They are God’s way of telling you that he’s still in charge.
You will recover at his pace no matter how impatient you are.
Little electrical circuits run around in the top of your head. They
stop and shock the hell out of you every now and then to get your
attention. Tylenol takes care of the subsequent headaches.
You play little math games and memory games trying to recover
the mental edge that you have lost.
It’s tough to wipe your a$$ left-handed. Even tougher right-handed
with no feelings in your fingers and a club at the end of your arm.
When you have to take a leak, your member is difficult to find and hold,
as the stroke has caused it to go as limp/numb as your side and other
parts. At 85, it wasn’t getting any use anyway and had been abused most
of its life. Also, at this point, you realize that Lasix is a tool of the devil.
When you try and eat with a fork the first time, your food is sometimes
flipped over your right shoulder. Yorkies like rice and gravy, and wives
break out laughing when you tell them about it.
You watch carefully every step you take so you won’t trip over a leaf,
or any other small article as you feel as though you are falling forward
at all times.
Physical therapists have as much patience as your wife.
Nobody thinks you should drive except you.
Neurologists do MRIs and ultrasounds, then send you home reminding
you to take your aspirin and Plavix, and come back in 90 days. I guess
they see dozens of stroke patients a day, but they don’t realize this
one was mine.
If you don’t have a sense of humor, you’ll go nuts.
You will recover at his pace no matter how impatient you are.
Little electrical circuits run around in the top of your head. They
stop and shock the hell out of you every now and then to get your
attention. Tylenol takes care of the subsequent headaches.
You play little math games and memory games trying to recover
the mental edge that you have lost.
It’s tough to wipe your a$$ left-handed. Even tougher right-handed
with no feelings in your fingers and a club at the end of your arm.
When you have to take a leak, your member is difficult to find and hold,
as the stroke has caused it to go as limp/numb as your side and other
parts. At 85, it wasn’t getting any use anyway and had been abused most
of its life. Also, at this point, you realize that Lasix is a tool of the devil.
When you try and eat with a fork the first time, your food is sometimes
flipped over your right shoulder. Yorkies like rice and gravy, and wives
break out laughing when you tell them about it.
You watch carefully every step you take so you won’t trip over a leaf,
or any other small article as you feel as though you are falling forward
at all times.
Physical therapists have as much patience as your wife.
Nobody thinks you should drive except you.
Neurologists do MRIs and ultrasounds, then send you home reminding
you to take your aspirin and Plavix, and come back in 90 days. I guess
they see dozens of stroke patients a day, but they don’t realize this
one was mine.
If you don’t have a sense of humor, you’ll go nuts.
Last edited: