Stroke and mirrors

Week 6, still residing in hospital 3 I had somehow forced myself into a great headspace and started looking forward to my daily physio sessions as I was seeing continuous improvement and it filled my days

On the Monday the physios did a scenario of: let’s say you’ve fallen over, face first, can you get up? And I could get to my hands (in a fashion) and knees, then a squat then up to my feet if I had something to balance with

Itwas the first time I felt I’d used a lot of my body together at the same time in a long time and it almost felt normal like I had some control of my body

The Tuesday was another time the physios challenged me. Flamingo standing with all weight on my weak leg and balancing then could I move my strong-leg around then n front of me and transfer the weight,it was wobbly but I did it! It was my first kind of step,

Also I wore shoes for the first time in over 2 months; I had a pair of white and green river island trainers on, I’d once bought them for a holiday and rarely worn afterwards.I’d last worn them going to theatre in hospital one, it turns out not only are shoes nice for style but they adjusted my feet position to stabilised me more by leaning me forwards a tiny amount and stopping my weak foot from rolling

In the time I’d been in hospital I had ordered 2 pairs of shoes both timberlands (or timbos) which as a brand I have a real soft spot for. One was a walking trainer I planned on using for dog walking hopefully in the future, the other the traditional sandy colour but with a blue detail these were going to be nicer and more for going out, I wasn’t even sure what going out would look like in the future, I couldn’t see me many beers deep, in in a bar with friends (normally gymnastic friends) having a dance I definitely wanted both pairs for our planned September holiday, initially booked as 5 nights with me, Rich and marina the dog. We planned on doing a lot of walking and going out when we booked it months pre stroke. But like many things it just got added to my goals list

Week 6 also had parole meeting 3, ,link here) where my request to go home was once again declined, while I had a room of everybody involved in my care we discussed the fact the rehab service was great but physiotherapy stopped on a weekend which was a shame when I was doing so much during the week. one of my favourite physios “bit” and said she would come in on the weekend on her own time and without the rest of the team which was incredibly kind of her

Saturday came I was sat outside with Rich, my parents, sister and her kids when the physiotherapist arrived

Claire, rich and dad left to go to costa coffee, I went to the physio room with the one physiotherapist and my mum who had been asked to assist, after some normal exercises like bridges, core work and then standing up. I was sat perched on one plinth bench and another was placed at 90 degrees to my right n making an L shape with the second bench . I was asked to stand. Go through the mechanics of moving my weak leg in a step: core tight, thigh up from knee, drive forward with hip., place foot,weight and power through the foot, get bslsnced then bring the right, strong, leg to match and keep repeating. The physio sat in front of me with a wheeley stool and kept moving back away from me, mum stood to my left supporting my weak arm as a slight balance aid and my right arm lightly touched the bench plinth Not to hold on to but just for a feeling of balance, it was happening after 6 weeks I had taken my first steps. I walked the length of the plinth which was six feet, I had walked!! As the physio said we were done. I got into my wheelchair and cried at doing something I’d ruled out ever happening again, mum cried too and even the physio came for a hug and cry with us.

We nipped back to my room to grab some bits and then went to find the family up in Costa to tell them, only dad and rich remained but were equally as thrilled, I cried again telling them what I’d done. It was a big step not just the physical steps I’d taken but mentally too, i knew this was a breakthrough and a big tick on my rehab progress

was lucky enough to grow up in a small village with a big family, my mum being the youngest of 5Children;who all of which had 2 children each as a minimum and most of us have had kids now too there’s almost 30 of us kicking loosely around one small villiage, my mums eldest brother my uncle Jim is generosity defined he’s never happier than when he’s got a house full of people. I’ve always said the weekends at their house are the aspiration I want; his adult kids and grand kids descend and often other people just nip in, passing through sayinghello there’s always a bottle of wine open and beer in the fridge, it’s a hub for the family and they just pass through and chat I hope our house becomes the same for my family in the future.

Uncle Jim has been ill for a couple of years with COPD and a lot of respiratory issues. He’s been pretty much always on oxygen and has times when he feels like he can’t breathe which cause panic and stress and I imagine just aggravates the other issues

In 2022 he started being semi regularly admitted to hospital when he felt seriouslyunwell with his breathing this continued into 2023.

He was admitted into my hospital 3in my week 7, but was adamant he was leaving his ward to find and see me, he’s a true patriarchal family man and wanted to check in and see how I was doing He wasn’t allowed a visit but his wife my auntie Christine did visit and said I was on his mind and could I visit him so he could put it at res; 2 days later me, mum and dad went up to see him. It was the day after I’d first walked (link:one small step) but we took the wheelchair to his ward.

He was thrilled to see me. He really was, said I looked good and he thought I’d have more facial droop, He was concerned about my mental and cognitive function and if I was struggling with anything communication wise he offered to come and sit in my room, he said this as he was sat with oxygen on, looking very tired. I declined the offer thinking I probably looked a little healthier than he did

But 2 family menbers both in the same hospital at the same time did feel a bit cruel.

We agreed to reconvene in the pub at a later date

This post in memory of Uncle Jim, Rip 28/7/2033, sorry we never got that pint!

hospital 3 the rehab one, I had my own room. During a session where I was trying to emotionally blackmail the physios and OTS INTO LETTING ME LEAVE I TALKED ABOUT BEING HOMESICK.

Their response was to decorate my room with things to brighten it up, they put up a huge sticky sheet which became home to some cards and drawings from my niece and nephew, including some entertaining ones about mr bump falling over and a heart saying “I will get better soon”

My darling husband under hearing the phrase “brighten the room” decided the brightest thing in the world is Kylie Minogue so bought a life size cut out and propped her in my room,

Every time someone new came in the room they were startled by a figure in the corner. Amusing when it was friends. The agency night nurses were less than impressed on many occasion. Thinking someone had snook in and was stood silently watching them it became a running joke between myself and the majority of the staff, everyone was concerned about her when it was time to go home but she briefly got back before I did and went into my “recovery room” that was previously our guest room

hospital 3, the main rehab centre,

I was placed in a nice side room, en-suite (not that I could use it), the room door had a singular pane of glass on to the corridor.

It became apparent on night one there that was a man elderly lady on the ward with dementia, I thought about her regularly, imagining that she was already being confused about the world then having a stroke: did she understand why her body no longer worked properly, how was physio with constant demands and intensity for her to experience? It felt exceptionally cruel for her, it played on my mind a lot

She had taken great umbrage with being on the ward, and most nights shuffled her way towards an exit, would hit the locked security doors and beg to leave followed by staff shouting her name , sometimes she’d ask for the police phoning as she thought she was locked in the ward against her will, despite my sympathy and being distraught at my own situation I did often have a wry smile at her antics

She regularly tried my room as an escape route but it didn’t go anywhere. Nightly I’d see her silhouette pass my door, then she’d appear, peaking in and breathing on the door so it misted over like the raptors in Jurassic park so she earned the name Jurassic Margaret admittedly not my most compassionate moment, one night she got in the room, clocked nurse kylie the life size cut out and like everyone else was startled by her so hit her with a walking stick, sacrilege! I buzzed a nurse who came and like a budgie at night threw a blanket over her head and essentially dragged her out of the room

There is someone called Marina who gets mentioned on here a lot and deservedly should get a bit more of a background. Our gorgeous border collie: Marina.

I never wanted a dog, after moving into our dream house a week before covid lock down in 2020we spent 2 years doing so much to the house and I loved the house so when Rich suggested a dog as he had been asking for years; I wasn’t interested in the slightest but as he was now working from home indefinitely, he wanted company and could commmit the time a dog needs i agreed to a dog but said let’s get a rescue he phoned a rescue centre and we planned to go on a lockdown Saturday in earyApril 2021it was all set times for visiting to allow social distancing

However on that-day I got a phone call in the morning from my mother. In the small, interbred village imagine Emmerdale but less shagging thst Igrew up in, an old lady who was a family friend had passed away unexpectedly overnight leaving a dog and many cats the dog was likely going to end up in a sanctuary and did we want to visit, see the dog?and if we wanted to rescue it?Rich was buying Dog bowls and toys within 30 mins, soon after we walked into a dead woman’s home, the living room was covered in smelly, wet, puppy toiletpads and a fat border collie met us, desperate to play and get belly rubs,

It turned out she wasn’t house trained and was fat due to a diet of takeaways and beers shared every night with her owner.

Within the hour Marina the dog was in our home, with hundreds of toys and loving all the attention.

She grieved for about a week, regularly panting and crying, she had clearly been loved before and loved her old owner, Rich spent a long weekend sleeping on the sofa with marina snuggled next to him

She’s soon become Rich’s favourite thing on earth and up high on my list too, she’s always “on” as she’s a bc, loves nothing more than laying over or between us both and getting belly rubs, she will move your hand with her paw to get her optimum stroking positions too, she will play fetch for hours and eventually I grew to like walks through the woods next to our house. I’d tell her what was going on in my world and in my head andshe didn’t care, just walked with me, hunting for squirrels or a stick to play with

Also there is no better feeling than coming home from a bad day to a bundle of fur thrilled to see you.

In the early weeks of my hospital stay I was worried what the dog thought had happened to me, the last time she’d seen me I had my suitcase and left her upset in the hallway , did she think I’d died like her old owner? The kids and rich would tell me her antics, sleeping under my side of the bed, stealing my clothes, moping and sitting where I did on the sofa, she’s a bright dog who is very loving

One day I told the physios I missed her and they arranged a visit to the ward garden.

She came when I was in my ‘stroke chair’ a giant black armchair style chair on wheels that forced me to sit up and supported me, I was in my room when the ward manager came in all excited “do you own a border collie?!” “There’s one in the garden we think with your husband”, she pushed me to the door, once open and marina could see me she did a little whimper the

The ward manager stood at the door and had a cry watching as suddenly all marinaslegs tapped at 100mph like a crazy tapdance when I got closer she jumped at the side of the chsir not onto me, I could fuss her a bit with my strong arm and she licked my arm in approval

Hospital Days are long, nights are even longer, so I took to watching tv on my iPad in bed, I like a bit of sci-fi and horror and stsrted rewatching all of American horror story. During the Coven season it’s all about witchcraft and isbased in the deep south of America and had flashbacks to the civil rights movements. One night while watching a very uncomfortable scene the nights agency nurse “Sofia” came in to check on me. She was a pleasant black woman who cared for me many nights, this night however she heard some disgusting phrases from my iPad and I quickly apologisedand muted it.

The shame of that was awful enough.

Then the exact same happened the next night with nurse Patience, I was sure they would know each other and be texting about the racist piece of shit in room2.I’ve never been as embarrassed

I’ve never been the most comfortable person in my own skin, as a child I was painfully skinny,wore glasses and needed braces to sort my teeth all of which carried on into my 20s. I always thought I was a bit ugly, despite an army of ex lovers and a list of men waiting incase my marriage ever failed. I never felt particularly attractive

In my 30s I decided I needed to change this and started going to the gym where thankfully I got 2 very good PTs with great bodies who tsught,inspired and pushed me. I was also able to afford nicer clothes and’s a good barber and the odd few minutes on a sun bed (yes I know but it wasn’t high in my risk register considering and really started to feel good about myself, a lot of this was due to my body looking better, I even did a little bit of modelling which did wonders for my self image and confidence.

Then 5 years prior to the stroke when I went to work at the children’s hospital I met another Ben who had a massive impact on my life, he was tall and skinny and had had similar experiences, compounded by the fact his brother was a bodybuilder and PT (we’ll come back to him in time, the sparks chapter) he started working out we would compare workout plans and eating, when I knew my cardiac surgery was coming I decided I couldn’t just spend weeks in bed and watch my hsrd earned body melt so I went on a “bullk” eating 3000 calories a day and living in the gym, 5 gym sessions and 2 gymnastic sessions a week so about 8 hours of lifting and 3 of throwing myself around

While in cardiac intensive care my mum took a photo of me and showed me. That became the realisation point of how ill I was, central line hanging out my neck and my chest covered in scars, I looked so pale skinnny and wiped out too, I was told by staff I had a significant facial droop when we discussed the stroke. I didn’t see this until hospital 3,Rich pushed my wheelchair into a lift with a mirror and the man looking back wasn’t me, I sobbed and sobbed that it looked so bad, the physios had me start facial exercises which worked pretty quickly sandone day a friend messaged after seeing a photo of me to say every photo looked more like me, I think I cried again at that

Sometimes I refer to hospital 1/2/3 and it’s easier for me to put a timeline together of roughly what happened when and where

January 2023: agreed to surgery to fix a rhythm issue with my heart thinking it would solve a lot of issues

May 2033: phone call on a Monday to say surgery Wednesday and to be admitted to the ward the day before

Admission to hospital 1:

Pre surgery night. Morning went to theatre, afternoon / evening stroke became apparent

Next few nights Cardiac intensive Care.

Hospital2: after a few days in hospital 1 I was transferred to hospital 2 as it had a better stroke rehabilitation service and neurology care for around a weekX

Hospital3: my local hospital as part of an effort to get me closer to home and to useingstroke rehabilitation more effectively I spent 8 weeks here

Home

8 weeks later I got home, a tad out of the blue after being desperate for weeks to go.

Link to going home here

d as everyone says

In hospital 2, initial rehab, I had my salt (speech anf language) assessment to see it i could swallow foodand thankfully I could but a softer diet was recommended just for that hospital I don’t remember much more from there but I do remember my family feeding me, in particular a dessert. My mum fed me, hot custard and kept dripping some onto my chest burning me, my dads pithy observation “we should have filmed this titledmum burns adult sons chest with custard, we could have sold it online there’s definitely an audience somewhere on the internet for that”

Hospital 3 was an unusual (to me)set up, an ageressive lady appeared about 7am with fresh water jugsthen immediately wanted to know what I wanted for breakfast, I was still very very tired in a morning and have never been a big eater of breakfast or a morning person but if I said no she took it personally by week 2 I started having cornflakes to make life easier but eating cereal laid down in bed unable to see the bowl is quite the challenge, come the time I was out of bed and the bedding was being changed there would be cornflakes galore sometimes scattered across the room too my mum once told me off for eating Doritos in bed overnight I hadn’t it was just dried cornflakes. The physios once found one stuck to my back too.

Not long after breakfasts thr agressive food lady would appear with an iPad which every day looked a surprise piece of technology tasking what I wanted for lunch, often none of the options, but there was always a tomato soup fall back which I think isurvived on for a few weeks, then during lunch she would appear with the iPad again to order thst evenings meal, the menus were identical week in, week out. I knew Tuesday was pizza for lunch and a decent pizza too, Friday was fish and chips with chocolate sponge with chocolate custard dessertwhich I did enjoy.

I am quite a fussy eater. One of my most hated foods is baked beans and if they couldn’t find a way to get them with a meal it was a failure, even with meals you wouldn’t expect, I’m sure I was offered them with a Sunday lunch, I once ordereda pasta bake thinking it would be pasta. Sauce and cheese, come eating it a river of baked beans fell out, not surprisingly when I got weighed weekly the weight was falling off me, no gym, gymnastics or muscle building exercise and a tiny dailydiet of cereal or toast, soup and sometimes an evening meal,it got so bad my mum started bringing me lunch with high protein such as hot chicken sandwiches,Steak and wealso found that if I wasn’t in bed. (Say in physio or the garden, let’s be honest I wasn’t out running 5k) when theangry food lady came she would pick a meal for me. And picked so many meals I didn’t like my mum wrote a list of my likes and dislikes and placed it on my door. Angry food lady wasn’t keen on mum bringing ne food and would comment on “mamma feed” and how wasteful it was If I didn’t eat a meal she had chosen, it was like she had cooked it herself and I’d launched it on the wall.

During very bad times I sent rich to the costa coffee and for a while survived off ham and cheese toasties alongside soup and toast or cereal. Baring in mind just prior to my surgery I’d done a gym bulk and put on 10kg of muscle and some fat, I was heartbroken every time I got on the scale eventually losing 12.5kg see the “body image post: https://strokeandmirrors.uk/?p=37https://strokeandmirrors.uk/?p=37

I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth but I do like very sour sweet with a specific soft spot for fizzy Percy pigtails which a lot of my family and friends know and to my benefit there was a M&S food in hospital 3, so I had a regular supply, often on an evening I’d poke at the evening meal, lay down put something to watch on my iPad and eat phizzy tails with rich sat at my side. It became abit of a nighttime tradition and even when home I still kept eating them.