Sunday Stroke Survival: Aging and Moving Post Stroke

 It's official I've gained another week because my daughter's work scheduled changed, but on the 30th of May, I'll start a new chapter in my life in Savannah. The truck is reserved and the countdown begins. 

How many chances do you get to start new chapters in your life? Every time I think I'm on the final chapter, I turn the page and surprise, there's more to the saga! I've never lived with one of my children before. I mean me moving into their house. It's always been the other way around. It seems strange but somehow right. It's what I taught my children their whole life, family takes care of family. This is going to be a major learning curve for all of us (even if it's short term). It's no longer Momma's house, Momma's rules.

The prospects are exciting and terrifying at the same time especially living post stroke. Or, maybe, it's just that I'm getting older and rattling against another new adventure.  But everyone believes this move is for the best.

For now I've started separating kitchen lob-lollies, I've been through the pantry and food stores to split everything, and am packing away winter clothing for the move. I'll probably continue packing my clothes keeping only a couple outfits out as moving day get closer. Not that I have that many clothes. I recently bought two pairs of jeans to replace two that weren't decent enough to wear anymore. They were size 18W (I now wear a size 14) is besides the fact. They were ripped, stained and holey. They weren't even usable for quilting. Now, that's bad! I need to replace my tube socks. They are threadbare in spots, getting holey, and the elastic band is shot, but I'll wait for this purchase. So I'm attempting to pack myself. It's harder than it was six years ago. I'm thinking age has a lot to do with it.

As I fill a box (18" square), I move it to a staging area between the sofa and the bookcase in the living room. They aren't heavy because I'm still under a 25lb weight lifting restriction. I find they are easier to lift if I pack them on the bed and pick them up to carry from that height. Having an AFO and the same shoes is a definite plus! (HURRAY!!!) I'm not killing myself in packing. I'm averaging two boxes a day. As far as marking them goes, a Sharpie has become my best friend. A single capital  letter adorns the boxes; B= bedroom, K= kitchen, X=bathroom, C=Craft/sewing, and S= Storage. The majority of boxes are bedroom because they are clothes, bedding, and such. Ten boxes and a back pack in total so far. 

One box is devoted to Lil Bit. When we went to town for my foot doctor appointment, I had Mel stop by the Dollar General for her new feeding dishes, cat food, litter, and litter box. Everything fit in the box perfectly. I also put Patches' remembrance paw print disk the vet made in it. I marked the box with a "B" because she'll have the entire setup in my bedroom until she gets around to making friends with my daughter's puppy. That reminds me to ask daughter #3 if she still has a baby gate for my bedroom door. It will allow the animals to sniff one another at will. Lil Bit's preferred method of making friends with new critters. From there, she'll train the puppy to be polite as only cat claws or rapid slaps can do. Dogs usually learn to respect cats within one or two contacts unless they are totally stupid.

So slowly, but surely it's all coming together. Next, I'll tackle the stuff in the barn. Now, that will be the real challenge! I'll definitely wait until this storm front passes before I start.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Post Stroke and Techology

No, this post is not about changing technology in prevention nor treatments for dealing with post stroke issues. But that would be a good post also. It's about my post stroke brain function after my strokes. You know how I always say, "Don't compare what you could do (prestroke) to your reality now? I'm gonna break that rule to make a point. I really missed by old brain at times like this. Before I killed bazillion brain cells with my strokes.

Prior to my first stroke in 2012, I was a very mechanical and technology minded individual. Learning how to use the newest version of a program was never an issue. I'd run circles around any computer program or device within fifteen minutes of loading it. I'd have a basic working knowledge. And then, I'd read the manual to find more bells and whistles that I didn't find in "playing" with it. I'd make programs sing and stretch the boundaries of its limits to make it do what I wanted it to do including changing the programming. Yes, I was a computer programmer once upon a time.

All of that came to a screeching halt with my first stroke. This is one area with adapting and changes, I've had real

trouble with. It's all due to the killed off brain cells and cognitive function of my brain with aphasia. Something gets lost between knowledge, understanding and function. Now I despise newer versions, or total format changes where I have to start from scratch to know how to operate these systems and devices. Most times, I now have to ask for help just to do the basic things. It's maddening, irritating, frustrating, and it hurts what little pride I have left.

First, Pogo.com was bought by EA Games. EA Games deleted a bunch of games which I used for cognitive recovery and reinforcement citing changes in technology made these games were being either reworked (new programming) and ultra High Definition technologies or they were gone forever. My husband and I used the yearly membership dues as part of our wedding anniversary present to each other for also 16 years. Since his death, I continued with the membership because of the cognitive therapy. Well, my membership is due for renewal next week and I've decided to stop it. All the new bells and whistles are too distracting when I'm trying to focus. They can keep the ultra high definition and new programming.

Now Blogger is changing formats again. They've added several bells and whistles over the years but not a total

revamp. Even with the changes, you had an option to go to the "Classic" blogger set up. Recently, they release the "New and Improved" Blogger. The difference is its a convert or leave and there is a deadline.  So now, I've switched over. I honestly dislike the new format. While it has cleaner lines and less junky looking, there are so many hoops to jump through simply adding a picture. You know me and pictures. It's a gotta have it thing. I guess in the long run it will get easier. The idea of learning a new blogging software, but that would be just as maddening. I've been with Blogger since the 1990s.

I use labels to catalog my blogs for SEO. I used to be able to type it and the categories (100+ in here) I've used in the past would scroll down so I could just click on the appropriate category. Now, there is a check box. I have to scroll up and down the list and check the word. This takes a lot of time. You just can't type the word either. It doesn't show up under labels. You have to add a label, scroll down and find it, and check it to add it to my saved labels. The scheduler is about the same. Now, I used to open up the "preview" option which opened up in a new screen. This allowed me two screens to edit my post with. It now longer allows this. I'm having to switch screens, previous page arrow twice before I can edit. Oh, I have to switch it back to draft mode when I edit. It gets very confusing to know where I am and remember what and where the edit needs to be. This new Blogger is not old, brain damaged folks friendly.

Everything I used to know where it was and how to do things has moved or changed so I have to stop and figure out how to do it. Or, it has been deleted from the program. The only thing that hasn't changed is my blog looks the same. The CSS hasn't changed, but I have no access to the hmtl anymore. Some if I want to do a special format for a section, I can't. Or, maybe they are not using html based program at all. I dunno.

Thanks for reading my rant on living post stroke rant. Have any suggestions?

Nothing is impossible.

It just seems that way sometimes.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Feeling Guilty?

Have you been feeling guilty as you are living post stroke? Have you not performed your rehab exercises, or even quit doing them? Have you changed your goals to take it easier on yourself? Have you lost all hope of ever recovering and just getting by and settling?? Insert anything you are feeling guilty about here?

My first question to you is why are you beating yourself up? You are being your own worse enemy.

My statement follows this is why beat yourself up when I can be the bully here. Pretty please, let me be the bully. I know you can't see me but I'm wearing my wicked, evil grin. MUHAHAHA!Although being wicked would be more fun for me. Why won't anyone let me mean and wicked? Oh, alright. Be that way. I'll just throw facts and logical arguments at you then. 

 Only you can make you a failure and fail. Only you can give up and quit trying. Everyone around you won't care about it as much or have as much to lose as you do if you quit trying.  Everyone around you will either take the view of a) this her standard m.o., or b) "Poor thing she gave it her/his best. Such a shame too. She/He had such potential before this happened."

1. Nobody will kick themselves harder than you. As I said, YOU are your own worse enemy.
2. You can't buy or bargain your way out of feeling guilty. No matter what bargain you make or how much you buy won't stop the guilty feelings.
3. You can't change others if they don't want to change. By the same token, only you can change you.

All that being said, how do you stop feeling guilty?

1. First you analyze why you feel guilty.
2. Be bluntly honest with yourself.
3. Fix it! Then stop the guilt trip.

Have you lost all hope of recovering? Are you tired of of doing the same thing and seeing no results, or like me, losing ground and sliding backwards with no brake pedal in sight? I'm writing this as much for you as much as for me so you can see how I hash these thoughts out. 

I've been working towards recovery for almost seven years now. I've actually backslid to the point where my balance is so bad I'm thinking of getting a quad cane.I'm falling or almost falling at least once a week if not daily. I've lost the range of motion in my affected arm and shoulder after recovering all but my wrist and three fingers. The last year of searching for alternative treatments are unresolved and I'm taking even more medication than ever before. My proactive side has taken quite a beating. It has been whittled down to nothing.

Why not stop and give up? Admit defeat. Haven't I given it my all with nothing to show for it? Aren't I justified in feeling like this? What do I have to feel guilty about? But, I do. See, I'm not any different than you.

BUT  There's that word again!

Doubt is a two sided coin as is guilt. You can go around and around between the two sides. That's the neat thing about changes you want to make in your life. You can always change your mind and try the other side. Barb Polan recently felt like a quitter and thought she was settling instead of her being her proactive self. It took others, stroke survivors, to show her she was neither. If there's one thing I've learned over the half century alive is that life changes constantly. Often, it's in the blink of an eye. You either roll with the punches, or they'll flatten you as they steam roll over you. YOU make the choice.

I guess I got my answer. How about you?

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Dealing with Change

I've spent several blogs talking about adjusting to change recently. This is yet another one. I'm not sure why. Maybe, because I'm facing new changes (or soon will be) in my life again. This one by choice for my quality of life.

Has your world changed forever with one event? Living post stroke is like that (enter whatever life changing event that you are facing here).

Everyone resists change. Nobody likes change of their status quo. These are facts of life and yet we have to change. It's part of the cycle of life. We don't grow without change. We don't achieve anything without it. It's an upheaval of the norm and the norm equals comfort.

Some changes are good like getting an education, graduating, getting married, having children, getting your dream job, and other momentous occasions. Doors are opening to a new, exciting life. Other changes like divorce, deaths, losing your livelihood, or serious illness aren't so exciting of a prospect. Doors are closing and you have no choice but to adapt and change. The old ways are gone and you have to travel in a new unfamiliar path. These are the changes no one likes.

Let's face it. These types of changes are scary. The path is dark, gloomy, and there is no discernible light at the end of the tunnel. Having a stroke, dealing with the death of a loved one, or losing one's livelihood is like that. I know because I've experienced all of these in the past decade. Having a plan in place helps, but within these plans there are a microcosm of changes that happen, or things don't go as planned. Uncertainty, rattles you to the core. It's a very uncomfortable situation to be in.

"The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new."
  ~ Socrates

So when I was facing a life of living post stroke, it took a short while to accept that this is what it is. I divided my time evenly between regain use through recovery and trying to do with disabilities or limitations. I strongly dislike would of/should of/ could of scenarios. I like a set of actions and variables if this/then that or that because rarely does anything go as planned, but after a stroke all bets are off. I've rebuilt my life on my new reality several times in my life. It's never fun. It's been a "Well I can't do that anymore. What do I want to be when I grow up this time?" It's my sort of fall back and punt position when life changes for me.

A short story to illustrate my point. I often feel like the poor rat in this story, but I don't die. I'm left with having to make changes to my reality.

Last evening, there was a small rat was caught by the nonpoisonous snake living under our washer the washer and dryer. He probably crawled in there a lot smaller and grew up. Now he's basically trapped under there unless we move everything and let him out. He's had a steady diet of wayward rats for over a year now. He's quite content living this way. He stays warm and fairly well fed between the rats in the disused furnace and the water heater closet.

But this night was different. The rat got away. He ran from the snake squeaking loud which alerted Herbie, the dog, our small rodent catcher. The rat raced from under the dryer straight into Herbie's jaws. A quick couple of chomps and the rat was dead.

Are you too deep in your situation that you go from bad to worse like this poor rat? For a few days after my stroke I was. It was just shell shock. I clawed my way out of it and started planning my life from here on out. I realized there would be major changes that had to be made. In a way, a certain loss of identity needed to be compensated for. But the areas that I cared strongly for was still in tact. I was still the loving wife of a dying spouse. I was still a mother to my grown children even though for a short time (6 months) I was dependent on them while I got my bearing in my new life. I was still the loving Grandma! That didn't change even though my hugs were one sided. They were just as full of love. Even though my aphasia wouldn't let me say the words, I could still listen to them. None of that changed with my stroke and I was fine. Everything else required work to regain it or change in directions.

An example. Spinning fiber into yarn and using the yarn to make various things has been a winter pastime for me for decades. I wanted it back. I spent many a frustrating hour attempting to do it one-handed. Eventually, two years later, I regained the ability. Some old way things are worth the effort. It's not easy as doing it two-handed and a lot slower and deliberate. It's not the mindless, relaxing activity as the old ways. Now, I have to have the right mind set, plan my actions, and focus to spin. But then, I realize I'm just going through the stages as I did when I first learned to spin. I'm hoping one day that spinning one-handed will be relaxing and mindless activity again. Until then, I'm content. A lot can be said for contentment when dealing with change.

In cooking, another love to do activity, I can pretty much do what I did before with the help of gadgets. It still irks me a bit to have to depend on them, but I'm getting the job done. After six years of fumbling attempts, I can do the basics now without conscious thought. I still can't frost a cake or do the intricate detail work as I once did, but when dealing with life altering changes beggars can't be choosers. I still prepare two meals a day here every day. I even can and preserve our food for a year.

This is my new T-shirt. Like it?

Life is never stagnant. It is constantly evolving whether we like it or not. It's time to put on our big girl panties and deal with it.

What was the old way becomes the new way until it becomes old again.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Coming of Age-a Response to Barb Polan

Yes, I pulled it from your blog Barb!

I just read Barb Polan's blog about Coming of Age. It's a very well written, insightful blog post. I encourage y'all to read it. Post strokee or not. This is much longer than my comment to her. It's of a cord that I've often written about here. I'm thrilled I'm not the only one that sees my life post stroke this way.

I've often said when describing my life as the "new normal" which Barb calls bulls**t and cliche. But what else do you call it? It's accurately describes my life now. It's nowhere near what it was before. Adjusting to life after a stroke is hard. It's one of the most difficult things I've ever had to deal with and I've dealt with a lot and been here several times before. To use another cliche, it is what it is and I'm starting over again.

Which leads me to the another phrase I use quite often here, "What do I want to be when I grow up this time?" As I've said, I've been here many times before when life changing events happen.

Just out of college for the first time, I was a registered nurse with a Bachelors degree. I had always planned to be a medical doctor since I was eight or nine years old. Getting married, because I was "in love," straight after  high school graduation. Soon after children followed. I still wanted to be a doctor. But that was an impossible dream at that time in my life. So I had a plan. I step up to being a doctor gaining experience as I went nurse, nurse practitioner, physician's assistant, to medical doctor. This way I could earn a living too while I learned and took each step. No nurse would ever treat me the way we treated wet behind the ears, newly graduated doctors. I'd had been in the trenches and worked my way up.

Things change

An opportunity came up at work. They wanted to be a level 1 spinal trauma hospital. For this, they needed a life flight to ferry patients to them. All they required the applicants to have was a Bachelors degree in nursing, three years in Emergency medicine, and a paramedic license. They were so much of a pinch to find applicants that they threw in a bonus...fifteen years to retire with full pension at 65. I jumped at it. It was only a small detour of my life plan plus I'd gain even more experience. The only thing I lacked was a paramedic license. At the time, an RN just had to take an EMT (emergency medical technician) course and they could challenge the paramedic licensing boards. I did and the rest was history, sort of.

My #2 daughter was afflicted with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. Not much was published outside of medical journals about the subject. I wrote an article for my local support group newsletter. A mother's point of view thing. It was picked up by a nationally syndicated magazine. Then, I was approached by a publishing company, could I expand the article into a book. Oh, yes, I could! The book was published. I ended up giving the royalties to the Arthritis Foundation and eventually giving them the copyright. I didn't need the money and it was better spent with them. It wasn't my dream to be a writer or published author. But soon, publishers were asking for books on various subjects and I complied.  I still didn't dream of being a published author even though I was earning royalty checks. It was just something I could do in my spare time. The rest is history, sort of.

Things change 

 A call gone bad. I was shot and the helicopter crashed. My injuries were life altering. I had a badly damaged spine and a hip replacement at 26 years old. I had just had my 4th daughter a couple months before and I was facing never being able to walk again. I was six months in a wheelchair proving the doctors wrong. I loved it. I was another three years going from two arm canes, to standard cane, to none. I went back to nursing part time. But I developed arthritis in my spine. I had a choice. Keep working in nursing or find a new career. I was again recreating who I was when I grew up.

But being one to take the bull by the horns, I went back to college to learn a career that didn't require me standing. I chose education first because I could get my degree faster because I already had a Bachelors degree. It would take me six months. To hedge my bet, I also took computer programming courses and business courses. The dream of being a doctor faded as real life pressed in.

I still continued to write nonfiction and collaborations. I was passing time until a money making career developed. It was also a needed source of income. My "in love" status changed while in college. I realized my husband of 16 years was a louse. I knew that in the back recesses of my mind, but came to face reality when he said he refused to be married to a cripple. There were other factors too but my marriage ended.


 Things Change
 
My life dream died. By this time, I remarried my beloved, continues through to the Masters program in business and marketing. I was still searching for a career. The business careers were pretty lucrative. So I settled. I was still writing. My husband suggested I write about my younger life because everyone thought it was interesting. The hitch was that I had to write it as fiction. I still didn't think of myself as an author even though there were twenty books out there with my name on it. It was something I found challenging and an escape from the stresses of life. Then, I couldn't find an agent or publisher to publish my manuscript. It got put on the sidelines but I had caught the bug. Soon four manuscripts formed and the beginnings of a fifth. I became a hybrid author. Self publishing my fiction and traditionally publishing my nonfiction. I was recreating myself.

Another opportunity raised its head with the church. They needed lay pastors to help other pastors as well as my own in the southern district. Being faith filled, I knew a calling when I heard it. I did that for a couple of years and loved it. So I was back in college again. This time, it was a PhD I was after. I fought the Lord long and hard over this one. I hemmed hawed around on my dissertation. Drug my feet in defending it. And, reluctantly graduated.  It was another two years arguing with God before my ordination.

The things I enjoyed doing would never amount to enough money to live off of. In writing I got a paycheck every six months besides advances. Even as a hybrid author pay days were every three months. As a chef or chef instructor, the opportunity was met by serious competition that was younger and cheaper. As a lay pastor, it was mostly free of charge or a love offering. As a pastor who couldn't relocate, I was destined to be a traveling, fill-in pastor for $50 a service. I was actually doing pretty well doing all three together. I was earning money, but wouldn't get rich in it.

My true money earning career was as an international business and marketing consultant. That I didn't exactly hate, but the traveling became a problem. It was a living at a minimum of $65 a hour. Not that I wanted to be rich. I'd been there, done that, and paid heavily for it. I was recreating myself again.

Things change

My beloved illness status changed to terminal. Truth be told he was terminal after the first year of his illness after two heart attacks and a stroke. The next year we found the rare form of cancer that was causing it all. I sold my company to my partners. After ten years, I had grown my company from a home business to having three partners and staff. My buyout was a cool million that all went to help keeping my beloved alive.

I fell back into my loved to do things like ministry, writing, and teaching culinary arts. It was something I could do to bring in the extra money we needed with mounting medical bills and still mostly be home with him. I was recreating myself into what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Things change

I had a stroke. Being an overachiever, not one but two. My ischemic stroke escalated into a hemorrhagic stroke within a matter of days. I went from weakness to aphasic paralysis. I began fighting my way back. After the first stroke I began writing a book on a humorous take on stroke recovery.  Preliminary chapters were sent to publishers and a bidding war for the full nonfiction began.  In the midst of the war, I had another stroke. This one took my writing ability. Fighting my way back was nothing new for me. Been here, done that. I was recreating who I am yet again.



Things change

My beloved finally died after beating all the doctors' predictions of "any time now" by ten years. I had been in the role of caregiver for more years than I cared to remember from my mother to my husband and several other family member in between. I vowed that I wouldn't do it again. It was time for me. So what exactly was I suppose to be now when I grew up with a totally dysfunctional body and brain?

During the last twenty years of my husband's life, we had a mutual dream...to live an organic, self sustainable lifestyle. This life dream didn't depend on the world, but on us.We took baby steps towards our dream while living in the suburbs. We grew about 50% of our own food, researched alternative methods of power like solar energy, and ways to preserve food. We even took it a step further by buying a twenty-acre tract of land off the beaten path. We called the place Murphey's Madness Compound because we included our children and their families in our plans.

Things change

Living post stroke, our dream clashed with reality. My children all moved away to distant parts of the globe and were living their dreams or at least making a living. I could no longer do what we dreamed of physically or financially. I found myself chucking my life dream once again to move into an assisted living facility or senior living type dwelling. I refused but could not see an out of my situation. Mel to the rescue. Now the rest is history until things change again.

Life is about changing and adapting to those changes. You'll eventually find your path through the changes. It may not be the way you dreamed it would be, but just as satisfying. You might even go in a full circle, like you did, Barb, to get where you needed to be. God is good, all the time.

Nothing is impossible

Sunday Stroke Survival: Changes and Challenges

Well, I officially started being a homesteader this month. Not really,  just an semi urban homesteader because we only have a couple of acres versus dozens. The shift wasn't without drama. I'll spare you most of it. Don't we all have enough of that in our lives? But doing it all post stroke was a major headache!

We, Mel and I, have come up with a name for our little homestead. It's called the Cockeyed Homestead. Mainly because that was Mel's favorite term for what she did...cockeyed. In part, because I'm always thinking outside the box. It's been called original thinking by the kind, and down right insane by the not so kind. In other words...cockeyed. So it fits.

cock·eyed
ˈkäkˌīd/
adjective informal

 1. crooked or askew; not level.
    "cockeyed camera angles"
    synonyms: crooked, awry, askew, lopsided, tilted, off-center, skewed, skew,  misaligned
    "that picture is cockeyed"
  2. absurd; impractical.
        "do you expect us to believe a cockeyed story like that?"
3.  drunk.
        "I got cockeyed"

#1 Pretty much describes us.
#2 Possibly, we are both over half a century old, but we are still gonna do it.
#3 Nah, alcohol rarely passes these lips anymore. But there are plans to make honey mead and fruit based wine in our future. Why? Because we can and will, and there are medicinal uses for the stuff. Always in moderation. Never truly drunk as the meaning implies.

What we started with

Right now, we are getting organized. That's a huge job. Mel's thinking for the last two years was scatter brained, to put it kindly. She wanted it, she got it. It didn't matter whether so was equipped for it yet. It's not really her fault. She has ADD, which I've had plenty of practice with by way of my youngest daughter. She got chickens (6), Angora rabbits (6), a goat kid, started a garden, AND tried to renovate her trailer all within the first year of starting the homestead without any background or experience to back it up. Not to mention YouTube, a website with a blog, selling homestead products, and working away from the homestead. (Sound familiar my blog followers? Is she a Jo 2 or what?) She knew what she wanted and did it with very little forethought. And while she tried, everything fell apart.  She did everything cockeyed and quickly became overwhelmed. As a result, disillusionment and depression set in. While endearing to her following, as is her infectious giggle, it had no possible way to succeed but stranger things have been known to happen.

I had been counseling her for all that time. She needed to S L O W down. One job at a time. Gain experience and a comfort level before adding something new. Enter Jo permanently two years later. So you can imagine the mess. My contribution to this partnership is experience. Thirty years of organic gardening, three years of rabbit care, umpteen dozen years of building, renovating and remodeling, and off the grid skills. Although disabled, I have the same drive and dream as she does. I bring some planning and organizational skills into the mix. I also bring some really helpful tools like a weed whacker and lawn mower. :) Learn and plan before you do it as much as possible. There will always be surprised, but minimize their impact with knowledge and resources to be better able to deal with it. That's my way. So I'll be balancing her out and keeping her on the road to fulfilling our mutual vision.

The first order of business was to cut down the overgrowth to see what we have. That's where we are now after a full week. I have a clear vision of what we want to achieve and how to get there. Mel's property is laid out on the side of a mountain. So slopes and drops are a difficult problem for me. It is also heavily wooded with thick underbrush.The next or at the same time is to layout the gardens. Expanding or better planning on what has been established. We gotta eat. For the first year together, the focus is on finding what will grow well enough to offset half of our grocery bill. We'll improve on it yearly.  I need relatively flat areas for access. I do have a semi-paralyzed leg and walk with a cane most times. So this is an imperative if I've got to access and tend to these areas. So that's job one.

On the behind the scenes action, plans and goals are being set on paper to be put into the works. The nonvisual aspects, as for right now, is also being done.The website and YouTube channel are being revamped. I'm looking at marketing angles for wool, yarn, crochet and knitted goods, and other products produced by us. The homestead has got to generate income to be self-sufficient. Yes this a mid term goal. Little details on things like what we are calling ourselves. what and when we'll do items, how we divide labor and goals verses cost, etc.There are tons of details to be figured out. What I'm basically doing is setting up the homestead as a business. I  spent too many years in college and real business world doing this to succeed. This I know how to do even with brain damage.

Dream vision for bunny outside area

So it's busy, busy, busy. Mel provides the able, although getting older body, and I provide the working orders and help out where I can. The next big purchase is for The Warren. We decided to purchase an out-building for the rabbits. Yes, as income/people food making members of our household, they deserve a house and a proper play area outside. Just because they are working stiffs doesn't mean they will live a dole drum life. Besides, this will also be our temporary living quarters too while our new homestead house is being constructed.

I've been working on a logo. You have got to have an identifier to be branded, right? What do you think?

 

It's just one of the ideas I'm working on. Hopefully by next month the homestead portion will be up on it's new site if not sooner. God's still working on patience with me.

Until next time remember...

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival ~ Self-Advocating

Someone emailed me recently and said they were tired of being their own advocate.It is often a thankless job where you are knocking your head against brick walls.

I understand.

But then, I've always been an advocate in one form or other. I fight for what I want. I'm a Don Quixote of sorts tilting at windmills. I refuse to see injustices and the little, often helpless, person get stepped on. But that's just me. I'm wired that way but not all people are.

I also believe in being proactive in the things that really count. This includes matters dealing with my family especially.

Way back in the early 70's, I spoke out as an ombudsman for the Lung Association. It was mainly a public appearance type position, but I took it seriously. Who knew then I'd have a husband with COPD? Not me.

The mid and late 70's through the 80's, I was an ombudsman for a naval squadron. Ombudsman/advocate/trouble shooter and solver. Yeah, I wore a lot of hats even back then.

In the early 80's, I found new new challenge to take up. This was very personal. It involved my two year old daughter who was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. I studied, educated myself and others until I headed the entire southeast region.

In the 90's, I found myself being a child's advocate because I had a TBI child in public school. The kids had a way of being drawn and speaking to me. I became their voice because I was an adult and surely, adults would listen to another adult faster than a child. I also became the voice for disabilities at the local college for the same reason. This was before ADA. All these positions over lapped each other. They were underdogs who needed a champion.

I guess most of this was because I have a big mouth. If I believed in something, I just couldn't leave it alone if improvements could be made. Now I find myself recovering from a stroke. Yep, I'm an advocate again.

I know I'm not the only one going through all this stuff alone. I also have the ability to speak to everyone and anyone no matter their station in life. I can be pushy. I can be compassionate. I can be the teacher. I can be the student. I can get my  point across to anyone willing to listen and even to those who don't.

Being self advocating is a tireless, unending job. But then again, who better to make your point than you. You know better than anyone else what you are going through. Okay, so you don't like being pushy, the center of attention, and can't put the words together to make your point.

Even Moses didn't believe in himself in the beginning so he had Aaron speak for him. We all know what results that had. Aaron had no power or authority like Moses did. We are all like Moses in the beginning. We have to get angry or very upset to speak out. That's okay, if that's what it takes to get you into action.

Do I ever get tires of fighting and beating my head against the proverbial brick wall? Oh yeah! I am after all, only human. The past couple of weeks has been up to my eyes in frustration to the point of being a weepy mess. But today, I was measure and molded for a new AFO. After almost a year of fighting and pressure sores, I won against the insurance company. They will cover my new AFO 100% instead of 75%. Some battles take longer than others. I also changed their policy about a new AFO only every 5 years.

My battle for Botox took 4 months.

My battle with the grocery store about their parking took 1 week before they added extra space to their handicapped parking instead of just painting the space blue. ADA regulations helped with that.

Before you can self advocate you must do a few things to succeed...

• Educate yourself.
• Get your ammunition ready. Get all your ducks in a row and circle the wagons because if it's gonna cost them, they'll fight back.
• Put on your big girl panties/ boy's briefs because you are going to be at it for a while. Think a filibusterer in Congress. You have to be an adult or they will chew you up and spit you out.
• Armor-all your skin because you'll need a thick hide.
• Stick to your guns.
• Don't take "no" for an answer. You can compromise but you will not accept no.
• Talk to others. More than likely they are having the same battle. There is strength in numbers. You don't have to go it alone.
• Surround yourself with supporters. There will be a mountain of naysayers trying to chat in. Ignore them.
• Enjoy your hard earned victory. Or if you are not victorious, go back to the beginning and try again bringing more and better ammunition.
• The only time you face certain defeat is when you give up.

Nothing is impossible with determination.

Sunday Stroke Survival ~ Appreciating the New Me and a Recipe

The two weeks has been a flurry of activity at the Murphey Saga household. No not writing but supervising.

The renovations that were supposed to be completed by February were done now with the help of family. Mainly the girls on the end of the chorus line pictured on the left and their spouses.

For Father's Day, the family got together and bought a walk-in tub for us. It meant totally gutting and extending the master bathroom to do it. Being my house is built on a slab with a septic tank, this was a major undertaking involving a jack hammer. Everything had to be switched around for access. But I now have both a walk-in tub and roll in shower! This was one of my back seat issues.

Another issue was wider, uniform doors. All my doorways are now 36 inches wide insteadof 27, 30, and 36  inches wide. Another back seat issue solved. God forbid I ever have another stroke where I'm wheelchair bound, but I'm ready. Concrete was poured to ramp the small steps up and downs to get inside my home and into my old office now converted into a family room. Fresh paint through out the inside of the home which hasn't been done in ten years.

That bring me back to the title of this blog,  "Appreciating the New Me." In the old days I would have been in the midst of all this with boots and a shovel or paint brush in hand. This time I was the supervisor. I drew up the plans of how/where I wanted everything and sat back for the most part and watched. Yes, part of me wanted to jump in and help, and I did in certain circumstances, but I didn't HAVE to do it all. This was a HUGE change for me.

As a result, I was just as tired supervising if I had done the work myself, but without the body aches and pains. I still had creative input in how things were done without actually getting my hands dirty.

I can sit back and let others do the work and realized I was okay with it. I can let them have creative input within reason and not micro manage a project to death. My husband is the micro manager but his health is complicating those efforts now. He's more pliable and willing to go with the flow unlike a decade ago. Both of us are willing to accept help now. That's another huge change. We are realizing our own limitations. While it still gnaws at us, it's a relief not to have to go it alone also.

Well not totally dirt free, I still had the garden to contend with. My three sisters methods of planting works in the constraints of small raised bed gardening. I harvested 43 ears of corn off of 40 stalks. A far cry from the eighty ears I was getting from my full garden, but from a basic container garden not too bad. It has been shucked and I taught my grandchildren how to make corn husk dolls. The corn is drying out for chicken treats. My younger grandkids will have fun cracking it later.

The garden yield so far besides the corn mentioned above has been...

• 25 pounds of tomatoes
• 15 pounds of zuchinni
• 15 pounds of yellow squash
• 35 pounds of green beans
• 15 pounds of black eyed peas, shelled
• 10 pounds onions, garlic, ginger root, and horseradish
• 5 lbs salad greens, staggered plantings every two weeks
• 1/2 pound of squash blossoms to stuff, batter and fry as wanted

And still producing more.

Stuffed Squash Blossoms Recipe

A food processor makes the stuffing easier than my meat grinder.
1/2 pound ground chicken, cooked
1/2 large onion, coarse chop
1/2 bell pepper, coarse chop
1/2 cup celery, coarse chop
1/2 tbs chives, minced
1 clove of garlic, sliced
1 cup low fat ricotta cheese
1 cup Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup fresh oregano, basil, thyme
1 tbs butter, not margarine
12 squash blossoms
1/2 cup Egg substitute
1/2 c self-rising flour
1/2 c Sparkling water, very cold
Salt and pepper to taste

In a skillet sweat onions, celery, garlic, and bell pepper until almost translucent. Toss in chicken, herbs, salt and pepper. Cook until warmed through. Place in a bowl and chill for 20 minutes.

After 20 minutes place meat mixture and cheeses in food processor and pulse until it forms a loose ball and well combined. Place in a pastry bag. Heat oil for frying to 350 degrees.

In a bowl mix flour, egg, and water until combined. This mixture will be watery and thin.

Remove the stamens from the blossoms. They tend to give the dish a bitter taste. Fill with meat mixture leaving enough space to be able to fold the outer edges of the flower covering the meat. I can't give an exact amount because every blossom is different.

Dip the blossoms into the flour mixture and fry until golden brown. Eat immediately.

I'll serve these with fresh sliced tomatoes. 2 blossoms per serving. Yummy!