I think I can, I think I can
It’s been a long haul.
These 18 months have seemed like a lifetime for me and my family. All of the re-learning, all of the temper tantrums, all of the worries have taken its toll on me.
Here’s the thing, my stroke has given me reason to dig for every last scrap of stick-to-it-ness I have in me.
It’s led me to believe that if you can dream it, then you are half way there.
I would like to share with you the backbone of my recovery.
I rely heavily on each of the 4.
Prioritise Your Learning
No one has the same stake in your recovery as you. You hold the magic powers in your hand. No doctor, no therapist no other survivor can do it for you.
This past summer, I was trying like mad to fit in all of the therapeutic suggestions that were hitting me from all sides. Each and every day, I would hear from a generous soul who had a suggestion for me.
If I would have worked 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, I would still not be able to fulfill all of the thoughtful, well-meaning recommendations that were bestowed on me.
I wanted like mad to read this and that book because it was on a fellow stroke survivor’s list. Or to try tapping because it was proven to help a friend. Or to learn a foreign language and see my cognitive abilities soar.
I had to wade thru all of these influences only to realise that recovery doesn't mean the same thing for all people. Sure, I learned tapping and actually found the ceremony of it all greatly positive.
However, it takes time. And takes time away from other therapies.
I had to find what works for me. I had to choose.
So a year later, my speech has improved significantly while my ability to do math on-the-fly has fallen by the way side.
My cognitive ability has grown, while my spastic, crampy foot has only procceded to irritate.
The point is, if you don’t prioritise your therapies, you can get lost.
Lost on a sea of should-nots and would-nots, treading water instead of stream lining.
I learned from that summer that I must focus my efforts, find my meaning and, hence, my way forward.
If you are having trouble with finding your passion click here for my free downloadable worksheet to help you find your way.
Don’t give up
If you know me or read my blogs, then you have probably heard me go on about that doctor who flagrantly said to me ‘You can walk. You can talk. You should be happy.’
Well, I wasn’t happy. In fact, I wanted more. I deserved more.
I know the feeling that creeps in when you doubt yourself, the progress that you've made and destroys any good feelings you potentially have stored. First it’s 3 months and then you hit the 6 month marker and, looking back, you ask yourself disparagingly do you see any progress?
And then you feel like giving up.
After my brain injury, I suffered hemi-paresis. Things which I took for granted prior, like putting in my contacts, cutting an apple or cuddling my children represented something of wonderment for me.
I tried occupational therapy, but sitting at my dining table finding beans in sand didn’t really spark any meaning with me. So, after a couple sessions I decided that I could make better use of my time.
According to MedicineNet, neuroplasticity means ‘The brain's ability to reorganize itself by forming new neural connections throughout life. Neuroplasticity allows the neurons (nerve cells) in the brain to compensate for injury and disease and to adjust their activities in response to new situations or to changes in their environment.’
It dosn’t say how long it will take or what it will look like, but the possibilities are seemingly endless.
Look forward. Do the work. Give the neurons something to latch on to.
I’ve re-taught my fingers to do most things, like applying mascara, cutting, putting earrings in. It’s not always pretty, but it is getting better over time. As long as I keep plugging away, I’m determined that I will be able to leave my house without looking like a raccoon.
Keep good track of your progress, although you might not see it daily. For a downloadable recovery journal please click here.
Get out of your own way
I have had to fight for each day, each minute of my recovery.
Getting out of our own way is not something that comes easy for us stroke survivors.
Just this morning, I was abruptly taken out of my routine and, as all hell was about to break loose, I had to reel it in, take a moment and re-focus.
But, I couldn’t do this on my own. We are broken in this way.
It takes a very special person to be our halo when we are acting like the devil. Someone who can hold the mirror up in front of us and truly make us see what’s important.
That happens plenty in the span of a day. As brain injury survivors we tend to perseverate on that thing that took us out of our routine and latch on to it tightly. We rarely have a chance to see what’s real.
It is the same when we encounter a hater, someone who make us feel like gum stuck to the bottom of our shoe.
I am reminded of the time when I answered a phone call from someone who I probably shouldn't have. As I was going all umbrella on her there was no one to stop the verbal truths from sprouting from my mouth.
I no longer have a relationship with her.
Instead of seeing red when a hater hates or when the day is going topsy-turvy, we need to bring back our shades of grey, our little voice inside that gives options.
This is a particularly hard one, but with meditation, mantras-of-the moment and awareness, I am working on it.
Advocate for YOU
I know that recovery is an uphill battle and to fight this battle we have to give it our all. That means, if you disagree with a doctor, a therapist or another actively involved person in your recovery, educate yourself and find a solution.
After 12 months of hobbling around on a spastic, crampy foot, several failed attempts to make my situation understood and taken seriously by several neurologists and training like mad with numerous physical therapists I may have found a solution.
Just because it is not easy or straightforward doesn’t get you off the hook. It’s your body! Your recovery!
Just as easy as it was for that doctor who said flippantly to me, ‘You can walk. You can talk. Just be happy.’ I stored that negative force and made it work for me. I knew I would find a way to walk without a limp again.
Patience is key. As is rewarding yourself. Saying thank you to your body, your soul and your mind is an act of kindness. Click here for my downloadable self care menu.
So, even if I find myself in another 18 months, still slogging thru the effects of my stroke, my hope is that I continue to be that strong willed, fire-eater of a girl, cooking up tenacity as a main dish.