroke addled brain, but certain comprehension is lost. I have a memory and dyslexia type impairment when I read now. Reading is no longer fun, but HARD WORK. I often have to read through a passage three or four times to understand what is written. This is why I strictly read nonfiction now. When compounded with any sense of a time crunch, I can't read with any comprehension other than a gist of what was read or skimming where I understand a few key words.

For example, McDonald's recently changed there menu board. The Quarter Pounder with cheese is now a double Quarter Pounder with cheese. I was at the drive-thru,  ordered what I thought was a Quarter Pounder with cheese and another one for my roommate. What I got was a double Quarter Pounder and a regular one. I usually order one meal and two sandwiches. The drink is for me for the ride home. We split the fries between us and Dervish, the cat. Neither of us could finish eating the double Quarter Pounder. My brain skipped over the word "double." What a waste of money and food.

There's no joy or relaxing when reading now. I have to be alert to understand what I'm reading. There is no relaxing because I'm having to concentrate so hard to comprehend. It's hard to be transported to another place and time, when your feet are firmly planted in the here and now. So I read task oriented nonfiction rather than memoirs. Subjects like straw bale gardening and natural sourced dyes for example. I can read them over and over until the comprehension circumnavigates around the black, dead areas of my brain. But, even this is not without its frustration points. It takes time to read books an average of three times for this to happen. I have to really want to know this information to put forth this amount of effort. I have to admit that my library card is not used as much as it once was.

I fair a little bit better with audio books. My phonographic memory is showing signs of returning. At least the comprehension is better than reading words. I lost my kindle reader in my move up to north Georgia. It wasn't a Fire but it would read to me. I'll have to replace it. But even with the kindle, fiction was still a no go. Too many characters occurring too far apart. I just can't hold them in my memory even after six years of working on my recall abilities. Try as I might, I can only recall two out of three items. Characters even in audio are lost in the quagmire in my brain unless brought forward by rewinding to where I last heard or seen them.

Jo can read, but it's selective. My last stroke did a number on my reading comprehension, but I can read. I just choose not to read much and that's very, very sad. Still, I keep at it and try. That's all I can do until the brain learns to reroute my ability or I recover it.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Life's Busy Signal

You know the busy signal sound by heart on the telephone. What is the sound your life makes when you're too busy? I have no idea, but it's making it.

I've been traveling a bit of late. I drove to North Carolina for my yearly trek to the Amish store for non GMO flour, wheat, sugar, and canning jars. I now have finally reached my goal of 1,000+ pint jars. No, not all of them are filled... yet.

I missed my my annual trip home to the Golden Isles. Mel was ill with a stomach bug and there was too much going on here for me to leave. I'll go next month. I'd go more often if I didn't have to get a motel room every trip. It kind of gets expensive. It's like a vacation...the only one I get these days and that's usually only 24-48 hours. The homestead takes up about 50%- 75% of my time. The rest is taken up by doctors, pharmacy and shopping runs, and therapists which means I'm driving away. It seems I'm always on the go when all I want to do is stay home.

My body tells me I'm doing too much, especially living post stroke. My fast, advancing age is a factor too. Physically, the aches and pains start. It takes longer to recover. When younger, aches and pain meant strength and gains, but when you are older, you are doing too much. You are still living and kicking. But what sound does your life make to tell you that you are too busy?

When you have a busy life, you are juggling many balls. I've simplified my life, but am still juggling a whole lot of balls. When I was younger it involved others like family and extended family. Now, it's just me and I'm dropping balls left and right. But there's no audible signal except my hand slapping my forehead. Doh!

I've been actively involved with my stroke support group. I haven't missed a meeting yet this year. I've also taken on refreshments for these meetings. But they are only six times a year so it's no big deal or hardship. I've got a fairly active online presence with my blogs and a couple of forums. Of course, there is my game playing group also. I only have to appear every couple of months. I greatly benefit from both of these in my cognitive relearning. We also have YouTube videos when we get all our equipment working at the same time again.

Now, I'm looking into a woman's group of homesteaders. They meet once a month at the local library. Do I really want to add another iron to the fire? That's the current dilemma. Will it help the business end of our homestead? Will it help us glean information? Will it help us become more self sufficient and sustainable? Will we connect to other like minded individuals? Someone else closer to us than our internet groups? Yes, to all. But it's just another iron in the fire. Another have to do that takes me away with more activities.

What sound does your life make when it's too busy? Shouldn't there be a busy signal? Before you start dropping the balls you are juggling? Before you take on one more project? Maybe the fact that I'm writing about it IS my busy signal. What's your busy signal that you are doing too much in your life?

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Waiting and Patience

I sat here this morning looking at a blank screen thinking of what I wanted to talk about and had nothing to say. I said a prayer for inspiration, as I usually do, and went out to pick bunny greens. The bunnies like them dew covered the best. Coupled with last night's rain, it would be good and wet for them.

I love watching the bunnies eat the long blades of grass. They'll grab one end and chew their way down. Similar to the way we eat long spaghetti noddles or ramen. They are just so cute! I also noticed the does have blown their coats. Coupled with the higher humidity last night and this morning, grooming them today will be a sticky mess.

I had a regular procession going to the picking area. Patches, my guardian cat, was right beside me as always. Herbie, my other guardian, was close by. He'd catch a scent of something and wander off only to return shortly. Little Red, the rooster, and his entourage of hens brought up the rear. They have come to expect the various caterpillars, snails, slugs, and worms whenever I'm in or near the garden. Houdini and Big Red, the other two roosters, and their two hens followed being careful not to get too close to Little Red's hens. He'd chase and fight them unmercifully if they did. But I'm side tracking into random thoughts.

In other words, it was a normal day. My arm wasn't spasming overly much for a change. At least it wasn't painful. My foot on the other hand, refused to straighten enough to even attempt putting on my new AFO. So what did I have to write about today as pertains to strokes, stroke recovery or living post stroke? Then I realized that this all was living post stroke. I'm going through the motions while in waiting mode. Does anyone really like waiting?


Post stroke you spend a lot of time going through the motion waiting. You do you exercises while waiting for recovery. You wait at the doctor's office. You wait while the bag boy at the grocery store puts your bags in the car. Now I'm waiting for the neurosurgeon to lessen my spasticity so I might be able to make positive strides towards recovery again and reduce my pain.

Me, being a proactive type of person, waiting is not something I do well. I joke and say that God allowed my strokes to happen to me to teach me patience. I've come a long way in the past six years, but still I strongly dislike having to wait on others. It's not like waiting for a handicapped person in a parking lot, get into their car and drive away so I can have their spot. Or, waiting while a Boy Scout help a little, old lady cross the road. Hey, I resemble both examples. (grinning) It's the months I'm going to have to wait before the neurosurgeon can even schedule any of the procedures they have to do. At their current pace, I may be able to get the Baclofen pump before the end of the year. Maybe. When you consider it's July 1st, that's a whole lot of waiting. The doctor wasn't in his office for the whole month of June! I guess when you want the best, you have to wait. Speaking of which, I still haven't heard from the Spine Center.

I guess part of it is my fault. I'm the one who waited five years to do this. Part of not doing this was fear of dying from the surgeries. I'll admit it. Fear is a liar! Decisions made after consideration is fine, but fear. Uh, uh. It's wrong and I knew this, but did it anyhow.

Because of my fear, the pain of the progressing spasticity had me up nights for hours on end. My days were filled with more pain that all I could do is grit my teeth and cry, or be zombified on drugs. I wasn't a happy camper. I spent five years already in this type of hell and finally wanted it fixed. So the idea of waiting another year is intolerable.

It has been so bad lately that I even thought about getting Botox again in the interim. But that would set me back another six months. I did call my Emory neurosurgery team, before my last regular neurology visit to check. So no wonder I'm in a catch-22 situation and feeling blue.

Nothing is impossible.

But the wait is killer!