Still Not Dead Yet

Labor Day weekend I had a minor stroke.  My husband called 911.  I rode in an ambulance to the hospital.  Once I got there, they took very good care of me, other than serving breakfast too late.  (I’m used to an early breakfast.)

I had the best therapists in the world, and am out of the wheelchair and can walk with the help of a cane.  (The picture above is at the Memphis Zoo, just before Halloween.  Our insurance wouldn’t cover a home health aide, so my husband is my primary caregiver.

Downside:  my concentration and short-term memory are shot.  Don’t know when or if they’ll come back.  My left arm is more decorative than useful, so driving remains a long-term goal.

Upside:  I’ve been out of diapers since October or November.  Thanks to my speech therapist, I can speak reasonably intelligibly.  I recently submitted a poem to Cricket and  a short story, “The Lizard-Men from Outer Space to B Cubed Press’ Tales of the Space Force.  I also completed a fantasy story, “Trolls are Different” to accompany my application for the SLF Older Writers Grant.

Since I am unemployed and unemployable at present, I’ve resolved to work on my writing more seriously.  My Iron Writer Quarterly Goals are to

  1.  write and submit three stories, one per month.
  2. Blog weekly.  (which is why you’re reading this)
  3. Exercise my left arm and eventually regain the use of it.

That last one may be a long-term goal rather than a quarterly goal.

People keep reminding me that I’m doing much better than other stroke survivors.  That at seven months, many stroke survivors aren’t able to get out of bed yet.  I may be complaining of all the things I can’t do yet as well as minor pain, but most stroke survivors have it worse.  And I’m still on the right side of the dirt:  I’m not dead yet.

 with a cane.  After reciting “eleven benevolent elephants” more times than any sane person should, I can speak reasonably Thanks to the efforts of my speech therapist, I can spe However, my concentration is shot, as is my short term memory.  My left arm is more decorative than functional.  I am learning to do things one-handed.  The PBA was the worst of the side effects (uncontrolled crying jags and laughing fits).  Diaper rash was the second worse.  Luckily, shortly after I learned to change my own diaper, I graduated to being able to go to the bathroom by myself.  

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