Introduction
I want to tell my story. I had an ischemic stroke to the left hemisphere of my brain in May 2018, caused by a PFO (this is all the technical I'm going to get, so if you were here for some highly-technical-term-porn, I hate to break it to you, but I don't go past "ischemic" on the first date).
I have a wonderful child who is God's gift to America and occasionally I want to stab him in the eye, a husband who just became my husband in June, so I'll refer to him as "my husband" in the following posts, so you won't be reading and think "Fiance? How many directions is she flinging her thing at? Is flinging her thing even possible in her condition?" and I am not responsible for the resulting Google searches.
Well, come to think of it, you may be reading along and get to the bit about my wedding and wonder, "Husband? I thought she already had one! Is bigamy permitted if one has had a stroke?" so maybe I'll just refer to him as what he was at the time. YOU'RE WELCOME. Spoiler alert: the fiance becomes her husband even after she's had a stroke!
I want to tell my story because it's scary as hell to have a stroke and nobody thinks to tell you or your family what you're experiencing. I want to tell it in a "what in hell did I just read? Nobody thinks physical therapist are sadists" (unless you've had one and I've given voice to your one concern that you thought was just you, and come over here, you old so-and-so and I'll make you a cup of tea) and less in a tearful, painfully brave, look-at-what-she-learned-it's-possible-the-stroke-made-her-a-better-person, because a) that isn't true and b) I think that we're all a blood clot away from what I have to say here.
I have a wonderful child who is God's gift to America and occasionally I want to stab him in the eye, a husband who just became my husband in June, so I'll refer to him as "my husband" in the following posts, so you won't be reading and think "Fiance? How many directions is she flinging her thing at? Is flinging her thing even possible in her condition?" and I am not responsible for the resulting Google searches.
Well, come to think of it, you may be reading along and get to the bit about my wedding and wonder, "Husband? I thought she already had one! Is bigamy permitted if one has had a stroke?" so maybe I'll just refer to him as what he was at the time. YOU'RE WELCOME. Spoiler alert: the fiance becomes her husband even after she's had a stroke!
I want to tell my story because it's scary as hell to have a stroke and nobody thinks to tell you or your family what you're experiencing. I want to tell it in a "what in hell did I just read? Nobody thinks physical therapist are sadists" (unless you've had one and I've given voice to your one concern that you thought was just you, and come over here, you old so-and-so and I'll make you a cup of tea) and less in a tearful, painfully brave, look-at-what-she-learned-it's-possible-the-stroke-made-her-a-better-person, because a) that isn't true and b) I think that we're all a blood clot away from what I have to say here.
I love it that your introduction begins with "I want to tell my story". I've often wondered about starting a blog and it seems I never could feel a clear justifiable reason for just rambling along with talk that nobody might be interested in. But "I WANT TO TELL MY STORY" is so absolutely true, clear, simple and resonating with anybody, with everybody. And now I want to HEAR your story, so here I go...
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