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Each and everyone of us has at their disposal the worlds highest tech super computer. It doesn't come with instructions or a help line. You don't have to save up for it or make 24 easy payments, it's just yours. It's so fast that you already know what I'm talking about, it's Your Brain. I know what your saying to yourself, I knew that!
It's multi tasking, multi dimensional and multi hard to figure out when something goes wrong with it.Having a stroke or brain injury can be devastating. Some systems no longer work or if they do, not properly. Doctors announce that you've had a stroke and then determine if your worth giving rehab to.
Strangers are going to determine my fate. Ya Right!
I've always felt that the brain is just like a home computer. You put data into it to get data out of it. It's storage system is what I'm most interested in. The data you feed into it isn't held in one place. No it's spread throughout the hard drive to be used for more than just one purpose. It links seemingly unrelated info together so they can run picture files and text files together. Wow. Even better it duplicates this info and stores it in another place. Just try erasing a file from your computer. It tells you it's been erased but it's not. Just ask the police.
Time to rewire my Super Computer ( Brain ). The information I'm looking for is there. I can hear words in my head but can't speak them verbally. The thoughts of those words are intact, the ability to say them is not. So my quest is to find the duplicates stored on either side of my brain.
Interestingly enough, a few years after I found the missing files I read a medical journal that told of a discovery of how babies are born ambidextrous. Their neither left or right handed. There is no dominate side to their brain. Both sides are duplicates of the other. It's through time and experience they learn to be one sided.
The dominate side takes control and other side starts to shrink for lack of use. There's not much going on in those sections so the lights are turned out. Their not gone just in mothballs perhaps for later emergency use. I suspected this and I'm glad doctors now confirm my theory. Whatever!
Off came the salesperson hat and on when the electrical engineer/technician hard hat. We have some rewiring to do. Waiting around takes time which I knew I didn't have. Just like when they called for an ambulance everyone knew time was of the essence. The same with getting better the more I put into it and the sooner I worked on Me the sooner I would be back doing the things I love to do. The thought of not getting it all back never crossed my mind.
I'll use the hospital, the doctors and the therapists to my best advantage. I'm not going to wait for a permit! In the words of an old schlocky movie, “ Permits, we don't need no stinking Permits!”
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Friday, March 16, 2007
Move It Or Lose It
I have a pain going down my arm. A pain going down my leg. A pain behind my shoulder blade. Welcome to the wonderful world of stroke after effects. My blog and web site tell me how people came across my sites. Most are searches for answers to the above statements along with hundreds of time based questions.
How long will my recovery take? Does the tingling in my face, hand or foot go away? The list goes on and on but I can't answer all of them in one sitting at the keyboard so I'll start with pain. There is nothing more debilitating than a constant ache.
This pain was deep inside of my muscle. I would rub my shoulder, arm, leg and the bottom of my foot as I tried to rub the pain away. It wouldn't go away. Pills wouldn't chase it away. Tried everything from aspirin to morphine. Nothing.
For the longest time I called it Phantom Pain, it's there but it isn't. If pills couldn't touch it then it's an imaginary pain. I'm good at thinking past my pain but as time went by it was getting worse. Sitting still would ease some of it sometimes. Other times it hit me like a sneak attack. Just sitting around minding my own business and the Phantom Pain Returns ( Imagine a sharp musical stab on an organ playing in the background ).
Sharp pain is not that unusual for stroke survivors, the music is optional. My dad wanted a wheelchair so he could get around when he went shopping with mom. He walked with a cane and a brace on his ankle so what does he need a wheelchair for? You can be in pain walking or wheeling about, it make no difference.
She was on the verge of getting dad what he wanted till she met a man at the mall whos father was in the same situation as dad. This mans father had walked with a cane and brace right up till the family bought the wheelchair. He told mom it was the last time his father walked. Don't get him one unless he really can't walk was his advise. She took that advise and dad continued to walk and walk better for years to come.
It occurred to me if I was going to beat this pain I'd have to do it on two fronts, psychologically and physically. First part was attitude. Have a good one. If it aches it works! Better than it not working at all. Second part, lets get physical. The one thing I was missing since the end of my therapy was my therapy. That was simple.
Dads greatest change for the better was when he got into a routine of daily exercise. I did the same laying down on the floor and streaching my muscles back and forth. Tense them and relax them over and over. It didn't take long and quickly I was getting the benefit of less ache and more mobility.I didn't lose it because I learned to move it!
How long will my recovery take? Does the tingling in my face, hand or foot go away? The list goes on and on but I can't answer all of them in one sitting at the keyboard so I'll start with pain. There is nothing more debilitating than a constant ache.
This pain was deep inside of my muscle. I would rub my shoulder, arm, leg and the bottom of my foot as I tried to rub the pain away. It wouldn't go away. Pills wouldn't chase it away. Tried everything from aspirin to morphine. Nothing.
For the longest time I called it Phantom Pain, it's there but it isn't. If pills couldn't touch it then it's an imaginary pain. I'm good at thinking past my pain but as time went by it was getting worse. Sitting still would ease some of it sometimes. Other times it hit me like a sneak attack. Just sitting around minding my own business and the Phantom Pain Returns ( Imagine a sharp musical stab on an organ playing in the background ).
Sharp pain is not that unusual for stroke survivors, the music is optional. My dad wanted a wheelchair so he could get around when he went shopping with mom. He walked with a cane and a brace on his ankle so what does he need a wheelchair for? You can be in pain walking or wheeling about, it make no difference.
She was on the verge of getting dad what he wanted till she met a man at the mall whos father was in the same situation as dad. This mans father had walked with a cane and brace right up till the family bought the wheelchair. He told mom it was the last time his father walked. Don't get him one unless he really can't walk was his advise. She took that advise and dad continued to walk and walk better for years to come.
It occurred to me if I was going to beat this pain I'd have to do it on two fronts, psychologically and physically. First part was attitude. Have a good one. If it aches it works! Better than it not working at all. Second part, lets get physical. The one thing I was missing since the end of my therapy was my therapy. That was simple.
Dads greatest change for the better was when he got into a routine of daily exercise. I did the same laying down on the floor and streaching my muscles back and forth. Tense them and relax them over and over. It didn't take long and quickly I was getting the benefit of less ache and more mobility.I didn't lose it because I learned to move it!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
There's Something Wrong With Jim
I've heard that before. My usual reply is that I'm left handed. Which I think is OK, I've been that way all my life. If someone tells me I'm a Southpaw then I remind them that I'm one of the few that's thinking out of my right side of my brain. Gotcha!
This changed the moment I had my stroke. It only took a second. One moment the smiling, laughing top salesperson of the store and the next I was as stiff and silent as a Garden Nome. Just staring straight ahead.
While the staff were doing all the right things for me. Calling 911, laying me down so I couldn't hurt myself and just generally doing all they could for me I was thinking how do I get out of this? My entire body was paralyzed. Left side, right side, top of my head to the tip of my toes nothing was moving. I don't think I could even blink my eyes.
What's it like? Well it's not the paralyzes you feel seconds before the big interview. The feeling you get when your spouse announces that We Need To Talk. Not even the momentary mental collapse that happens when the nice police officer asks for your drivers license and you're not sure you brought it with you. No this is different. It's more like you're mentally reaching out to hold onto your body before they steal it but you can't get a grip.
Whatever happens next you have no control over. Your mind is just floating around like the unborn baby in 2001 A Space Odyssey. Floating around completely disconnected from the rest of the world and universe. Still you know and watch everything going on around you. In a way it's fascinating.
The problem was I knew I was having a stroke. My father had one when I was 16 and it wasn't a pretty sight. Years of his depression and attempted suicide told me I was in big trouble. If I didn't change the outcome which I was witness to in my fathers stroke life was going to be unbearable.
Fortunately I'm Left Handed. As far as I was concerned that changes everything. With the world setup for right handers, lefty has to adapt. Gas pedals are for the right foot. The pens at banks are always on the right side of the teller and to tighten screws you always turn the screwdriver to the right. So I'm thinking how tough is it going to be to get the left side of my brain to work the left side of my body.
Impossible!
Good guess but you'd be wrong. In my recovery not only did I think outside the box, I threw the box away. I knew that millions of brain cells died during my stroke. I knew they controlled the left side of my body. They controlled speech. They held the mystery of the alphabet and they were gone. They don't grow back.
What's wrong with Jim? Nothing. Jim's not closed. Jim's under renovation. I've got a lot of rewiring to do.
This changed the moment I had my stroke. It only took a second. One moment the smiling, laughing top salesperson of the store and the next I was as stiff and silent as a Garden Nome. Just staring straight ahead.
While the staff were doing all the right things for me. Calling 911, laying me down so I couldn't hurt myself and just generally doing all they could for me I was thinking how do I get out of this? My entire body was paralyzed. Left side, right side, top of my head to the tip of my toes nothing was moving. I don't think I could even blink my eyes.
What's it like? Well it's not the paralyzes you feel seconds before the big interview. The feeling you get when your spouse announces that We Need To Talk. Not even the momentary mental collapse that happens when the nice police officer asks for your drivers license and you're not sure you brought it with you. No this is different. It's more like you're mentally reaching out to hold onto your body before they steal it but you can't get a grip.
Whatever happens next you have no control over. Your mind is just floating around like the unborn baby in 2001 A Space Odyssey. Floating around completely disconnected from the rest of the world and universe. Still you know and watch everything going on around you. In a way it's fascinating.
The problem was I knew I was having a stroke. My father had one when I was 16 and it wasn't a pretty sight. Years of his depression and attempted suicide told me I was in big trouble. If I didn't change the outcome which I was witness to in my fathers stroke life was going to be unbearable.
Fortunately I'm Left Handed. As far as I was concerned that changes everything. With the world setup for right handers, lefty has to adapt. Gas pedals are for the right foot. The pens at banks are always on the right side of the teller and to tighten screws you always turn the screwdriver to the right. So I'm thinking how tough is it going to be to get the left side of my brain to work the left side of my body.
Impossible!
Good guess but you'd be wrong. In my recovery not only did I think outside the box, I threw the box away. I knew that millions of brain cells died during my stroke. I knew they controlled the left side of my body. They controlled speech. They held the mystery of the alphabet and they were gone. They don't grow back.
What's wrong with Jim? Nothing. Jim's not closed. Jim's under renovation. I've got a lot of rewiring to do.
Painting Your Life
My father, uncles and my grandfather were all house painters. I started painting professionally at the tender age of 12. Dad fired me after 4 hours on my first job because I was bothering the men. Apparently I was talking too much and the men couldn't get anything done. Little did they know I'd become a radio announcer after high school.
The next summer I was 13 and Dad hired me again. I worked for 10 cent an hour the first year and went up to 25 cent the next year. Baring 2 weeks vacation I worked all summer. Never thought of what it was like to play all summer long in my teens. I had lots of fun in the evenings because I had lots of money.
Those summers I didn't know how much I'd learned till latter in life. Values that would stay with me through good times and challenges. My teachers were my Dad's men. Each painter added something to my life like the painter who taught me how to “Cut In”. If you're saying to yourself what's “Cutting In” let me help you out.
“Cutting In”is painting all the corners and edges of the ceiling and the walls. You do this before you roll the walls with, yes a paint roller. I was taught to do it the right way. No choice in the matter because Dad told the men to treat me like any new painter. Drat I couldn't get away with anything.
The painter who taught me was Santa Claus. Really. I'm not kidding. My father was a member of the Moose Lodge, a service club. Every Christmas the whole family would go to the lodge for the children's party and of course Santa would give out presents to all the kids. Santa had a real red nose, white hair and I knew him all my life. He was a painter who's name was Ray Bennett and he taught me to “Cut In”. When you've been taught by Santa you do it the right way!
My lessons included being told not to “Dry Brush”. Get enough paint on the brush so you don't have to do it a second time. Concentrate to make the edge line straight. Finally don't stop till the room is done. If I didn't commit to doing the job right not only would I not get the work done but I would be holding up everyone else.
Are you “Dry Brushing” your life? Not fully committed to getting what you want done? Skipping steps by rolling without cutting in? Time to ask yourself, "What do you want out of your life?" You're the painter,"What do you want the room to look like?"
I had a stroke and you may have had one too. You may have had a brain injury or are just mentally feeling lost. Take some advice for Santa Claus, don't dry brush and concentrate. If you do the line will be straight and the job wouldn't have to be done again.
Paint your life so you don't paint yourself into a corner!
The next summer I was 13 and Dad hired me again. I worked for 10 cent an hour the first year and went up to 25 cent the next year. Baring 2 weeks vacation I worked all summer. Never thought of what it was like to play all summer long in my teens. I had lots of fun in the evenings because I had lots of money.
Those summers I didn't know how much I'd learned till latter in life. Values that would stay with me through good times and challenges. My teachers were my Dad's men. Each painter added something to my life like the painter who taught me how to “Cut In”. If you're saying to yourself what's “Cutting In” let me help you out.
“Cutting In”is painting all the corners and edges of the ceiling and the walls. You do this before you roll the walls with, yes a paint roller. I was taught to do it the right way. No choice in the matter because Dad told the men to treat me like any new painter. Drat I couldn't get away with anything.
The painter who taught me was Santa Claus. Really. I'm not kidding. My father was a member of the Moose Lodge, a service club. Every Christmas the whole family would go to the lodge for the children's party and of course Santa would give out presents to all the kids. Santa had a real red nose, white hair and I knew him all my life. He was a painter who's name was Ray Bennett and he taught me to “Cut In”. When you've been taught by Santa you do it the right way!
My lessons included being told not to “Dry Brush”. Get enough paint on the brush so you don't have to do it a second time. Concentrate to make the edge line straight. Finally don't stop till the room is done. If I didn't commit to doing the job right not only would I not get the work done but I would be holding up everyone else.
Are you “Dry Brushing” your life? Not fully committed to getting what you want done? Skipping steps by rolling without cutting in? Time to ask yourself, "What do you want out of your life?" You're the painter,"What do you want the room to look like?"
I had a stroke and you may have had one too. You may have had a brain injury or are just mentally feeling lost. Take some advice for Santa Claus, don't dry brush and concentrate. If you do the line will be straight and the job wouldn't have to be done again.
Paint your life so you don't paint yourself into a corner!
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Who's in Charge Anyway?
The adventure begins with not feeling well. Sudden dizziness and then comes the fall or your words come out as if they'd gone through a verbal blender all mashed up and unintelligent. Not a pretty sight. It gets better when those around me become concerned and call for help. Ambulance and Emergency Medical Services arrive. Even the Police depending on the day and situation.
At the hospital a team is forming, waiting to take you in. There's doctors, nurses and lab staff. MRI department is there for me. This is a lot of people and if their not there well I'm in a lot of trouble. Imagine this is a car crash. I'm the driver and I've lost steering control and the brakes don't work. To add to it I'm headed for a wall. A nice solid immovable stone wall. The staff is there to try to stop me from hitting that wall or at least lessen the blow.
This is a “Battle Stations Moment” in the life of Me. So I again ask “Who's in charge Anyway”? Well there's so many the choose from and if any of them makes a mistake the consequences will affect me for the rest of my life if I get to have one after all is said and done.
On the positive side there's all these people with me and my problem's on their minds. On the negative side there's me and my problem. If I can't move or communicate with all these people how can I find out who's to in charge and who I can turn to?
Time to turn to “Stroke Logic”. Communication lines are down between myself and the rest of the world. Power lines are down too because all sorts of things aren't working. My entire left side of my body which includes one side of my tongue. Can't talk so I can't converse. I'm on my own like a person lost in the woods. Time to turn to the only one I can chat with and yes it's me!
Logically I'm in charge. Logically I need to realize my resources are the people around me and use them to best advantage which is what they'd like me to do anyway. It's easy to just give up and let the people around me be in charge but it won't get me to where I want to be. This survivor wants to be better, a lot better.
I have all the raw material with these people so what is left is “The Plan”. Without a plan I wouldn't know how to gauge my progress. A plan required a beginning, a middle and and end just like a story. Knowing you're at the beginning I can then plan the middle. The middle is all the steps I have to take to approach the end.
In the end my recovery will be what I want it to be and in a way I want it to happen. The best part is my recovery was what I wanted it to be and in a way I wanted it to happen. Bonus round is that I'm still in charge!
At the hospital a team is forming, waiting to take you in. There's doctors, nurses and lab staff. MRI department is there for me. This is a lot of people and if their not there well I'm in a lot of trouble. Imagine this is a car crash. I'm the driver and I've lost steering control and the brakes don't work. To add to it I'm headed for a wall. A nice solid immovable stone wall. The staff is there to try to stop me from hitting that wall or at least lessen the blow.
This is a “Battle Stations Moment” in the life of Me. So I again ask “Who's in charge Anyway”? Well there's so many the choose from and if any of them makes a mistake the consequences will affect me for the rest of my life if I get to have one after all is said and done.
On the positive side there's all these people with me and my problem's on their minds. On the negative side there's me and my problem. If I can't move or communicate with all these people how can I find out who's to in charge and who I can turn to?
Time to turn to “Stroke Logic”. Communication lines are down between myself and the rest of the world. Power lines are down too because all sorts of things aren't working. My entire left side of my body which includes one side of my tongue. Can't talk so I can't converse. I'm on my own like a person lost in the woods. Time to turn to the only one I can chat with and yes it's me!
Logically I'm in charge. Logically I need to realize my resources are the people around me and use them to best advantage which is what they'd like me to do anyway. It's easy to just give up and let the people around me be in charge but it won't get me to where I want to be. This survivor wants to be better, a lot better.
I have all the raw material with these people so what is left is “The Plan”. Without a plan I wouldn't know how to gauge my progress. A plan required a beginning, a middle and and end just like a story. Knowing you're at the beginning I can then plan the middle. The middle is all the steps I have to take to approach the end.
In the end my recovery will be what I want it to be and in a way I want it to happen. The best part is my recovery was what I wanted it to be and in a way I wanted it to happen. Bonus round is that I'm still in charge!
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