Sunday Stroke Survival: Just Try Not to Grimce or Laugh- Just Try

Today is another story of living post stroke. Fair warning- just try not to grimace or laugh while reading this post. Bet you can't.

The set up- I was sound asleep, curled up under my quilt against the chilled air in the house as the wood stove exhausted the last burning embers of wood left to burn while I slept. It was the wee hours of the morning. My night medication was wearing down, but still enough was in my system to allow for a few more hours of restful sleep before the painful spasticity kicked in and time to take more. Mel often wonders why I don't go back to sleep when I wake up in the wee hours. Sometimes I do, but other times it's just impossible. Sometimes, it doesn't pay to be a Murphy.

The story-

A twinge of pain in the calf region of my left (functioning) leg. Somewhere in the recessed of my mind it registers that a Charlie Horse is beginning. I try moving the leg into another position to no avail. In the dark, I don my sock and reach for my AFO knowing that I'd have to walk it out. The first month of a new shoe purchase, it's easier to leave the AFO in the shoe rather than trying to put the shoe on after donning the AFO. Then, I work on putting the sock and shoe on the left foot. Always a joy to do without making the cramp worse. Some time while fastening the third or fourth strap on my AFO another realization filtered through the drug induced hazed mind...I have to pee! Rushing to do something while drugged is never a good idea, but still I try.

Logan

When I stood up, the degree of the amount of drugs I'd taken caused a swaying, faulting step. Oh boy, this is going to be fun was my next thought as I regained some balance and continued to the door. In the dim light of the hallway, dark mounds on the carpet announced that Logan, the cat, had left me presents while I slept. I lifted my leg to step over them. I now had one paramount mission. I have to make it to the toilet. As I placed my AFO clad foot in a safe spot, I over compensated for my balance.BOOM! I hit the floor. As I struggled to my feet, my bladder released soaking my underwear and pajama bottoms. I should have worn a pad to bed, I chastised myself. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it?

Now I don't know about you, but when I fall backwards, my head always rests on the floor for a few seconds before I get up. This time was no exception. As I sat on the commode, I'm still rubbing my calf fending off the Charlie Horse that threatens to cramp down on my calf. It's a little better now that I had put my weight through the leg, fallen, gotten back up, and walked to the bathroom. I was thanking God that I again averted a full fledged Charlie Horse. I ran my hand through my hair. It met with a horrible feeling courtesy of Logan. So much for the possibility of returning to bed as if the what had already happened would allow it.

I stripped out of my clothes and got in the shower. I turned on as much hot water as my body could stand. I washed my hair three times to be sure it was clean. Now, rosy skinned and wrapped in a towel, I again donned my socks, AFO, and shoes. I walked into the bedroom. I pulled off the AFO and shoes, and got dressed. Not in fresh pajamas, but in work clothes. The roosters were already crowing a full hour before sunrise.

I raked through the night's ashes in the wood stove and pulled the ash pan. I carried it outside and dumped it. I had plenty of wood ash for the chicken's dirt bath area and for making lye. Strolling back inside, I replaced the ash pan and set the intricate lacing of paper, twigs, and bark to start the day's fire. I put the three split pieces of firewood on top and flicked my Bic. I was greeted by the warmth of the blaze before I go outside for another load of firewood.

So begins another day on the homestead and living post stroke. On the agenda today, make a half dozen Belgian waffles, half a dozen crepes, a loaf of sourdough bread, sprout another bucket of seed for chicken feed, grind the cleaned, used egg shells to supplement the sprouted chicken feed with calcium for the hens, and groom two rabbits, and finish making the mason jar candles for Christmas. Oh, and in between this fun, there's cooking meals, laying cardboard and spreading straw in the orchard, bring firewood onto the porch again, and tending to the house pets. But that's a normal day's routine around here.

How you start your day is important. Mine has already gotten off to a bad start. Hopefully, it will get better as the day progresses. As tired as I am, I may only get half of my to-do list done today, but...

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Blood Pressure Issues

I know you've heard the saying of too much of anything is bad. I always talk about balance. Too low or slow is bad. Too high or rapid is bad. The same thing is true with your blood pressure. Did you know that high blood pressure is not only from bad habits like too much salt and over eating? My four-month old grandson has high blood pressure too!

The only reason the pediatrician can find for this is a strong family history for this problem. Needless to say, everyone is watching him carefully. High blood pressure is one of the leading risk factors for stroke and heart disease. He also has those things in his genetic mixed soup too which isn't a good thing. The genetic markers of family health issues is one thing I wish I could change about the legacy I passed down to my children and future generations. Like his brother's diabetes at age 4 years old. But we can't change our families.

High blood pressure was one of the risk factors that I gained from birth, but it was only a tendency. My strokes were caused by blood clots breaking free from my damaged heart. Coupled with thinning and hardening of my arteries, also a dual family history trait, didn't help. But I look at this precious infant just discovering the world aroumd him and curse genetics.

So how does my daughter combat the high blood pressure in her son? Well for one, she continues to breast feed him. She is also on a low sodium diet. What she eats affects what she feeds him. She makes all his baby food except cereal too. The only sodium she uses is what is found naturally in food. Now, keep in mind, my daughter has no blood pressure issues, but she is doing all of this for her son.

She comes by this naturally so it is no sacrifice for her. She grew up in a organic, low added sodium household. She is also on a low dose blood pressure medicine which passes through her breast milk to my grandson. It doesn't affect her blood pressure too strongly. She finds the more she exercises, strolling the block with her children, the stronger her body counteracts the medicine. But the result is my grandson's blood pressure is now under control. She is also doing baby type exercises with him, not that he's overweight. He is actually small for his age, but doing more.

When you do everything possible to prevent harming your body, sometimes it's the genetic roll of the dice that affects your future. That's what we are praying doesn't happen for my grandchildren who are exhibiting all these genetic health markers at a younger age. With eight grandchildren, I've got a pretty good mix of genetics and dilution from their father to follow. With diabetes, cancer, stroke, high blood pressure, heart disease, kidney disease, arthritis to name just a few, I'm seeing all of these in a number of them.

So how do you balance the Russian roulette of genetic factors? Try to dilute the gene pool as much as possible through the fathers. Unfortunately this didn't happen for my children or my grandchildren. They ended up with double whammies. The same medical issues on both sides of the families. Poor kids. We don't often think of medical histories when choosing the fathers of our children and maybe we should.

Nothing is impossible.