Compadres

We went up to Friday Harbor this weekend for a big pig BBQ.  Three people turned 60 this year, and there was a party, farm style.  Big tables laden with food, lots of LOTS of people, a couple kegs, boxed wine and lemonade.  This used to be my hometown, and why I moved the kids to Poulsbo... I thought it would be like growing up in Friday Harbor.  Alas, nothing is like the 70's and 80's on a seventeen mile long island in NW Washington! 


Courtesy Washington Land and Homes

A fellow I have known my since I was 5 walked up to me and said that we should talk.  He is a member of my honorary extended family but he and I never had much to talk of. Now we do. He said he had a hemorrhagic stroke 6 years ago. From there it went winding down that stroke story path. There are conversations I have had that go on between us stroke survivors that immediately go to the serious, open-hearted and supportive.  A comraderie that happens that you can only understand if you have had a stroke.  We know that we may be changed, and have different skills and abilities, but we are still ourselves.  We all faced that wall of fear, of undoing, and rebuilding.  The conversations that I have had remind me that we go to a horrible, horrible place and then we navigate how to live our lives beyond it.  Thanks, Kim.

Head Injury Club

Picture: Rose and Wilder laughing at the ice cream store.
My kids went to a coop preschool and a community driven public elementary school when we lived in Seattle. Yesterday we stopped in and visited their old grade school...Rose had not been there in six years, Wilder in four. They had a blast, saw all their old teachers and got hugs, and told stories. I was in the office with the Principal John and the wonderful office gals when it came out that the principal had a vessel burst in his brain last fall. We fell into that talk of doctors and PT and health. He did not have a stroke, but his recovery was similar since the burst blood vessel was in the same area. I told him it was nice to see someone who had a major brain trauma still out in the world (and running the school), that we tend to become invisible after a trauma such as this. We talked of slurred speech and dizziness when tired. After a bit John looked at me and said "Welcome to the club."

Stroke Support Group

Traveled to Seattle yesterday for a Stroke Survivors Support Group.  I think I am too close to the stroke for a group setting... it may be my mood but the meeting opened my fear door wide to hear endless stories of multiple stroke episodes by so many people. I am not far enough away from it all not to have that nagging feeling of having another stroke at any time.  My rational thought says : you are on meds, you eat totally different, you have no stress (other than the ominous threat tumor and stroke), the perfect storm of hormones and whatever that created this mystery is no longer.  But my insane side says: I could keel over at any moment. So a group of great people saying my worst nightmare was not helpful. 
I was the youngest one in there, and upon entering was asked if I was a caregiver.  I said I had a stroke, which pretty much stopped inquiry.   If you were in my spinning head, aware of my "drop things" left hand and slightly stumbling left foot trying to find words to string together out of nothingness you would be able to understand.  But I guess from outward appearances, I look like a caregiver.
This all being said it was a fantastic group.  The spirit in the room was so supportive and positive, and it was a joy to have other people understand having a stroke without the hushed tones and serious faces.  Everyone there got it, and there was room for finding your words, or word, and dropping your cane and being allowed the time to pick it up.  Where having a stroke was treated as normal -a part of life- and being dealt with by spirited individuals. That is not quite the word I am looking for... but folks with hutzpah.  Energy for recovery, research, communication, stick-with-it-ness.