Monthly Archives: April 2015

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My Left Foot

My left ankle might not ever move again on my command, and I might not be able to spread apart or wiggle my toes.  I have foot drop.

This is a terrifying thought to me for many reasons, as well as a fact that I might need to come to accept.  Yes, I do realize that it hasn’t even been a full four months (it will be on May 6), since my life exploded (a PE, two seizures, two strokes, and cardiac arrest for an hour) in January.  And, I do know that some people get movement back a year later, and some times even two years later.  So, please don’t hear that I am giving up hope because I am not.

I have hope. hope

But, I also want to not have my expectations up too high because stroke depression is real and I don’t want to slide into it.  After all, strokes are the leading cause of long term disabilities in the United States.

I am working hard every day to accept what has happened to me, and appreciate that I am still here and still have a lot going for me.  This all means that I have a tug-of-war post-copygoing on inside of me and it is not easy.  Part of me is focused on having hope, and part of me is working on accepting what has happened to me.  I’ve been encouraged to just focus on having hope, and I try.  It is just that it is much easier for someone to say that to me than for me to do.

I struggle daily with questions such as:

It has been almost four months, why am I not back to normal? 

All of the rest of my leg has woken up, so why is my foot so insistent on sleeping?

What else haven’t we tried that we can try to get it going?

Did it just move, or did I imagine it?

There are several ways that I work through my tug-of-war:

1. I am quite protective of who I surround myself with because I need to keep having hope.  I can’t spend time being around thoughts and feelings that are negative because it is too easy for me to see my situation as negative.  It isn’t that I don’t share with those who are near me how I am feeling, which is often that I am sad, but I know that I need others to respond positively (which often means just being with me) even if I am crying.

2. I try hard to keep moving.  My older sister said to me when I first woke up in the hospital, that the best thing I could do for my recovery is to keep moving.  I am not sure I fully understood what that meant until recently, and I hear her voice in my head each time I want to just be lazy and do nothing.  I’ve also recently been exploring yoga for foot drop, although I’m terrible at it–still, I am determined.

3. I journal about my feelings related to my left leg.  I have never really spent time journaling about one specific part of my physical body before, but it makes sense for me to do so now.  Yes, my left foot and my need to wear an AFO (ankle and foot orthotic) means that I can’t be outside like I used to, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t go outside. I try to become fascinated by my leg, and notice if it shakes and consider why that might be (am I nervous, etc).  I want my left leg to remember that it is a part of my body, and needs to listen to my brain again.

4. I process through in my mind how much privilege I had when I didn’t have to think about walking, and the fact that I might be able to make a full recovery is in itself another privilege.  I still have many things going for me even if I have a physical disability the rest of my life, so I will be okay if this is “as good as it gets”.

5. I can make a cane look cool…so, who cares if I have to use it the rest of my life.  It helps remind me to stand taller, which is good for my posture.

Still…I really want my left foot to wake up.  064151-high-resolution-dark-blue-denim-jeans-icon-people-things-foot-left-ps

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Seven Lessons I’ve Learned From My Strokes

2015 has been quite the year to say the least.  Lately, I’ve been reflecting on various ways in which I’ve begun to establish a “new normal” for myself.  The following are 7 of those ways:

1. Thank goodness for long arms.  3417c9e4d91ec9173f180293fc781b59They’ve helped me be a state rated basketball player for blocked shots in high school, and make the all-conference team, and they’ve annoyed me when I’ve gone clothes shopping.  But mostly these days, I’m ever grateful for their ability to reach…especially when taking a shower.  I currently get the opportunity to take a shower in a shower chair, which means an extendable shower sprayer had to be installed too.  Ideally, before I take a shower either I or my husband remember to take down the sprayer and set it in the tub, but there has been occasions in which it has been forgotten.  During these situations, I used my arms to get it down without having to stand up, so that I don’t fall over (falling would pretty much be the worst thing that I could do).  My arms have also helped me greatly in putting on my afo, getting dressed, and in completing other tasks that require a long reach.

 

2. The quad cane has multiple uses.  This realization really should have been something that occurred to me after watching the Pixar movie Up for the first time.  29-1But, the many uses of it are coming into full effect now that I have one and use it.  I’ve used it to reach for puzzle pieces accidentally dropped on the floor.  I’ve turned it around to use the hook end to grab my MDH rehab bag.  I’ve used it to open and close various curtains in my house.  One day I will hopefully no longer need the quad cane for walking, but I might just keep it around for its other functions.

 

3. There are added benefits to living in the South.  I returned home at the end of February, and for the first few weeks there seemed to be a direct causation between my need to go to therapy and bad weather.  Unfortunately, this put a kink in my opportunity to take walks outside.  It has since turned to spring 🙂 , and I enjoy walking around the neighborhood.  But, I did notice how envious I was of my friends living in warmer climates during the end of February and most of the month of March.  Of course, I think I would feel different if it was July/August that I was talking about…I’d probably be complaining about the heat.  I fully support all of us getting the month of February off to move to a warmer climate to heal in various ways.

 

4. Fast does not exist.  M.C. Hammer declared Hammer time, and there now exists Sarah time.  It isn’t a matter of me waking up early enough, or not trying.  It is simply that I cannot move fast.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ridiculously slow, but I take a more relaxed pace these days. slow-300x185

 

5. It is sometimes better to not have answers.  When you don’t know why something occurred, you have more time to do things like notice each day how much the spring flowers have grown, the trees have bud, and you appreciate the birds chirping.  When you know the answers to things you often have a responsibility to use those answers to inform your experience in the world, and it can cause you to not notice many things.

 

6. Living takes courage.  courage-1Prior to all of my health concerns, I don’t think I was fully aware of how much courage it took for me to live my every day life.  I certainly realize it now, and more fully appreciate the people who are giving me opportunities to live.  Yes, I look different when I’m walking, but in order for me to get better, I need to be given chances to do what I used to be able to do.  Asking for those opportunities and then taking advantage of them takes all of the courage I have left.  I get that providing me such opportunities might make some people feel uncomfortable for whatever reason, but honestly I can’t help but feel so strongly that those folks need to work on getting over it.  Those issues aren’t mine, they are the other persons and to truly be accepting of others we need to be aware of what is our stuff and what is their stuff and what they are doing to our interactions/relationships.  After all, we are in this world together.

 

7. Learning is painful.  I had a student once who coined the phrase “if you aren’t crying, you aren’t learning”.  I don’t know that crying is necessary, but pain is most certainly necessary.  Both here in Macomb and when I was in Peoria, if I shared with any of my therapists that I was feeling physical pain of any sort, their response was often “Good! Pain is the first feeling to come back, so hopefully it means it is waking up.”  This, of course, was not the response I was aiming for, yet I did notice the pattern associated with pain and physical ability improvement.