Sunday Stroke Survial: Beat Depression wih Forward Progress

Depression can be a killer if you let it be. Sometimes, you don't realize depression is taking over your life until you are in full fledged depression, or you look back on the episode like I have this week. Depression comes in waves. Gentle at first, and then grows in size and strength until the waves engulfs you to the point you feel that you are drowning. It washes away self-confidence, self-worth, and just about all determination or effort to change before you realize it.

I was almost to the point of being engulfed because of circumstances. Ministers are not exempted from depression. We are human too. Remember a couple of weeks ago I posted about fear being a liar and a thief? You can substitute "depression" for "fear" here. I'd forgotten to do this and was sinking fast without truly recognizing it for what it was. I was in a sticky, smelly quagmire of  despair. It happened so slowly. First one thing then another compounded it, then another and so on for months. The creeping nature of this depressive bout could easily be discounted for other things like chomping at the bit waiting, or even chronic pain. I ignored the fact that I was going into a depression   Of course, these factors played heavily into my depressed state.

Yes, I did.

Finally, I recognized it for what it was. Yes, there were extenuating circumstances like still not hearing from Emory and heightened chronic pain, but I woke up and put on my big girl panties.

I remembered I'm not alone in this fight which was feeling like someone had stole my lollipop mid lick. I had allies in my corner. I'm not discounting God, but He had my back also. Who do you think rang the alarm bell that woke me up in the first place? I had hand picked my doctors also, hadn't I? A simple phone call from them was all it took to get a rope to pull me out of the quagmire of depression. In other words, steps towards forward progress. Nobody speaks doctor like doctors. I come close, but it's not the same.

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Suddenly, there was a light at the end of the tunnel and I could see the end of it. Hope was restored. Whether the Baclofen trial works or not, there is forward progress. Once the trial is over, we move forward. Whether I expect it to work is besides the point. My ultimate goal is the Rhizotomy for my arm. Relaxation of my leg can be accomplished with my increased medication and Botox if the Baclofen trial fails. It may not work as well, but it works for 45 out of 90 days. It's an option. Going this route takes longer to get results, but I get results. My major pain source is my arm.

It's amazing what a little hope does to depression. Almost instantaneously, you are doing the Snoopy dance of happiness that depression can't stand. Sure there is a long road ahead, but with a renewed spring in your step it seems doable. Depression melts away. The same goes for living post stroke. Being active in your recovery, no matter how long it takes, you have a ultimate goal in your mind and soul. It doesn't mean that you sit by the wayside and wait. You take the steps (exercises and repetition) to reach your goal while living your life to the best of your ability while you wait to reach your goal. Yes, I'm back touting the same old lines again.

Life abhors a vacuum. Depression is an equivalent to a vacuum. While depressed you are standing still. You are listening to the liar and a thief who is telling you, you can't. I'm telling you can. Can't never could.

So get off that chair and get to it. Make some forward progress today and get off that slippery slope of depression. One small step leads to another. You have to claw and crawl before you can walk or run. When facing living post stroke, we are all infants who stand holding onto something. May we continue to have the courage to let go and run.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: The Pity Pot

Are you on the self-pity pot again?! I'm on again and off again these days. It seems that nothing is going my way again. I kick myself from time to time about my first stroke. Especially when I read statistics like 80% of all ischemic strokes are preventable.

Did I really do this to myself? Why did I play Russian Roulette with my way of life? Didn't I know that my combined family history was slap full with other relatives with this catastrophic condition? Didn't I know the risk factors like obesity, high blood pressure, diabetes, and smoking? Yes, I sure did. So why am I kicking myself six years later? I asked for it, didn't I? I sure wasn't living the 20%.

Hindsight is 20/20. I can really do a number on myself when I get in this kind of mood. So why am I sitting on the pity pot. I got what I deserved, didn't I? But even people who don't have these risk factors have strokes. There is only so much medicine can do after the fact and every day that passes the odds of recovery slips a little farther away.

Normally, I can get outside and do something, but it's really rainy and wet right now. Too wet to do anything even in the breaks between hard showers. We are going on the third day of rain here which makes matters worse. I've already completed 99% of the busy work that needs done so my brain slips into the doldrums. I used to write away on rainy days. That ability is gone. That's my problem, a too active brain. Without activities to keep me occupied, my thoughts turn inward. My favorite/most hated boredom pastime is kicking myself when I'm down. Nobody does it better than I can. Isn't that true for most of us? Living post stroke is so much fun, isn't it? Everyone needs extra challenges in their lives. Let's have some real fun and have a stroke, or two, or if you are a real overachiever like me...three.

Depressed yet? Me too.

Snap out of it, Jo! Your readers want solutions, up beat blogs, and inspiration.

Okay, what can I say here. Hm, zero, zip, zilch is coming to me. I'm thinking harder. The rain is good for the garden. It has rained in a week, and you did say it needed to rain instead of having to water it all. No? Hmm, thinking harder. You could talk about how much your back ached picking 10 lbs of bush green beans this week and how you should have planted them in an elevated raised bed to make it easier. No, readers are tired of reading about the garden. Hmmm, thinking of another subject. How delicious your Cherokee tomatoes were that you sliced for dinner the other night. No, that's more gardening stuff. Something about surviving and living post stroke.

Nope. Nothing comes to mind. Well, I tried. Sorry y'all. The weather report shows these showers moving off tomorrow. Thank God! Nothing like getting out into sunshine to get off the pity pot for me. In the mean time, I'm going to get up and do the 1% I haven''t done yet... put clean sheets on my bed, and put on some music and dance with the vacuum cleaner a bit. If nothing else, I'll start tomorrow with a clean slate.

Nothing is impossible.

 

After a Stroke~ A blog and a rant

Kate Allatt had a great post today. It was about changing the focus of the National Stroke Association and mental illness in stroke survivor. I whole heartily agree with her.

Is it any wonder why Dean considers the National Stroke Association a joke. For the past two years since my stroke, I've subscribed to their newsletter. What do I find in my inbox? Pleas for money, participation in fund raisers, and a focus on stroke prevention, ie, F.A.S.T. As if stroke

survivors had abundant loose change floating about to donate.  Many stroke survivors are in the same boat I am. Our loose change goes towards NEEDS because recovery is first out of our pockets. Fund raisers and awareness campaigns are a great thing to do for nonstroke survivors. F.A.S.T is a half lustered approach for warning signs you may be having a stroke, but why give the stroke survivor a goodie bag full of advertising. Isn't that like putting the cart in front of the horse?

National Stroke Association put that money into where the money can do the most good for stroke survivors...research and recovery, even adaption techniques would be more useful.

After all, that's the only reason I and most survivors read your site. To date, I can count on one hand how many articles were geared for the stroke survivor. We didn't die from our stroke and trying to find normalcy. Help us. Be of use to us. Sure prevention is important, but surviving a stroke is just as important.

<stepping off that soapbox on to another>

Kate brings to light another point of why mental illness is so prevalent in stroke survivors. Actually, a couple of them. Robin Williams' recent death by suicide sheds new light on depression. He's just one of millions.

In my own experience, I see this happening in my own life. When I first came home after my stroke, my children were failing all over themselves to help their poor, old mom. Granted I couldn't do much. As time progressed, the visits/help became fewer and fewer. I might see the one daughter who lives the closest once a month. The others, every six months, if that.

Yes, as a momma, I make allowances and excuses for this behavior, but really? "Call me, if you need me." But when I do call only when I'm desperate, you are all busy in your own lives and be able to fit me into your schedule next week. I understand this is an intrusion into your life. That's why I waited until I'm desperate!

My daughter came in from AZ. When I asked her to clean (knowing it would be spotless after it was done) my kitchen after a six month's absence, I got, "I told you I wasn't going to do this again."

Forget about Mom had a stroke. Mom has had a seemingly endless pressure sore on her foot. Mom is using every spare ounce of energy she has caring for their stepfather. Forget about the money she was trying to raise on limited resources to help her. Forget Mom is your sounding board and supporter for life past and present. Just nope, "I ain't gonna do it" and didn't. In fact, I saw her only thirty minutes in each of her three visits that week. Closer to ten minutes after she spent time talking to my DH (darling hubby).

When I complained, which I don't do very often, to my oldest daughter who lives an hour away, about the lack of help I got, "Well, I put my life in a holding pattern for the first year after your stroke. When do I get a chance to have a life?"

I won't ask my grandchildren to do clean or do most of the things I can't when they come (few and far between) anymore because they leave a bigger mess than when they started. Once was enough for me to learn this. It took me two months to clean up that mess.

My hospice volunteer had life get in the way. So I hired a neighborhood young man to do the yard work. After a sob story, I paid him in advance for work to be completed. He is history. I haven't seen him for three weeks. Lesson learned and pocket emptied.

I get offers from neighbors and friends near and far to help...

"If I only lived closer." (Even if I know you really mean it)
"Just call."
"What can I do for you?"
"Oh, I don't have time for that right now. Maybe next week"

Frankly, I'm tired of asking for help and not getting it. I may be two years out from my stroke, but there is a long list of things that are just a physical impossibility to do, but I still try because I'm the only one I can depend on while others depend on me too.  Now I know everyone doesn't have the same attitude I do...if you see something needs to be done, then do it. I can't be the only one.

So if you are amazed by what I write I'm doing, in spite of personal risk, please understand I'm doing it because I have to. Don't be amazed. Somethings need to be done whether you can or not. But somethings just can't be done and permanently left undone unless I can find someone else to do it. Is it any wonder that the doctor increased my antidepressant (for Fibromyalgia) to combat signs of stress/depression. Nope, not in my mind.

Sunday Stroke Survival ~ Grief- Depression

Welcome to stage three of my series on grief counseling. Today's topic is depression. Everyone gets depressed once in a while. If someone tells you they've never been depressed and they are over the age of ten...THEY ARE LYING.

That's like the couple that say they never argue. Someone is stuffing their feelings and they are not communicating to each other. They are in big trouble.

You've had a significant loss in your life and it has changed forever. If there is any more greater reason to be depressed, I can't think of one. Everyone gets blue when thinking of what they've lost.

Honestly, I still get in a blue mood on August 2nd and November 19th, the anniversaries of my mother's death and my son's. It's been 30 years for one and 27 for the other. These were traumatic losses for me and those dates will live forever in my brain until I die, maybe even after that. Like I've said, there is no cure for grief only coping mechanics.

You feel a lack of energy. You cry a lot. You get angered easily and inappropriately. Your blue. You may even think your life is over. You may even think of suicide to end this pain and you lack the will to go on. After all, everyone else would be better off without you putting yourself and them through this. Did I hit a raw nerve or strike a chord of truth with these statements?

First, realize that this is depression. It's a disease process. It's also a normal process when faced with a loss. It's part of the cycle of grief. What I mentioned earlier about getting blue is different than what I'm talking about here. That's old healing, but a remembrance honoring a past hurt and family in my life who have passed on. It doesn't fully impact my daily life to the exception of all else. That is the huge difference.

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With the current loss, everything is fresh and in your face constantly. Every time you turn around you are repeatably confronted by the loss. Yes, I'm still there after a year since my stroke, but there is a new purpose in my life...moving past the loss. It went from constant to intermittent and I will always have bouts with it. There's not a day that goes by that I wished I had use of my arm and hand back (especially for typing), or could walk again, or speak normally, or return to my own, semi normal, old life. But it no longer consumes every waking minute or thought. I am stringing words that make sense and sentences. I am typing. Those are major milestones and should be looked at as such. They are proving to me that I am moving on with my life.

By moving on and getting on with your life depression lessens. At first you are going through the motions but with time, you are no longer an automaton. You find yourself taking an interest in the things that you are doing...you are healing. You are awaking after a deep slumber. You may do this with drug therapy and professional counseling or you may do it all on your own. Don't be ashamed of seeking help. You are taking steps to get better. Admitting you need help is a big step in the healing process. I, myself, am on an antidepressant. I originally, it was prescribed to deal with my fibromyalgia, but it has also helped with my depressive state after my stroke. No it doesn't account for my mostly cheery disposition that's natural.

• Get together with friends and family for an outing. You may have to force yourself. You may be surprised that you enjoyed yourself. Don't feel guilty about this.
• Go to church if this was your usual practice.
• Find a new interest or hobby that you didn't do before. Even stop and notice how the trees move in the wind.
• Fill your hours with busy work. Anything you can do without thinking. You are not suppressing your grief only sidelining it for a period of time. Be sure to set a time limit or you will be stuffing it.
• What a comedy and laugh. Laughter really is the best medicine. I remember when my mother died. All of were heart broken because we held hope so tightly until the end. My sister brought up the memory of Mom where she held out a finger shaking it when you were young saying, "You no cry." It became a symbol that carried us through the tough days ahead. It caused us all to chuckle at the memory. It still does.
• Baby steps. You won't heal over night. You will not heal tomorrow, but maybe in the months to come it will be there and take hold without you even noticing it.

Remember everything in life is about baby steps. You have to know how to balance the good and the bad. My children, now adults, say when I threaten them, "Yeah, but I can outrun you now." And I usually retort one of two things, "Yeah, but I can throw this cane like my old police baton and trip you." Or but when I do catch you, I'll be busier than a one legged woman in a butt kicking contest." I am a one functional leg woman after all.

I'll start you off. I dare you not to laugh or at least crack a smile at least one of these.

I saw that smile. Felt good didn't it? Right after my stroke I watched AFV for weeks on end to learn how to laugh again through my depression. Sometimes laughter is the only way to stop from crying.

Remember even your momma told you, "It's only a phase"? Depression is too. It's part of the grief cycle. If it gets too bad don't hesitate to get help. If you don't recognize it in yourself, listen to others around you. They see it. In the grand scheme of things this is a pit stop and it will get better although it might not seem like it.

The Fast Getaway

For the last two weeks, I've done nuthin' but mourn the loss of the movement I'd gained with the Botox working and I do mean NOTHING. I haven't written, haven't shopped, barely cooked besides nuke 'em meals, or done absolutely anything but front seat issues that pop up.

I hear you, "But Jo, I've read your blog almost everyday and you say you haven't written." Nope not even written. I did a fast getaway.The beauty of the scheduler. I've slept and read more, and just vegetated. Movement of my right arm causes the spasms and spastcity to increase thus pain levels. My right ankle has regressed to the point of me considering using my wheelchair full time.

I dreamed of an out of body experience where I left this body and mind behind, and I could do everything again. Instead of being trapped in a body that couldn't do much. There was comfort in those fast getaways and I chose to stay in them. Everyone needs a break sometimes, but where can you actually getaway to if you have to take your body with you? Yep, I'm talking about a major depressive state.

Well, to make a drag on story short, I'm over it now. My mind is still a bit foggy, but I'm attributing it to the increase of medications I'm taking to combat the pain I'm in. AND so I begin again. It's time to get off the pity pot and fight FOR me and not AGAINST me.

Diane from The Pink House on the Corner blog went through a similar state a couple of weeks ago from the caregiver side. But unlike her I'm the stroke survivor and the caregiver for my husband. Wohoo! The double helpings for me. Everyone just loves double helpings, don't they? I

mean it could always be worse ------>

That's the beauty of living a glass half full kind of life. Even so, there are limits to my positive attitude. At times like this is when friends and family come into play as my lifesavers. A few days here and there are fine, but not anything longer.  They spring into action unbidden.

I've touched a lot of lives in my professional capacity as a minister and just being me. In my life, The picture of the five scoops are the "reap what you sow" kind of things in relationships I've developed over the years.

For example I received the news that my attorney was pulling out of a possible legal action because he felt it was a case he couldn't win. While talking to him my call waiting was constantly buzzing which I ignored. I was in a more depressed state than I was in before. I was actually crying in disappointment and anger. This didn't help my aphasia or relieve the concern of my husband seeing me such a state. In fact it constricted my throat where I was having a really hard time breathing let alone speaking. Ya gotta love paralysis after a stroke. It is just so much fun being me.

After I calmed down, explained to my husband what was going on, and looked at my phone to see who was insistently calling when I was speaking to my, now former, lawyer. It was my daughter, Jennifer. I called her back to make sure nothing was terribly wrong because she's coming down to visit over Mother's Day weekend with my youngest grandson and granddaughter.

Nothing was wrong. She had a story to tell me. A couple of weeks ago for my birthday. She came to visit during the week for several days. She took with her all my blankets to wash in her new fangled, high efficiency washer with a steam cycle. While she was here she did the mortal combat maneuver with the spider population in my house. Think back to my Creepy Crawlies excerpt. Remember I can't look up and get the cobwebs and keep my balance. She's deathly afraid of spiders, but loves her momma more.

The story unfolds...She put a load of blankets into the machine and goes to unload them from her washer. And what does find after going through the hot cycle, bleach, and steam...a spider. He's not dead but crawling, albeit drunkenly, out of her washer. Alive! She said, "Mom, I didn't have the heart to kill it. I got a cup and a spoon, and put it outside in my garden."

She had me rolling with laughter which broke my depressive state. This time I was crying and my throat was constricting with merriment. Now I fully expect to get these depressive states again, but I know my family and friends will snap me back if I can't break the cycle myself.

To Write or Not Right Now

I've spent the last two weeks not writing a single word except for this blog. What's behind this stoppage of work? Exhaustion? Family? Uninspired? Laziness? Mental issues? Depression? How about all of the above!

Whichever one I want to blame that's the cause. This month is more than halfway over and I haven't written a single new word to my book, Don't Get Your Panties in a Wad. In fact, I haven't even opened my rough draft this month.<shaking my head> I'm ashamed to call myself an writer, because I'm not writing.

This month I'm exhausted. I stay that way no matter how much sleep I get. I'll drag in from my PT/OT sessions and crawl into bed. In a two-hour session, I'll peddle mountains for three miles on a bike, 1,000+ steps, biofeedback/e-stem exercises for 20 minutes, range of motion exercises for my arm, computerized reactions, and stretches for an hour. After a two-hour nap, I'll do more of the at home exercises and another round of electrical stimulation (e-stim). I'll lay down for another half hour, not really sleeping just doing some light bed exercises and stretches while watching the idiot box. Then I'll nuke something for supper eating it with no appetite but because I have to eat before night meds and 8 & 10 PM.

On the family front, so far this month there has been one grandchild's birthday, a day at the beach,  my anniversary, my nephew's birthday, my niece's wedding, homecoming at my home church, two baby showers, and my husband's birthday. Never a dull moment which the reason this blog is titled The Murphey Saga instead of some clever writerly name. It's the never ending story of the Jo Murphey, the writer. It's comparable to a bad soap opera.  Kind of like that night time soap opera a dozen and a half years ago with Billy Crystal "Soap."

Uninspired and laziness (see above) It seems there are more things taking away my energy spoons faster than I can replace them. So just what am I doing with my time? I find myself on POGO in between times trying to increase my speed of various games, rebuilding my vocabulary with Scrabble  and QWERTY, matching skills with Mahjong, Sequencing abilities with card games, Bingo, and Boggle. I used to find these things relaxing but now they task my brain and can get frustrating...it's work. But I'm also building my clicking speed with my mouse. If only I could draw left handed, but that's a superfine motor skills...like writing. On the hand writing front, I can write where others can actually read what I wrote. I've progressed from that large kindergarten paper to wide ruled although I still have trouble staying on the line. Maybe I'll try coloring.

The mental stress is caused from the stroke and I realize this. Having to backspace over misspelled words, seeing all the green and red squiggly lines is down right depressing. My depression stems from my not being able to write/type the way I'm used to and a whole lot of other things since the stroke. I long for the days of just 4 1/2 months ago when I could  plug away at my keyboard and finish a rough draft of 50K words in a matter of weeks. I started this book two months ago and typed 16K words and it's a mess worthy of a grade-schooler and I'm having doubts big time. You think I'm joking? You know that grade reading level thingie in the spell checker? Up until last week it tallied 5.2. But the last addition brought it up to 8.0 which is about standard although my usual for nonfiction is about 10th grade level. I keep reminding myself that I had a stroke less than five months ago, but that is getting old even to me. If you are following my other blogspot blog PastorJoSays, it goes into more detail about my rationale for my stroke. 

This is my pity pot thinking when it takes me 45 minutes to shower and wash my short hair, and another 5 to brush my teeth and hair, 20 minutes to put on clothes so they are not skewed or twisted. Forget about make-up! I've never been one of those fru-fru type of gals. Maybe some lipstick or blush on occasion, thank goodness. I've never been gorgeous and no amount of war paint will improve it. Normal was shower, dress, makeup and out the door in under fifteen minutes. Being able to cut my own finger and toe nails...maybe even polish them or buff them. Growing your own fresh vegetables. Being able to wash dishes in the sink. Fast chopping ingredients and preparing gourmet, home cooked meals. The little things in life that most people take for granted or at least I did until my stroke. Time's up! Off the pity pot.

On a lighter note, I'd forgotten I'd signed up for the annual Zombie Walk in Savannah next month until the email arrived last week. I'd planned to participate in full zombie regalia, do a book signing, and offer PDF CD versions of Zombie Apocalypse: Redemption and what should have been Zombie Apocalypse: Travelers. Travelers still sits on my hard drive, and since the stroke, it still needs a major rewrite. I e-mailed the sponsor back with my regrets, explaining my stroke, and although I would make an excellent zombie with a dragging arm, droop my face a bit, and twisted foot...I just couldn't sign books. Oh well, maybe by March in Jacksonville. Or next year in Savannah. It seems like I'm saying that a lot these days...maybe next year. It's not procrastination...it just is. My insurance is done for physical therapy. I'm still fighting with Social Security Disability with the help of a lawyer. But if it takes as long as with my husband's case...I won't need it. I plan to be fully recovered by then.

In the meantime, I plan to start writing again in on Monday...wish me luck.
Keep writing and loving the Lord

How do handle real life intrusions to your writing?