Originally written 4/2/2022
For the past week I have been acutely aware that today is the six-month mark. Six months ago, I slept late on a Saturday morning, came downstairs to my family, had a conversation, and then my life was forever changed. The currency by which I interact at work, at home, and in my relationships was gone and I was trapped inside my head. Thankfully, with life saving medication (which I learned cost about $25,000!!) and therapy, I relearned. Six months later, I am told that no one can tell. I think that is a complete lie that people tell just to make me feel less self-conscious, but I’m grateful for those in my circle who are trying to protect me.
So, how am I feeling six months out from my stroke? It’s complicated. To put it bluntly, I’m a mess of emotions. I feel like I should be further—more toward my baseline, more like myself. I feel like it can’t possibly have been that long—like time has stopped or at least slowed down. I feel guilty for being frustrated when I should be grateful. I also feel grateful. I feel scared—like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop—what if I’m not so fortunate when it does. I wanted this to be a blip on the radar of my medical history, an unfortunate hiccup in the fall that was long past. It’s not. It’s bigger than I imagined it would be at this point. It truly was life changing in ways that I’m still trying to figure out.
One of those ways is fatigue. Those who are close to me know that napping has always been my superpower. I can go from being active to napping faster than a sports car gets on the highway. I love a good nap on a rainy or snowy day, a Sunday afternoon nap, a vacation nap, or a nap in the car. However, in the last six months, naps have become increasingly frustrating because I need them even when I don’t want them. The other aftereffects of my stroke are even more obvious when I don’t nap. I have a nap scheduled into almost every day—instead of a lunch hour, I have a nap hour. Don’t get me wrong, the naps are glorious!! I just don’t want to need them. I want to be able to sleep for 7-8 hours at night and be able to function throughout the day.
Another one of those ways is aphasia. I have learned so much about aphasia in the last 6 months, including that only 7% of people have ever heard of it. The type of aphasia I have is primarily expressive. I can understand what people say, I can read and comprehend. I struggle with word retrieval, pronunciation, and spelling. I have never had to proofread my documents so much in my life! Sometimes I will be thinking a word to speak or type, and a completely different word will come out, or the correct word will come out, but it will be unrecognizable. I have awkward pauses in my speech. My aphasia is significantly worse when I am tired. Sometimes at the end of the day I struggle to get a correct sentence out at all. The hardest part about aphasia is not the actual speaking—it is in the energy it takes to speak understandably.
A third way is understanding directions—left and right. I have always been a little directionally challenged. I have always been one of those people who struggles to “go west a half a mile and then turn north”. I need “go toward the Sonic and turn left at the Quik Trip”. In the first days and weeks after my stroke, I was significantly confused by left and right. I failed that part of my speech assessment, I gave my kids inaccurate directions to places, I even struggle with which shoe went on which foot. Thankfully, I have gotten significantly better with left and right, but I still second guess at times (yes, I do hold up my hands to see which one makes the “L”). I have been doing yoga for several years—that is where I notice it the most. If I’m supposed to be doing one thing with my right hand and another with my left, that is a struggle! I can eventually get it, but it takes some serious thought sometimes.
Another way is the emotional counterbalance between feeling so fortunate that my stroke wasn’t worse and was caught so quickly, being so scared that it will happen again, and I might not be so fortunate the next time, being frustrated that I’m not “back to normal” and feeling petty that I am frustrated. I know that all these emotions are valid. They are understandable for someone who has experienced something life altering at a young(ish) age. I would say that to anyone else, but I’m not as good at giving myself the same grace.
A huge positive that has come out of this time is a slower life pace. My stroke happened a few weeks before my professional role was scheduled to change. Even though my role didn’t change as a result of my stroke, I have been so grateful for the timing! I would have struggled to keep the pace in my job that I had kept the past 12 years. I worked an overnight shift 36 hours before my stroke. I will forever be thankful that it didn’t happen on that shift! My new role means no time on call, no covering shifts, no ridiculously long hours, and mostly working from home. It means that I have time to read, volunteer, and make social connections that I struggled to make time for before.
I am thankful for all the support that I have had as my friends and family have navigated through this with me.
Thanks for reading! 😊 EW