The Recoup Recap

Well, it's been quite a little while since I blogged. Trying to get back to where I was, and making ends meet since my job laid me off for daring to have a stroke on their time. It seems that juggling medications, disability, and life is just day to day complex. I'd rather have a job to be honest. Okay, a nice paying job with great cheep benefits, a hour lunch, and a masseuse, if I had a choice.

So, why didn't i blog since July? Typing is still a bit hard, and thank god for the spellchecker. Sometimes I press multiple letters. I don't know if i can explain how I feel, it's like my brain is trying to control someone Else's body, since I am continuing to rewire new synapses. Like playing your old Atari 2600 with that old broken joystick you can't quite make go left and the button is twitchy. I think that's a fair assessment, really. Walking is like doing a constant sobriety test, making sure all those automatic responses you've learned since being a baby is checked off for each step. It is like being a baby again, but thankfully without the diaper and the green mushy poo. Probably too much detail, huh?

My eyesight is still questionable, but I did expect that to be the last part to heal. People I meet from before are amazed I can walk and do things like I never lost any ability. And, people who don't know me think I'm just a lazy bastard when Whitney has to lift heavy things for us at the store, or get out of a parked handicapped labeled car with seemingly no problem. Oh, and the lens on my left glasses is so thick it can focus sunlight into a deadly orbital laser. Fear me, humans of Earth!

It's still weird when my left side goes to sleep, or my eyesight goes out a bit, or i loose tight control of a limb and i spill drinks, or can't open a jar I used to be able to. And, it does depress me, but then Whitney reminds me that I did have one of the worst strokes possible, and I bounced back in 5 months when other have been in wheelchairs for years and decades. I don't know what I would have done without her.

The things I've noticed since May? Many people are douches and park in handicapped spots because it's convenient and no one traffics the tags. how complex doing everything that was previously automatic really is. Baby kittens smell like baby powder until the first month, then they smell like a stinky cat. The type of shoes do matter. The movie "meet Dave" not only is like a stroke, but is so bad, it can induce one as well. Medications are friken expensive. Beatles Rockband is great therapy. I miss Conan O'brian. Jay Leno is an ass. Douchy guys think women find them attractive when they hawk a logie. If I didn't have a stroke I would have never been able to see every season of Law and Order SVU and CI. And, Food network, Pawn Stars, and TruTV are addicting.

Anyway, a heads up. And next time, it's news about the kitten sisters, speaking of smelly cats.

P.S. Thank you spellchecker again.

Point of View

oh, this is godawful weather around here in Washington, so I'm typing this at 5am when it's cool. Okay, I thought I'd share the experience it was to have a stroke from my point of view.

First let me clear up a myth-conception: you don't feel it coming on. It's not like Fred Sanford grasping his chest screaming that he can feel that here comes the "big one". I didn't notice anything until i just couldn't move my fingers, and had the worst instant headache ever. Felt like a WWF cage match in my skull. I needed to sit down immediately. What happened at this point was my famously high hypertension reached a new world record and burst a blood vessel in me brain.

As strokes go, if you had to have one, select this type, a bleed out. It's the best type to have for mortality rate and recovery. My brain space was filling up with blood and snuffing out nerves with the pressure. In my case it damaged my number 3 optical nerve on the right side, and a cascade of nerves on the left. Usually, a stroke effects one side or the other randomly. Mine started on the right and crossed over to the left, effecting the number 7 nerve on my face, then the limbs downward. Ignoring the massive headache, it feels like your body is falling asleep, pins ans needles and numbness. I made it to bed before my legs stopped functioning, where the headache and brain pressure made me throw up everything I've ever ate.

I should say, t this point, don't screw around, call 911! Your chances of 100% recovery will be much higher the sooner you have medical help. I of course didn't want to go to a hospital, just to lay down in a dark room. But as Whitney, my girlfriend told me later, an I had no clue, was that i was mumbling, my arms went slack, and I was trying to get up but couldn't, like a bird that can't fly, so he just flutters on the ground helplessly.

If you ever saw Mission Impossible 3 when the small bomb went off on Felicity's brain, and her eyes roll all weird and get dark...It was like that. Like a small bomb going off on your brain, but you live.

When the paramedics show up, they aren't delicate. my apartment has scrape marks and dings from equipment and a failed attempt to get a gurney downstairs and in my room. Also don't wear a shirt you want to keep, they'll just gonna slice it off with a knife like an experienced serial killer skinning a victim.

I don't remember anything from the ICU, other that I was being asked the same questions over and over to see if i have any brain damage. I thought it was 1987, but I'm like that normally, and I never remember the date. made me look a bit damaged I imagine. I was there for about 3 weeks with tubes out of my arms and my feet with pressure casts to keep my circulatory system running. I am also told I accidentally scratched my own face and head, I was so burning up, and scratched my leg raw, and those beds are a bitch to relax in. Luckily, from time to time, i was moved o a device called the Stroke Chair that was very comfortable in comparison. Lots of head scans too.

Now I was lucky. I had bleed out, and not a bleed in, so I didn't need any drilling in my skull to alleviate pressure, and got to the hospital in time to lower my blood pressure, so my brain was already healing and draining by the time i got there. Now it was on to rehab to start making new neural pathways for my limbs and eyes through therapy.

The doctors gave me 6 months recovery, but i love proving authority figures wrong and was released to go home in 6 weeks, but that took some very very hard work. And I saw others just give up and not do the therapy. Period. That was sad to see, others just not caring anymore. I drew and walked and played guitar, and Beatles Rockband was coming out in a few months...I wanted to get better. Also it was so unfair to Whitney to stifle her life for my crippled ass. I pushed myself to exhaustion.

And now I'm 95% recovered in my limbs. I even walk without a wheelchair or cane now. I do strongly recommend playing Rockband a lot. Got my fingers and balance back with that. So, if you ever hear anyone dissing video games as pointless wastes of time, tell them how it helped Mr recover from a stroke, and tell them to shut the hell up.

SO, remember to get BP check ups with a good doctor (my former one was an ass) learn about the medication you take (Dr. Ass forgot to prescribe a pill that activates the other pills he gave me). Remember that a Stroke has no warnings, and call 911 without delay. Don't let my misery be in vein. I'm signing off now was the sun is coming up and I'm starting to feel the heat..,.

Least I can feel.

Progress Report

My progress so far since I have been home: Ive got about 95% of my arm and it no longer looks like a smurf arm I guess, I can play Rock Band at medium finally one of my "long term goals" simply because Beatles Rock Band comes out September and I need to be expert again. I'm starting to use my left leg and I got my swanky new glasses so I dont look like a freak with double vision and space goggles. I can actually read now and more importantly play Left 4 Dead. My PT and OT are going well. My current doctor is a complete bitch and stresses me out. She "yells" at me all the time and she hates my blood pressure machine. She also spits blood out of her eyes like a Brazilian toad if you dont answer her quickly.

I take 11 pills a day to get my blood pressure lower than that of a frieghtened bunny. And I finally got my handicapped placard and ID card. I also filled my prerequesite of going to IHOP for breakfast as a temporary handicapped person. Its state mandated.

I also now enjoy being pissed off at people who abuse handicapped parking or places that arent handicapped friendly. There are such bastards out there who park in these reserved spaces just to be closer to a store or bank. Reading a book, talking on a cell phone or eating a sandwhich.

I'll get more on that later when I can I start typing on my own.

Beef Wraps and Wrap Ups

Where I left off from the last blog, I suffered a stroke on my birthday and I lost movement on my left side. So, as continued....

My girlfriend, Whitney, mentioned that everyone she knew that was a stroke victim was effected on the left side. Which I thought was interesting. Anyway... the doctors determined that I didnt have any permanent damage to my brain, just some blood on it. I was responding very well to the physical therapy and the tons of drugs including the late night catheters and blood sugar raids that left my finger infected. Thank you student nurses for stabbing the same finger over and over. The nurses I had were wonderful and kept me calm. Even the ones that hit me in the face with my gait belt by mistake and caught my foot in the bed rail. Whitney stayed every night by my side and only went home to feed the cat. She even rubbed the toy cat on my real cat and brought it to me so I would still feel like my kitten was there. So enter, comfort kitty, which purrs, kneeds, and meows. If it pooped and bitched, it would be just like having Josie there.

I dont remember anything about the week stay in the ICU except flashing the nurses and using the excuse that it was my birthday, which was true. At least that is what I was told I did. I remember most of my 2 1/2 week stay at 4 west rehab, including the food which was dry and tastless and the applesauce tasted like monkey poop, but they had wonderful cheeseburgers and beef wraps. Which I only found out a few days before I left that I could special order.

Now I am finally home with improved vision, I can slightly move my left leg, but I cant play video games yet, which really sucks, but I know it will bac sooner that I think cause I NEED to play Beatles Rock Band when it comes out. I'll update later as things go by.

The birthday curse strikes/my fear of Guitar Hero

I promised I would blog, but I have been in the hospital for almost a month. As past readers would know, I have a birthday curse. Even though I gave my best efforts to avoid it, it struck back with vengeance. I was playing Guitar Hero: World Tour awaiting the face-melting lead in Billy Idols "Rebel Yell", when I was struck down by a stroke which literally melted my face. Which leads me to believe that either Guitar Hero is a portal to Hell, or Billy Idol is the demon spawn. And mind you that this is after I broke my phone at work by dropping it in the toilet and being locked out of my work for half an hour. I thought going home was the safest bet. Actually, now that I think about it, it was the safest because I could have been on a forklift or using power tools. Then Whitney saved my life just by being there and calling the ambulance because the cat cant call anyone because she doesn't have opposable thumbs. Damn evolution. When the ambulance came for me, they stuck tubes up places that tubes do not belong and shaved parts of my body without even asking. And I was shipped away to Southwest Washington Medical.

I was in ICU for a week with almost no food or water and tons of IVs and student nurses who cause finger infections for blood sugar tests. I was finally released to the inpatient rehabilitation wing of the hospital where I had the worst room mate you could ever hope for. He was always bitching and shat himself constantly. His farts woke up the dead. Literally, I mean, there were a few people from the morgue downstairs wandering around trying to figure out how big of a duck it was that could have been stepped on. I thought dogs had snuck into the room and took large dumps at my feet. He also watched sports constantly on the TV he hogged. I HATE sports. Not only that, he watched the ESPN highlights of the sports he just saw.

The IVs gave me a painful blood clot and nurse Barry wacked me in the eye with a gait belt.

...to be continued...