Finding Progress in Stroke Recovery: Lessons on Acceptance

Is it possible to accept imperfection more than desire perfection? What do you think?

Well…yes, and no. Mostly, yes.

Huh…what is perfect? What the hell is perfection in life? Perhaps it’s the ability to accept imperfection?

Let me tell you this, having a husband who is recovering from a massive hemorrhagic stroke puts one’s (aka, my) perfectionist tendencies to rest. “Good riddance to being that way,” I say to myself more often than not now.

The premise of a perfect and simple independent life is gone for me (us). Or at least gone from our current grasps. The reality of our new life is clearer now as we’ve reached 100 days today since the stroke. Simple milestones are counted on more than ever. The big event of 6/21/2024 was the day Mr.’s life-changing stroke hit our lives and redirected our course onto a complicated, yet focused more on the baby steps of recovery life none of us were prepared to partake in. Thank goodness our family has gotten closer than ever.

We’ve also been married for 35 years this month. No big formal renewal of vows kind of party is needed – we tell each other more than ever how much we love and appreciate each other and are glad we’re together going through the life-changing situation. That reality still stings, but the simple joys of accomplishments during recovery make us laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy.

Partaking in this new course away from perfection and onto progress is where we are. No choice, we have to do it. So, what’s the quick down-and-dirty list of where we’re at?

• Acceptance that when we were young and in our 20s building our house, handi-capped accessibility was not even a thought to consider. DUH! So…stairlifts have been ordered. ETA for installation is unknown as the shipment has been delayed for an unknown reason.
• In the way of the smooth operation of safety/transfer equipment was the decorative furniture that needed to be moved around to clear paths. We’re going for the museum of decades of furniture we’ve collected over the years that gives off a fashion vibe never before welcomed by us. It is all combined into one cluttered room. Not sure if a Christmas tree will fit 🤔 come December?
• Wheelchair evaluation happened. Mr.’s left neglect remains prominent thus making him inappropriate and unsafe for him and anyone in his path for power mobility. He’ll be a proud owner of a manual wheelchair, a shiny black Bentley LT. LT for me (as I need to lift it). It’s configured with custom-fit seating and a cushion for the strong guy sitting in it. Who knew that he’d eventually drive a Bentley? He can’t wait to have pinstriping added to spiff it up. He still dreams daily about finishing fixing up his 1960s Buick stored in his workshop where all his other projects remain waiting for him.
• Medications for preventing high BP and seizures have been challenging to regulate. The highs and lows (low enough (70/47) to trigger an unplanned visit to the ER on 9/20/2024) have caused issues in his energy to do therapy. The irony of him having low blood pressure when the high pressure is what caused the stroke in the first place has been a challenge to work around. That course of regulation is on a better path after seeing the ER doctor & following up with a cardiologist who agreed the culprit medication removal would help his recovery care plan.
• Therapy – ah…therapy for left paralysis/neglect. (I won’t get into the struggle to have insurance cover therapy…it’s too stressful). We’re thankful for every therapy session. The care team (ST/OT/PT) works in the background to ensure they all include the key queuing: “Look to the left.”; “You’ll find it if you look further left.”; “Keep scanning left.” “It’s over on your left.” “I’m on your left.” “Did you see it when you scanned left?” We as his family members remember that early on in recovery, Mr. couldn’t even hold up his head, let alone look left. Now he can do so quickly without cues. Often independently, depending upon the day/time/energy with prompting cues. We sound like the “look to the left choir” if you walk past his room and hear us cheering him on.
• Mr. has reflex and spontaneous movement on the left side and feels movement and pain when the temperature (aka, my cold hand) touches him. Other times he’s looking for “Todd” (his arm) and “Troy” (his leg) to make sure they’re there and still okay.
• Mr. has been working on transfers. For a perspective, think about how each day you sit up on the side of the bed, after scooting your butt across to the side of the bed to stand up and get on with your day. Mr. has to add a pivot onto a wheelchair or a commode (without a sling under his butt and a lift with a two-person team helping him fly through the air between surfaces). He’ll need the core strength to do those moves and when he rides up and down the stairlifts. Transfers are the necessary skills he needs to come home safely. It’s a BIG deal.
• Mr. dreams daily about going home and participating in completing his to-do list. He approaches therapy with such determination it inspires us non-stop. His sense of humor keeps us all going.

What about me? Well…

Here’s a quick list of updates.

• I renewed my blog fees. Thus another blog post. I still feel terrible that I don’t keep up with responding/replying to comments. And I miss reading your blogs too. I hope you are all doing well and enjoying life – embrace it!!
• I still make it a point to walk 1-2 miles daily to clear my head.
• I stopped missing being out in the Tea House and wandering around the yard to take photos. Don’t worry, I still look out there fondly and dream of how Mr. and I will get out there together someday.
• I didn’t cry too much when I discovered water leaks – 1 in our basement ceiling that flooded down the walls behind the sheetrock soaking 1/4 of the room, 1 in our family room coming down the chimney spout (rotted wood and woodpecker holes to blame…still waiting for the construction company to accept the job to fix it before the snow flies), and a new 1 I discovered last night under our kitchen sink…
• If you remember, Mr. was our chef and thus I miss his cooking 3 times/day. I found a couple of recipes I can cook and keep myself fed for days at a time. I think I’ve even found my way around the grocery store for my memorized list of items needed. Mr. reminds me that I should get the app for the grocery store on my phone. He forgets how non-techy I am.
• I’ve learned to steer a wheelchair without hitting things (people/walls) when I go with Mr. in transport vans for appointments. I think there are some interesting stories about those adventures (and the drivers) I’ll look back on someday to share.
• My arm/back muscles are getting stronger. I help the care staff ‘boost’ and ‘turn’ Mr. during care. My advocacy muscles are extra strong – the doctors, caregivers, and nurses know I mean business. Mr. just smiled when I told him that the ER notes from this month said, “…is accompanied by a very pleasant wife who is a great historian.”
• I pause to write in a journal while I enjoy a cup of coffee every day.
• I’ve been better at saying, “That’s good enough for now.” And accepting that the dust bunnies have been damn busy the past 100 days.
• I’m still sober in so many ways, 168 days and counting.
• I remain in awe of the human body’s and brain’s resiliency.
• Mostly, I rarely say no, and have adapted and embraced the coddiwompleness of, “We can’t do it the old way, but we sure can find a new way or a modified way – just watch us.” And that WILL help us get Mr. home. Soon we hope…soon.

Well…my blogging time slot is gone again. I miss you all dearly and hope your lives are filled with joy and awe! Hugs to all of you until we meet here again!