Here’s another “it’s been sat in drafts for months because I’m rubbish at explaining the topic”
I find it frustrating being physically slow. I want to dash, I want to run, I don’t want every step to be a mental checklist and huge effort. I want to go “ yeah I’ll nip upstairs and brush my teeth before I go out” and it not take ages. Pre stoke I would gallop upstairs on all fours like a tiger (in my head)
Mentally I also feel sluggish. The best description is my brain feels like a windows 95 pc trying to run windows XP (yes I’m old, leave my references alone). I recognise it’s trying to work but the process isn’t smooth or faultless, thankfully I don’t crash but I do often talk through what I’m doing to give me that extra time to process
E.g
I am forever making notes and to do lists to mean I can box off a task or thought rather than either: tackle it immediately or remember to come back to it later
leaving the house for work in a morning I’ll verbalise my inner monologue.
“I’ve got my phone, is my wallet still in my work bag? Have I got lunch? Is my blue badge still in the car?”
I know all these answers but talking them through keeps me focused and self assured.
Pre stroke I’d have grabbed stuff as I walked out of the house without a word or hesitation. it’s tiring to be like this which then slows my brain function down more.
It’s the mental equivalent of being in a dream, I feel distant, lost and unsure. I’m waiting to wake up.
Someone recently commented that my speech appears faster, I’m not sure it feels faster but I like that it might be a thng.
Clothes take forever, I want a quick change to be quick, not need a seat, plan and complex manoeuvre.
Pre ambleI can’t quite remember how this concept landed in my brain as a good idea to post (watch me delete it in 24 hours from embarrassment ) but here goes
Background:
Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is a conceptualisation of the needs (or goals) that motivate human behaviour, which was proposed by the American psychologist Abraham Maslow. According to Maslow’s original formulation, there are five sets of basic needs that are related to each other in a hierarchy of prepotency (or strength). Typically, the hierarchy is depicted in the form of a pyramid although Maslow himself was not responsible for the iconic diagram.[3] The pyramid begins at the bottom with physiological needs (the most prepotent of all) and culminates at the top with self-actualization needs
Let’s see how, post stroke life, I meet them:
Physiological
Breathing: yup I do that ok ✅
Food 🤷♂️ yes I eat, usually well and plenty, I’m not going to die of starvation but the impact of not being able to chose then prepare my own foods and eat with cutlery is a constant source of frustration; I get embarrassed when eating out that I can only use a fork or someone has to cut my food
Water – as above I can and do drink safely but the impact on not always being able to access drinks when and what I want is annoying.
Shelter – I have a lovely home as features in ‘my safe space’ but I struggle to clean, maintain and care for it.
Clothing – I have lots of clothes *peers in wardrobe* but I can’t dress easily (long sleeves, coats and buttons are an issue) I miss dressing in whatever I feel like not just what’s easy. Athe amount of time to change clothes or dress is frankly bloody annoying
Sleep – I do sleep, some residual neuro fatigue means I often sleep lots and frequently plan mornings to get bonus sleep in , however I often struggle to get comfortable. My pre stroke sleeping position is now impossible, frequently my affected arm will drop off the bed or end in a weird position so I wake up in pain.
Health – currently (June 25) I’m mostly stable, residual stroke hemiparesis is the biggest concern but I continue to work on it. My heart seems to have settled a bit 🤞
Employment- yes I work, it’s not the job it was because I can no longer physically fulfill it, which has removed my passion and enthusiasm, I am constantly looking for alternatives to try and reignite a spark which feels long since extinguished.
Property – as I said under shelter I have a very nice house.
Family – I am surrounded by a loving family; my relationship with my children has changed, I’m not the silly, tactile dad I was which has reflected in our changed dynamic.
Social ability – I am able to go out and see my friends and do things. I lost a big chunk of social ability when I lost my old gymnastic club. I have recently joined a new sports team and discovered a new group of friends and social life through this.
Love and belonging
Friendship – I have lots of good friends and can access them very regularly.
Intimacy- isn’t what it was pre stroke; there’s nothing sexually appealing about throwing a dead limb around or asking to wait until I can get into a comfortable position, I can’t really hug or cuddle either.
Family – see above
Sense of connection – I do feel well connected, I’ve got Rich, family, friends and the internet at my fingertips.
Self esteem
Confidence – pre stroke I was very confident, I had a great career, looked good, had interesting hobbies and great friends, losing all these things and living with a constant 90% frustration is damaging to confidence.
Achievement- see above, while I know the post stroke progress is something to be proud of I don’t always feel like it’s an achievement.
Respect of others – this is hard, some people respect the time, effort and difficulty my life now is, sadly it isn’t everyone and some people want to use it as an excuse to criticise me which is damaging to live with.
The need to be a unique individual- I certainly recognise I’m unique but is it something I “own” or am proud of? Not really. I think most people in my situation would be the same.
Self actualisation
Morality- I am a strong moraled man, I always have been. I look for good in the world, I try to be good.
Creativity- sadly I don’t have a creative cell within me and never have done.
Spontenaity- it’s difficult to be spontaneous when restricted by speed, ability and passion amongst other things.
Acceptance – remains an ongoing process, I have, with help, accepted where I am, it fires me to do other things too.
Experience purpose – I have tried to use my stroke experience to help others (e.g this blog) I mentally have a plan of more I could do but don’t currently have the resources for this.
Meaning and inner potential – I’m trying to find a post stroke new meaning, I have lots of potential and ideas but just can’t get there as yet
We’ve been brought to our knees We’ve been so ill at ease There are no guarantees But you know life goes on This too shall pass away Bring new and different days We need to change our ways And right our wrongs
I’ve just returned from a great little European roadtrip visiting theme parks with 2 good friends.
I’ve always been a theme park, rollercoaster and ride fan; in fact it’s how I ended up with my two closet friends. Our shared interest which spilled into a social life and long standing friendship.
Both the others have travelled to a lot of parks outside of the uk; often regaling stories of places they have been. Many years ago we had planned a small European road trip together so I could see a couple of these parks and spend some time together, we never quite got round to it.
After my stroke in 2023 I thought that hobby was closed off to me, would I ever walk enough to cover the terrain of theme parks, could I physically get into ride cars etc and maintain a safe position that wouldn’t upset safety conscious ride staff. Late 2023 the 3 of us did an annual trip to a uk park, using a wheelchair, but it worked. We agreed beyond that experience; once I was walking better we’d do the road trip.
Ian, possibly the most sensible of the 3 of us planned the trip.
We’d leave on a Thursday, get an overnight ferry to the Netherlands, have a day at Efteling theme park, drive on to Germany and Phantasialand where we would stay in one of their hotels for 3 nights. Which would give us 2 full days to explore their park. After our last night, we would make a return to the ferry hitting one last park in the Netherlands on the way there.
Arrive back in the Uk Tuesday morning and back home lunchtime.
It would be my first trip “solo” (I.e without Rich who was going away simultaneously to visit his mother) I’d have to navigate environments I don’t know, be mostly self sufficient. I could, of course, ask my willing friends for help but I resent feeling like a burden, on the run up I would message and say ‘it it’s a buffet you’ll have to help me carry things’ to positive responses and ‘stop worrying’
As planned I got collected on Thursday afternoon, after my hydrotherapy. I trundled out the door with an easy open back pack for day to day use. A small suitcase which i had almost packed myself.
We drove to the ferry, I’ve only ever done cruises, never a ferry, and had a mental image of a rusty ship combined with an aged bingo hall interior, I was thankfully wrong.
Friday morning we docked on the Netherlands and headed to a park that had been mentally on my radar for years: Efteling. I knew it was large, had a couple of well regarded coasters and some infamous dark rides. We entered, my panic about capability sat in the forefront of my thoughts.
After a handful of rides with zero issue, not always needing the disabled access queues either. I decided to try a rollercoaster called Baron 1898 a vertical drop coaster with some inversions (upside down bits). I got to the station, sat in an allocated seat, closed the restraint and found a way to clasp my affected hand with my good. Convinced I was going to be asked to get off.
The ride does a great pre show, steep hill, pauses above the drop then releases into a hole . As it shot out of the other side I was aware that I was laughing, not my limited and quiet usual, post stroke, laugh but a gutteral, noisy gufaw. The mix of adrenaline and joy from the ride, the release from stress about getting on the ride and pre trip concerns all hit in one moment. I felt my mouth wobble at the edges and a tear start to build “you can’t cry on a ride Ben” I scolded myself. For the first time using an emotional management technique on a good emotion.
Baron 1898 😍
Feeling confident and empowered we spent the rest of the day going on every ride without thought. The park was huge, bythe end of our day I had walked 6 miles.
After a water display show to finish the day we left the park plowing onto our next park, country and our hotel. Feeling a little guilty that one friend was stuck with all the driving as I can only drive my adapted car, we soon passed into the German border, eventually landing at Phantasialand and our hotel base. An African themed hotel to match an area within the park.
The hotel was beautiful, it looked authentic. After checking in, I let our friends unpack while I had a quiet, reflective, drink in the bar.
Great hotel
The next morning it became apparent one of my friends had been ill overnight and certainly wouldn’t want to have breakfast or do rides.
The remaining 2 of us went for breakfast then into the park, we early on ticked off an indoor coaster where the staff member noted me getting in slowly and rather than challenge me just let us go then met me at the offload with the kind offer of a hand.
I wish I could say it all went that smoothly. After a morning of no issues, after lunch I hit my first snag. After waiting for a ride, boarding and positioning as I had done for the past day and a half a staff member noted my awkward hand positioning and asked if I was able to demonstrate I could open and close my hand, annoyingly I cannot and told the person; deciding I was better being honest. at this point I was asked to leave, I was obviously upset feeling embarrassed and frustrated but I completely understood the staff members perspective. I took myself for a little walk to regulate myself, it might have included a beer in a quiet spot to wait for my friends. We did a couple of othe rides with no issues on our way back to the hotel.
That evening the 2 of us who weren’t ill had a great dinner in the hotel with an unusual meat grill, where I ate buffalo and kangaroo. After dinner, Once again joined by our 3rd, we went for a walk to the bar in the adjacent hotel which was lovely and offered great rooftop views of a thunderstorm which had rolled in.
The following day we all went back to the park again, my confidence a little shaken and electing not to try the bigger rides. We did try some we’d missed the previous day including an outstanding river rapids ride.
After another busy day we had our last night in the hotel preparing to return home the next day, pit-stropping at another theme park en route, which again turned out well and with no issues.
We returned to the ferry that afternoon for another crossing home.
Arriving back at my house the following morning, absolutely exhausted. I had a couple of days to rest and reflect on the experience: how much I had managed to do, the independence I’d demonstrated and the joy it had all brought. Let’s see where my next adventures take me. I’d had some small, fleeting frustrations which were mainly observations of “oh I can’t do that” but was able to process them in a healthy way
Huge thanks to I&J for taking me away, helping when I needed it and the laughter
Me, I and J. All clearly thrilled by some boat ride.
We were up and down and barely made it over.
But id go back and ride that rollercoaster.
It was fun when we were young and now we’re older
Those days that are the worst, they seem to glow now.
Today is a weird day; I’ve felt a bit emotionally wobbly for the past week or so. Today marks 2 years since the stroke.
I remember vividly the first few days and weeks convinced my life was over.
I’m pleased to say I was wrong.
In just the past 7 days I have:
Worked, almost clinically
Cooked a meal (with help)
Shopped
Walked miles upon miles
Walked the dog
Hoovered and mopped my house
Spent time with friends
Had some heart to heart, heavy conversations with lots of people
Trained with a sports club, in prep for an upcoming competitive match; discussing potential further plans too
Visited friends , staying over night
Played with their children, sang with them, laughed lots,
Sat in a beer garden.
Had a nice lunch with my family.
Did lots of rehab therapy all self guided.
The man 2 years ago laid sobbing in a hospital bed would never believe the same man would be able to do all this.
I’m still angry it happened. I’ve taught myself so much resilience and determination, I don’t often admit it but I’m bloody proud of myself. There’s been dark times, frustrations, falls, fails and fatigue; but somehow I’m still here, fighting and progressing.
I’ve needed an entire army of people stood with me, family, friends, work mates, therapists, understanding ears and I will never get a chance to repay all of that.
I’m going to bed tonight high in hopes and life.
They told me that I vanished They told me that I had it They told me that I’m gone I told them, “Don’t panic” When you’ve done it this long And you’ve seen magic And you know it won’t kill you Even when the whole world doubts it
Got another shot to pull off the impossible
There’s no need to cry for me I’m a fighter, fighter You can’t take my voice from me I will rise up, rise up
So what are you waiting for? I ain’t ready to die yet The pain is where faith is born Are you alive yet? Are you alive yet? Are you alive?
A selection of lyrics from: Chant ~ Macklemore and Tones and I 2024
There’s been many a deep conversations over the past 2 years and many quotes and phrases stuck with me; here’s a few of the wisest things I’ve been told and/or landed well, presented in no particular order.
Chin up, chest out, smiles on. By M one of my favourite nurses from in patient times. He had been a firefighter before a nurse and his old firefighting boss would allegedly tell the team before they went into a difficult situation: chin up, chest out, smiles on. He’d kept it as a life motto and told it to me regularly,
This isn’t the end of your story just the end of this chapter; go and Write your new ones. The same nurse as above did a very lengthy discharge document on the day I went home, we’d built an excellent rapport during my stay, we’d talked about what I anticipated my future being and what I wanted to do, it was quite an emotional conversation and he ended with that statement, a massive hug and wave as I was wheeled to an ambulance to finally return home.
Semper ad meliora; a Latin phrase meaning always onwards towards better things. I forget how I came across it, but I love it, if I could have a tattoo (thanks blood thinners) it would be that. I have a strong belief things will continue to improve.
There’s no“just” in what you do. While explaining how I’ve adapted working to a very senior colleague I explained “now I just do…” to which they said “there’s no just in what you’re doing: further elaboration meant they were saying I was still working at a high level and to not belittle my own contribution and efforts.
Not broken, just different.
While retelling a story of a recent experience I described it as “there’s many things on me broken but not that” to which they thoughtfully responded “you’re not broken you’re just different” and it made me smile, I like the wording and while I often feel broken to be told I’m not gave me a huge boost that I needed.
Look at where we started, look at where we got to Wasn’t gonna die, more life in the arsenal Got another shot to pull off the impossible
There’s no need to cry for me I’m a fighter, fighter You can’t take my voice from me I will rise up, rise up
Pre stroke I was known for being a talker, I remember many occasions of people asking me to pause to take a breath.
In the immediate hours post stroke I had the scary experience of not being able to communicate at all.
While in my first stay on ICU I was assessed by a speech and language therapist; mainly to see if I could safely return to solid foods, which took a couple of days.
I was apparently very quiet but I know I was struggling to talk. The SALT set me going with vocal and breathing exercises to get my diaphragm and vocal cords working again, they too came back fairly quickly. I was able to talk especially to people who had tuned into me.
After 6 months someone pointed out that I was monotone in my speech and often running out of breath, I had a referral to another SALT who turned out to be absolutely brilliant.
We met during a physio session, so while doing intense physical work I was also making silly noises and trying to shout which felt silly; after this we did 1:1 sessions. I had daily “homework” making noises and varying volume changes. I would sit and do these, regularly scaring our poor dog.
There was a huge upturn almost immediately. I started to find the breathing aspect much easier.
I was discharged from the service pretty quickly, both of us satisfied my speech was better and that tone might come later on after continued usage.
It was noted by a handful of people that my patience to wait to speak had changed and I would often interrupt a conversation which upset me; I hate to think I’ve been rude or that I had changed into a worse person.
I don’t find speaking as fluent and easy as it was pre stroke. I often have to give serious consideration on what I want to say, i dislike the phrase ‘brain fog’ but it’s actually an appropriate description for how I feel.
Combine the brain fog, attention to breath control, observing to make sure it’s an ok time to speak and it impacts my speed at being able to respond so conversations feel more stunted, I don’t have the same quick witted repertoire with natural back and forths.
It’s hard to explain this to people, especially because I expect from an outside perspective I don’t appear to have much issue.
People will regularly interrupt me, talk over and sometimes ignore me unaware how much effort it actually takes for me to speak and don’t understand why it upsets me when they do those things.
I’ve started to find I can “shout” and it feel quite natural. Tone remains pretty much the same; my laugh is non existent, being a surprise when it does happen.
This is surely not what you thought it would be I lose myself in a daydream Where I stand and say
Don’t say yes, run away now I’ll meet you when you’re out of the church at the back door Don’t wait, or say a single vow You need to hear me out And they said, “Speak now”
Pre amble: it’s took a while to think how to phrase this post; At times writing it felt (and likely reads) like I’m writing about a friend who has passed away; which I suppose is a good analogy and surprisingly accurate. I’m writing about a man who suddenly ceased to exist, I remember him with a pang of grief and Sadness; possibly with Rose tinted glasses and a nostalgia that I’m aware might be misplaced.
I was confident, loud, light and bright. When I entered a room you’d know. I’d say hello, I’d hug, I’d move around at speed. I’d bounce around doing lots of things at once. I’d talk at a million miles an hour and full of questions.
I’ve asked friends for examples of my character pre stroke to share.
Me, my 2 best friends in a hotel room for a night after a few beers but a strict (Covid) policy of remaining in room and silence by 10pm. We fell into the room at 9;59 and I wanted a cup of tea. The tray on the table was devoid of tea bags. Unable to leave the room and go to reception I tried to phone reception, however the room phone was broken. We ended with me, in just my underwear, hanging out of a hotel room window trying, in vain, to shout to reception that I wanted tea bags. this, to me, was peak “old Ben” silly, in fits of laughter and fun to be around.
Once sat in a pub I could hear a person around the corner laughing loudly with a laugh that sounded like a bird squawk, so I started squawking back and the pub started to sound like an aviary only making the original person laugh more; me and my friend in tears with laughter, making bird noises, relaxed, silly, loud, content.
Queuing to get into a night club in the cold, chatting with a female security person on the door, complaining I was cold and trying to flirt my way inside. I ended up wrapped in the coat of the security person having a hug; flirty, chatty, relaxed and confident
Coming across a series of posters from a David Williams book about a boy called Ben who liked dancing
My face says it all about how much fun I was
Those wasted nights are not wasted I remember every one I know I used to be crazy That’s ’cause I used to be young
You tell me time has done changed me That’s fine, I’ve had a good run I know I used to be crazy That’s ’cause I used to be young
I recognise some stroke survivors see their stroke as an almost re-birth and “new me” event; I’m pleased for them and that they have that peace.
I couldn’t be further from that opinion , mine feels like a kidnap or murder. The real me was disposed of, an imposter stole my body pushing the real me into a dark corner of my head to watch the world play out, but I’m still here; observing. The imposter has stolen my body.he’s let my hard work; my career, my hobbies and physicality dissolve into nothingness, he’s reduced my humour, kindness and joy. He’s stripped away my confidence. Occasionally I get a bit of headway and can get in control long enough to display that some of those qualities do still exist from where I’m sat in my husk of an unfamiliar body, looking out miles away from the eyes, looking out longingly at a life lost but the imposter always wins. I feel like when Spider-Man has venom trying to control his body.
Me and my imposter / spider man and venom
The constant wants and desires I have are closed down by the imposter; I’ve learnt to live with a lot of his control but the lack of freedom and independence is crushing on a daily basis.
Late March 2025 (20 months post stroke) we spent the weekend with some good friends, eating and drinking too much. Late in the evening I was having a bit of a heart to heart with one of the friends who had seen me at rock bottom in November 24; he commented that during the day we’d had, I had been animated, vocal and my infamous cheeky grin had broken through a few times. It was the phrasing of the old me breaking through that sat in my head to write this, thanks RSG x
I tried carrying the weight of the world But I only have two hands Hope I get the chance to travel the world But I don’t have any plans Wish that I could stay forever this young Not afraid to close my eyes Life’s a game made for everyone And love is a prize
So wake me up when it’s all over When I’m wiser and I’m older All this time I was finding myself, and I Didn’t know I was lost
Note: this was edited about 6 hours after publishing to create some points of clarity, add a song quote and remove some identifiers
I have played this day over and over in my head for 18 months wishing that one time it would play out differently or that I could change the outcome. ; I’m told this a common trauma /ptsd behaviour. I can’t change what happened but accepting it has happened is good foundation ; so I’m starting by writing it out.
The 11th of May 2023. I woke up, in a bed that wasn’t mine in a room that wasn’t mine which had a lot of background noise, I was in a hospital where I’d spent the night to prepare for my long anticipated cardiac surgery “it’s today, you’ve committed and you’re doing this” my inner monologue said.
I had 2 bottles of a pre operative drink to get through; I’d had 2 the night before and they tasted horrible. I forced them down with my stomach feeling like a rock
A pleasant support worker cameober to say good morning and we had a funny chat about pubic hair that she wanted to shave, mine, not hers, for surgical infection reasons . I wasn’t especially invested in this conversation so made an excuse and went to the bathroom.
I had an absolutely horrendous toilet experience; me and my stomach don’t cope well with stress and I’m sure the pre op drink was evil . I showered and while I was drying off could hear conversation about me on the other side of the bathroom door. I put my surgical gown on, opened the door and 2 theatre staff were stood like security waiting to escort me to theatre. We walked down to their recovery area where I was seated for a short time before going to the anaesthetic room.
I climbed myself onto the operating table. The anaesthetist who I’d met the night before told me he’d been thinking overnight and had a slight change of plan to what we’d previously discussed: mainly he wanted to place a central line (a big drip that goes through your neck to your heart through the vena cava, big artery) it allows anaesthetic drugs and fluids to be given quickly, it offers additional monitoring and is highly useful in high level care afterwards such as ICU.
I knew it meant the anaesthetist was concerned “if he’s worried why are you still doing this? It’s not too late to stop, jump up and walk out ” I told myself that doing that would be very dramatic but I also knew I needed the surgery for my heart to be safer and I’d waited over a year to get to this point, “shut up and carry on you’ll soon be anaesthetised and not know”.
And true to that I didn’t know;the surgery just sort of happened.
I’ve got a blank space in my memory at this point.
My next real memory is being on a bed, not the operating trolley I’d previously been on. The back was raised up so I was half sitting, I felt like I was sliding down the bed and uncomfortable so tried to reposition myself pressing my hands into the bed to shuffle up, but nothing happened. My brain slowly decoded that my left arm hadn’t moved. Still uncomfortable I decided to try digging my heels in and pushing up, again, no movement and my left leg hadn’t moved at all. I tried moving just my leg but zero happened.
There’s more memory blank spots sparodically around this time. At some point, I think around lunch time Rich arrived and sat to my right. I remember trying to speak and there being silence out “oh shit Ben, think how you can communicate? ” I used my right hand to grab Richard’s and started scratching letters on the back of his hand hoping he’d understand what I was doing; I can’t remember at this point what I wanted to say, but I know I was absolutely terrified. I tried to move myself again and for a third time nothing happened I realised I could raise my left leg a little if I really tried. I wanted someone to look at my leg and arm to work out what was wrong so started thrashing as much as I could with the thought process of “they’ll see it moving and know it’s not right” but that didn’t happen, instead a while later Rich flagged it and was told it was me in pain so they would get some painkiller. “I’m not in pain you idiots” I screamed internally, paralysed in bed I watched as a nurse drew up a strong opiod painkiller to my left.
Time went on, I’ve got more black spots.
I started piecing things together
“You aren’t in pain no matter what they say, your right side is active just your left isn’t and you can’t speak.
Oh shit, shit, shit this is a textbook neurological event. You need help. How do I tell someone if I can’t speak?”
More black spots.
At some point a doctor appeared and stood at the foot of my bed
“Ben we think you’ve had a neurological event and want to scan you and maybe move you to another hospital to treat”
I was aware it had gotten dark out and my parents were going to be out at a long anticipated event, I didn’t want them disturbing. I’d been adamant they should go when they’d considered cancelling.
“No shit I’ve had a Neuro event , crack on then” i willed I grabbed Richard’s hand scratching the letters C and T because I once had a meltdown in an mri and vowed to never do another, I was panicked thinking I was already limited in movement, unable to communicate and possibly about to be put in a position that made me uncomfortable. Rich confirmed it was a CT and to breathe through it.
“You might never move again, you might never speak, work or do anything” my thoughts raced. I mouthed the word Sorry to Rich as I was wheeled away for the scan thinking our lives were over.
I don’t remember much more, some conversations around it being a stroke but I couldn’t be treated at the very nearby neurosurgery centre . I felt myself crumbling and getting angry. If only I could talk and try to help; I could phone my contacts in the neurosurgery centre and plead my case; I could say I’d been aware of the event for a while
The blank tape continues.
My memory from this day has lots of this
I know my parents came at some point in the evening But it’s all jumbled from here. the following days of intensive care just happened around me; I’ve been told the blank spots and blurred days are essentially where my brain went “oh no this is horrible I won’t ever want to remember this” so it stops recording. This was an analogy from my first psychologist that I really liked and has stuck with me
When the silence isn’t quiet And it feels like it’s getting hard to breathe And I know you feel like dying But I promise we’ll take the world to its feet And move mountains Bring it to its feet And move mountains
It’s one of life’s “things” that I find a bit frustrating. I’m well known, professionally and locally. I’m currently trying to pick up new hobbies and getting out doing more experiences.
I am constantly faced with the same questions:
What happened to you?
What have you done to your arm? people assume I have an arm injury
What’s your history?
I am, pretty much, very open; I’d be a hypocrite if I wasn’t considering, well, this *gestures at blog*
So I don’t mind answering but it nearly always leads into more questions or a bigger conversation which I don’t enjoy and find tiresome.
Yes I am young to have had a stroke, yes it did happen in my 30s.
Yes I do look “ well” because I’ve worked hard.
No it didn’t just happen; it was during surgery
Yes that is rubbish
Maybe there was something that could have been done but I don’t really know.
Yes it was very scary; it still scares me now.
Yes there is a legal case ongoing, no I absolutely don’t want to talk about it.
Yes I do work and drive with an adapted car.
I got back to work Just under a year but I gave up a lot of the role.
Thanks for your interest and concern.
Tough like the scuff on a pair of old leather boots Like the blue-collar, red-dirt attitude (yeah, yeah) Like a .38 made out of brass Tough like the stuff in my grandpa’s glass (grandpa’s glass) Life’s gonna do what it does (ooh) Sure as the good Lord’s up above I’m cut like a diamond shinin’ in the rough (shine, shine) Tough
Stroke and mirrors 