An Anniversary of Sorts-- Four Years Post Stroke

I woke up this morning with a nagging feeling that I had forgotten something.  Then it hit me.   It was an anniversary of sorts.

Four years ago, i woke up in my  hotel room in Phoenix on the floor. I had a nagging head ache the night before but honestly didn't remember falling out of bed.  Curiously, I must have grabbed a pillow on my way down, because my head was on the pillow and I felt very strange. "Odd," I thought,"how in the hell did I get down here?"

I struggled to get up and immediately noticed that things weren't working like I thought they should. I did manage to glance at my watch and saw that I was late for the all-hands staff meeting that precedes the opening of every Demo event. I knew that wasn't good, since I was going to do the opening session of that year's Demo and most of the companies in the first segment were ones I had picked

"There was a knock on the door and I remembered yelling "I'm awake and I need to get dressed." My voice must have alerted the co-worker sent to fetch me because the next thing I knew, she was standing over me and on the phone to the front desk." 

To shorten this tale, I had a stroke four years ago today and back then I had no idea how it would change my life, or how important a role technology would play in my life in coming years. I'm sure the stroke came as s surprise to my co-workers, who over the years have seen me hit deadline after deadline and keep coming back smiling.

I was in pretty deep denial about my personal stress levels in the month prior to my big stroke. About two weeks before the event I was returning home from a shopping trip to a membership store and forgot how to get home. That week and the one that followed I had trouble keeping focused on tasks at hand and would consistently mispronounce the name of a company, "Verizon."  A co-worker I miss seeing everyday, Karyn Kane Williams, would look at me exasperated and patiently correct my pronunciation of the company name.  Deep down inside, I had no idea what the hell was happening but months later I was able to conclude that I'd had a small stroke about two weeks before we embarked to Phoenix.  By February 11, 2002, i was a walking time bomb. And in the early morning hours of Feb 11, that bomb 'sploded in the lower region of the right hand side of my brain.

I know that G *d has a great sense of humor.   The effects of the stroke prove it. My right hemisphere stroke damaged my left side, and turned my left hand into a "sometimes on," "Sometimes off" kind of appendage.  That really annoyed me, since I am left hand dominant in everything.

The first two days in the hospital sucked pond scum. I kept thinking I could take my place at the show and do my job, but things just weren't working like they should and I would fall down every time I tried to stand up. I remember thinking "this sucks" every time I tried to write my name.When you're in the hospital you have to write your name a lot, like maybe 15 times a day for the first two days. At first my inability to perform that mundane task really ticked me off. And I quickly came to realize that my ability to make notes of meeting subjects was gone and with that skill missing, my career would be gone too. I went from being annoyed to getting seriously bummed. And then, they wouldn't let me out of the hospital because there wasn't room in the rehab ward at the hospital near my then home in San Mateo. That remade my stay in Phoenix worse.  Finally I picked up on the fact that they were going to try and send me to a VA hospital for rehab."No way, Jose!" I thought.

And then a bed opened up on the rehab ward in San Mateo and I started singing "California Here I Come," thinking that soon I would be sleeping in my own bed, in my own house. But Noooooooooooooooo! That's not the way it works. Six weeks later I was still in a hospital, doing four hours of basic rehab things a day but going stark raving bonkers in my confinement. The light at the ray of the tunnel was that rehab ain't prison and you get out of it zackly what you put into it. I was at war with one of the medical professionals who was assigned to me.  In a frank exchange of views one afternoon, I stood up in my wheel chair and glared down at this sniveling medical practitioner and put my cards on the table.

"My good dedicated medical professional, 1. I am the customer and the customer is pretty much always right. 2.  You are bound by the concept of 'Do no harm.' 3, unless your attitude changes, I'm going to do my damnedest to make you life a living hell."  I was pretty pissed but not about to back down. 

Then came the threat to discharge me from the hospital "And you think," I said to a very senior hospital official" that after being here for six weeks that I don't want to go home?" "Do you even know what kind of an abattoir you're running here?"

I think it was that very night that they adjusted my medication. I'm not a very good patient but I am a pretty effective leader. I had made enough progress by then that I negotiated my release, with the provision that during the day I have a home health worker in attendance and that I continue rehab at my house--a concept I recommend highly.

My home health worker was a very pleasant, but determined lady from Tonga.  She laughed at my rebellion, helped me find needed patience and walked me out to the duck pond and the lagoon for some much needed sunshine. My rehab workers came by for several hours a day and helped me to tighten my face muscles and to learn o deal with my left-side deficit. i was fishing in the lagoon in front of my house within two days of coming home. Things were looking up.

At about six months post-stroke, the enormity of the event hit me and I asked my doc the big ques ion, "When can I go back to work?"  He took his time, read his notes, made a call to my rehab supervisor, said 'uh huh" looked at me said "grab your cane and let's go outside."  I thought I knew what he was going to say and had prepared myself.

"Think of yourself as retired, starting right now."

I wanted to yell "Cooooooooooooooooooooooool, I made it to retirement!" but I thought maybe a moment of glum was called for.  I said "thanks for your care, humor and understanding, Dr.A"

Then i called the dispatcher for the short bus, went home and really relaxed for the first time since the stroke. It's been quite a ride since then and my life is frankly better today than it ever was. My use of technology began in the hospital when Miss Betsy smuggled in my itty bitty notebook, which has AOL on it. For grins and giggles, I'd jump into conservative chat rooms, sit back and watch the world go by. I then started to try and compose emails with my right hand. I thought seriously about using voice recognition  but discarded that idea a being impractical because I had a big problem with speaking clearly.  More on that technology later.

Technology has played a big part in my life in recovery. I read a lot, stay in touch with former coworkers and people I met through Demo and in a 30-year career in reporting.  I now read about four newspapers a day, use News.com regularly as a technology lens and have turned to blogging as an outlet for my need to write. I'm still very conversant on mobile computing trends and notebook technologies and use that information as the basis for much of what I write about  here.

In a way, blogging has brought part of me back to life. It's a fun creative outlet , and it provides a level of feedback I really enjoy.  Post stroke, It's harder for me to stay on message when I'm writing but easier for me to poke fun at myself.

With an abundance of free time, I've been able to indulge my passions for California history and archeology and pursue things like organic gardening. My life post stroke has also allowed me to reconnect with childhood friends and my family. I take Ma Forbes shopping once a week and spend the night in the house where I grew up.

but one of the neatest changes in my life is the addition of my new buddy, "Mr Perro" a low miles, used, dog I got at the local humane society. Also known as "Dude"  Perro makes me laugh everyday. When i was working I didn't have time for a dog and I certainly never imagined I'd have a blind-in-one-eye nine year old Chihuahua that would make me part of his pack.

So four years ago, I was sweating deadlines, worrying about the companies I had picked for Demo and not allowing myself to decompress. Today, I've been known to take four-day weekends, dedicate a day to seeing first-run movies  (at the senior matinee rate, of course) go fishing when ever and where ever I want, go to the dog park regularly and take a swimming class as part of my rehab program.  Most of all I take the time to smell the over size French carnations that ring my upper garden and take naps.

Oh, i think napping should be an Olympic event with two classes: free form and formal . I  have it all figured out. the judges would be cats and you'd get points for artistic and technical merit.

My former employer, IDG, had a great benefit plan and  a culture that took care of me when I had my stroke.  Our then vice president of human resources, Sue Murphy, was a god send, keeping my family updated on my condition regularly and let me know that I hadn't been forgotten. My boss and good friend Chris Shipley was right there too!. Thank G*d for good friends and people who care.

And that's why I'm celebrating a anniversary today. One door closes and another opens. It's up to us to cross the transom and smile at the new territory

Like i said, blogging has opened some creative channels for me, Post Stroke.

Comments

[David Churbuck]

Jim,
Two years ago we rented an electric boat and puttered around the bank canals of Long Beach, shooting the breeze, and you ominously said you weren't going to start "War and Peace."

I sent you a copy and unless you read at a two-year old's level, you should have finished it by now and have moved onto Tristram Shandy.

I am glad to know you, to see you writing, and frankly, in a far better place than you were four years ago. Your recovery is one of the most inspiring I have ever seen, a far cry from that bleak phone call I received in Zurich four years ago when Ms. Shipley let me know about your stroke. Those were dark days and these are brighter!

[Scott]

Thanks Jim for sharing your story. You're right, blogging is a great outlet.

Scott Mace
Scott i was just thinking of you. where are you these days?

Jim