A Stroke of Luck

Today, of all days, I have a lot to be thankful for. Some healthy thoughts inbound...?

One year ago today, April 30th 2021, I began a new journey. One which would see me?challenged physically, mentally, and emotionally. Doctors would say I suffered a “lateral medullary stroke from a vertebral artery dissection”.

I would say, “Bummer.”?

Clearly, I'm making this look good.

Shortly after, I became the lucky resident for my extended stay at the Kennestone Hospital Resort and Spa with it's wonderful rehab and nursing staff. My relaxing adventure was spent re-learning the “taken for granted” abilities of walking, talking, and swallowing. I have lived a life with a bunch of near-death experiences, much of those being on the receiving end of enemy rifles and artillery. But as a foodie, coffee, and bourbon snob you take away my ability to swallow and suddenly fear has a new meaning.?Give me coffee or give me...

For the next several weeks, my eyes and brain battled for dominance in a war I didn’t know I was a part of which resulted in near constant vertigo and nausea. Sick bags and blind folds were new acquaintances. Add to that ice chips, daytime TV (with a signal quality that indicated it had been first bounced off the sun before returning as a grainy low res version of its former self), and the endless beeping sounds, day and night, from the machines making sure that I was both alive and annoyed. But the injections and needles? Pass. Drip tube feeding? No thank you. Bed pans??Don’t get me started.

Just keep going and keep moving. ?

One year later I have largely returned to the life I was accustomed to before the stroke. The only outward difference is the sound of my voice which, given some of the alternatives (*ahem* death), is fine by me. I’m sure there’s some horror films out there looking for voice-overs.?

Not everyone afflicted by this random event is as fortunate as I am; my heart goes out to those dealing with similar issues and a poor prognosis (Wallenberg Syndrome folks, unite!). Mentally, there was nothing to do but move forward and remain focused on recovery – more for my wife and kids to not be burdened any more than they have to be. I set my mind and my temperament towards an acceptance of my situation, an sincere appreciation for those that were helping me,?and a positive drive to overcome. ?

With the help of some amazing medical professionals, my family and friends, extended Primrose Schools family who helped us greatly, and a partner who refused to give up on me: I am doing amazing. Sure, I owe a thank you to modern medicine but my wife is the single most solid aspect of my recovery; I owe my life to her care and emotional support. I can’t imagine what I would have done or who I would be right now without her.??

I now go through my days with a deeper appreciation for the time that I have and the way I interact with those around me. When my kids ask me to play: I do it. When there’s an experience to be had that reminds me of what it means to breathe: I do it. It’s a little more like ‘Yes’ day. Of course, I still waste some of my time or have brief moments of frustration but those are fleeting thanks to a deep sense of gratitude for the time I have and the ability to experience more that life has to offer – the fun and the moments that challenge us and make us stronger.?

?I hope to forever be on this?journey of appreciation. My deficiencies are now a part of who I am.

I will never be the same. And I love that.?