I’m back after my hiatus
Just a quick note about the fundraiser and then I’ll get back to my story.
To know you have made a positive impact on someone’s life is indescribable. I’m hooked.
I had the privilege to meet someone in a very similar situation than me. On first sight I saw he was cautiously walking with a walker his speech was at times difficult to undertand. (just like me at the same point in my recovery) After talking with him I found we shared even the same type of stroke and some of the same effects. He didn’t know me when I was at that point in my recovery so he won’t see the comparison.
From that meeting(we wouldn't have if it weren't for that talk) and discussions I took two things away from that encounter. First I have the ability to reassure others because I know it will get better. Of a stroke and other challengiing times in life. Secondly I was beginning to lose sight of the progress that I have made. I have a much greater appreciation for where I am now from where I've been. It isn’t 100% but it is a 100% improvement over where I was. So as much help that I was ....I gained so much more. Thanks Rich. I hope you will always believe and have hope that it will get better because it did for me and it will for you!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
My time at Parkwood
Was Work.....Work....Work (get better work) I am very appreciative at my length of stay. Doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to pack it in and go home. The reason a lengthier stay was in my favour...a longer stay meant more intense therapy and better recovery. I was in bad shape and things were NOT progressing as fast as I wanted them to. I have never been a very patient person.
I will never forget the day when I hoisted myself up to standing position from the wheel chair and I could feel that my balance was better than the day before. It wasn’t a huge improvement but considering I didn’t have any the day before a little was better than none at all. This meant I was going to get better...how much is yet to be seen.
It was soon after that I decided I should transfer myself from the bed to the wheelchair to go to the washroom. My first attempt was a complete flop. More like crash. It was evening and when I was watching TV, I had to go pee. Instead of calling the nurse I decided to do it myself. When Mike had dropped me off that night he had reluctantly left the wheelchair beside the bed within reach so I could attempt this myself. I used the bedrails to help but they weren’t enough support. I fell face first and hit my eye on the corner of the dresser. I still have a small scar. I was a little shook up and I laid on the floor for a second but my initial reaction was and is if you fall you get right back up. My left leg was shaking but I still managed to pull myself up and onto the wheelchair. I wheeled myself to the washroom. After all that was the objective. That is when I saw all the blood running down my face onto my PJ top. I washed the blood off my face went pee and got myself back into bed. I then called the nurse to tell her what happened. There was talk of stitches but they never materialized. If it weren’t for the blood I probably would have continued to ‘transfer myself’
Parkwood was my home away from home since I spent so much time there but it wasn’t one I REALLY wanted to be at but many milestones in my recovery happened there. I was able to eat again. My balance started to return. I was able to do things that I couldn’t before. I did a lot of thinking and self discovery.
Something that is very memorable happened along the way but I finally realized it since a kind aunt put it in words on paper. She wrote something like you’ll do it because you are determined. I had never thought of myself of determined but when it comes to something we want are we all not. Apparently not, but people give up on themselves all the time. Prior to the stroke I was a quitter. That was certainly the easiest way of dealing with the unpleasant. This time it has never occurred to me to stop. Why stop? Let me tell you the alternative was/is not something I wanted to experience ever! The task was daunting but taking it one day at a time with mini goals that would lead to the final goal was the only way to do it and stay sane. After all it was and is a lofty goal.
The people at Parkwood taught me to celebrate even the smallest goal (I didn’t through myself a party or have cake (I would be 400 pounds at least) --just being proud of an accomplishment.
I will never forget the day when I hoisted myself up to standing position from the wheel chair and I could feel that my balance was better than the day before. It wasn’t a huge improvement but considering I didn’t have any the day before a little was better than none at all. This meant I was going to get better...how much is yet to be seen.
It was soon after that I decided I should transfer myself from the bed to the wheelchair to go to the washroom. My first attempt was a complete flop. More like crash. It was evening and when I was watching TV, I had to go pee. Instead of calling the nurse I decided to do it myself. When Mike had dropped me off that night he had reluctantly left the wheelchair beside the bed within reach so I could attempt this myself. I used the bedrails to help but they weren’t enough support. I fell face first and hit my eye on the corner of the dresser. I still have a small scar. I was a little shook up and I laid on the floor for a second but my initial reaction was and is if you fall you get right back up. My left leg was shaking but I still managed to pull myself up and onto the wheelchair. I wheeled myself to the washroom. After all that was the objective. That is when I saw all the blood running down my face onto my PJ top. I washed the blood off my face went pee and got myself back into bed. I then called the nurse to tell her what happened. There was talk of stitches but they never materialized. If it weren’t for the blood I probably would have continued to ‘transfer myself’
Parkwood was my home away from home since I spent so much time there but it wasn’t one I REALLY wanted to be at but many milestones in my recovery happened there. I was able to eat again. My balance started to return. I was able to do things that I couldn’t before. I did a lot of thinking and self discovery.
Something that is very memorable happened along the way but I finally realized it since a kind aunt put it in words on paper. She wrote something like you’ll do it because you are determined. I had never thought of myself of determined but when it comes to something we want are we all not. Apparently not, but people give up on themselves all the time. Prior to the stroke I was a quitter. That was certainly the easiest way of dealing with the unpleasant. This time it has never occurred to me to stop. Why stop? Let me tell you the alternative was/is not something I wanted to experience ever! The task was daunting but taking it one day at a time with mini goals that would lead to the final goal was the only way to do it and stay sane. After all it was and is a lofty goal.
The people at Parkwood taught me to celebrate even the smallest goal (I didn’t through myself a party or have cake (I would be 400 pounds at least) --just being proud of an accomplishment.
Monday, November 1, 2010
The People of Parkwood
Parkwood had all kinds of people/characters. There was Agnes, the little woman who wanted to help no matter, if she was REALLY helping. Gladys the busybody wanting to s to compare her progress. She was alsovery demanding and kept the nurses busy. A woman I love to this day for a comment she made to me. We were in the dining room when she said to me. Such a shame..... you’ re such a pretty girl. Who wouldn’t love that kind of compliment? However my favourite is the ‘crazy’ guy. Also known as the guy with scrambled eggs. (A highly technical term for a head injury)
His stay started out with a lot of commotion. He was causing a disturbance with his yelling and creaming.I was returning from supper at home when I saw the police on the unit. Which had never happened before. Gladys ( she seemed to have her thumb on the pulse of things) informed us that the new guy was being sent to the psych hospital in St. Thomas. Things were calm for a few days until he returned.
Apparently he wasn’t ‘crazy’ just had a head injury (aka scrambled eggs) and when he was readmitted his room was at the end of the hall next to mine. One mornig I had woken up to some loud Def Leppard. He had brought his stereo with him this time and decided to rock out that morning. The stereo was promptly taken away. In the mornings I would see him wandering, more like staggering to and fro, the halls to take care of his personal hhygiene and shower. He would have messy hair and mismatching PJ’s that just didn’t look right. Even though he had the opportunity to shave and change he would stay in his PJ’s and not shave. As he got better his appearance began to change. It became more clean cut. The staggering reverted back to just walking. He exchanged his askew PJ’s for clothes.
I found out why he was hollering and yelling. Calling out for people help him. Not just a few times but for hours. The problem.....he was secured to the bed. He couldn’t be trusted with his own safety (and likely others) As he started to settle down he wasn’t secured any longer but had a nurse at the door guarding him. Eventually I would see him in the lounge area playing pool with a recreational therapist. He always had a staff member with him.
One day during his fuzzy times, he appeared at my door while I was watching TV and wanted to know if I wanted to go to a dance. (I wonder where he got that idea?) I replied that I didn’t dance since I was in a wheelchair. ‘That’s OK’ he said ‘I’ll push you around’ Why would anyone want me to go to a dance???? I likely was the best prospact since everyone else on the unit was almost 30 years older. Well at leasr someone asked.
He may have been there a few weeks. Time wasn’t that all important to me. Each day was much like the one before. I heard him talking to doctors trying to convince them he was fine since he knew the date and where he was. A few days later I heard him begging to go home. I’m sure time was standing still for him. I was happy for him at least he got to go home. I would stay for a few more months.....
His stay started out with a lot of commotion. He was causing a disturbance with his yelling and creaming.I was returning from supper at home when I saw the police on the unit. Which had never happened before. Gladys ( she seemed to have her thumb on the pulse of things) informed us that the new guy was being sent to the psych hospital in St. Thomas. Things were calm for a few days until he returned.
Apparently he wasn’t ‘crazy’ just had a head injury (aka scrambled eggs) and when he was readmitted his room was at the end of the hall next to mine. One mornig I had woken up to some loud Def Leppard. He had brought his stereo with him this time and decided to rock out that morning. The stereo was promptly taken away. In the mornings I would see him wandering, more like staggering to and fro, the halls to take care of his personal hhygiene and shower. He would have messy hair and mismatching PJ’s that just didn’t look right. Even though he had the opportunity to shave and change he would stay in his PJ’s and not shave. As he got better his appearance began to change. It became more clean cut. The staggering reverted back to just walking. He exchanged his askew PJ’s for clothes.
I found out why he was hollering and yelling. Calling out for people help him. Not just a few times but for hours. The problem.....he was secured to the bed. He couldn’t be trusted with his own safety (and likely others) As he started to settle down he wasn’t secured any longer but had a nurse at the door guarding him. Eventually I would see him in the lounge area playing pool with a recreational therapist. He always had a staff member with him.
One day during his fuzzy times, he appeared at my door while I was watching TV and wanted to know if I wanted to go to a dance. (I wonder where he got that idea?) I replied that I didn’t dance since I was in a wheelchair. ‘That’s OK’ he said ‘I’ll push you around’ Why would anyone want me to go to a dance???? I likely was the best prospact since everyone else on the unit was almost 30 years older. Well at leasr someone asked.
He may have been there a few weeks. Time wasn’t that all important to me. Each day was much like the one before. I heard him talking to doctors trying to convince them he was fine since he knew the date and where he was. A few days later I heard him begging to go home. I’m sure time was standing still for him. I was happy for him at least he got to go home. I would stay for a few more months.....
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