The Dining Room

It was my first day at Parkwood and my first supper. Lunch and supper was eaten in a common dining room. It was a room that had windows facing the elevators. My dinner was a ‘modified diet’, aka baby food consistency.

A few things happened on that first day and a few weeks later that has stuck with me this entire time.

The first was the unexpected arrival of my mom. She had mentioned the day before she couldn’t make into London. Therefore I wasn’t expecting her, to see her familiar silhouette walk off the elevator was so overwhelming. The sun was shining through the windows behind her and was casting a halo like glow around her. It was the stuff you see in movies. Music should have accompanied that moment. I was so happy I couldn’t stop crying long enough to eat. Eventually they took me to my room since I was more than likely disturbing others.

The second thing I think of often happened a few weeks later, just as I was getting in the swing of things and making some progress. I was eating in the dining room and could hear a woman crying. It was a gut wrenching cry. It was all too familiar cry to me, since I made that noise on a regular basis. The word in the dining room was a type of hushed buzzing. I finally heard that the patient was being transferred to a nursing home the next day.

Was that her destiny? The miracle maker of a hospital didn’t work for her. I never met her and am completely unaware of her condition. I can say that my condition was limited and the overall prognosis was not positive. I can say that I had huge support and many people telling me things would get better. I had the advantage of people telling me stories of people achieving things that doctor’s didn’t feel very optimistic about. I’ll bet she didn’t believe nor had the support I did. Telling me it was going to get better. I think of that day when I am feeling sorry for myself and need to be reminded that things could be so much worse. Sharing that right now is making me appreciate today for what it is and not what it could have been had I not hd the stroke

I often referred to dinner time as the Swiss Chalet club. Which would make my mom furious since she likes Swiss Chalet Dinner was at a strikingly early 4:30. I made the comparison to Swiss Chalet because whenever I ate at the restaurant there was a room full of older people. The dining room was full of older people except for 3 of us being the youngest by 30 years. Sadly the other two other younger patients left soon after I was admitted. So it was me with the older people. The food was nowhere near Swiss Chalet


The meeting of everyone in the dining room allowed for discussions. This didn’t happen on a regular basis but one patient ‘Gladys’ was very vocal and initiated conversations while she was a patient. (I would see many patients come and go because my stay was so long. 51/2 months) Gladys would ask how everyone was doing in their therapies. I suspect she was trying to compare notes and seeing where everyone was and how they were doing up until that point as a way to measure her own success. Initially I was hesitant to share since my recovery was said to be out of the ordinary, likely since I was so young compared to everyone else but soon I realized it was giving her hope. Hope and then she would start to believe it could be done. So I thought if it’s giving hope then age difference be dammed. Believing in herself was half the battle. Mind over matter.


Two good friends of mine were getting married a week after I was admitted. It wasn’t unusual to be allowed to attend different events or be allowed to go home for the weekends. It was unusual I was allowed to go to the ceremony so early on in my stay.
Another friend of mine made sure I looked good. She outfitted me from head to toe. She did the shopping, made a few selections and let me pick which I liked the best. I know she does not want to be mentioned by name. As trivial as it may seem it was a big deal. I went to the wedding self conscious of the wheel chair (and necessary head rest) but not by my outfit. So thank you.