When I got home on January 5th, everything changed. I had finally busted out of the hospital and was in charge of my own recovery. I was glad to finally take matters into my own hands.
My dad stuck around until January 8th while mom decided to stay. Brian and Erica had gone home while I was still in Rehab on 12/30, because I was in such good hands. Saying goodbye sucked, big time, but in the big picture, it meant independence. I lived alone before, and I was determined to live alone again. Not because I’m a loner; I’m actually the opposite and I love being around others. But I like living alone because it means I don’t depend on anybody for help. The stroke has taught me how to accept help and also appreciate it, but first I want to try doing things on my own.
Until I was ready to really be alone, we planned on having my mom live with me until the end of March or beginning of April. She left February 5. I hope she knows I am saying this with all the love in my heart, but I’m glad she’s gone and that she went back to NYC earlier than both of us had predicted. The fact that I can depend on myself for everyday things proves that the rehab I got over the holidays was just right and that going home was the best thing for me. It also proves that I am fully capable, which is what I wanted.
I had dinner the night I came home with Michelle, Tod, Lydia, Mike and my parents. They provided much needed laughs and company; and really helped me realize how important friends are. They also relieved some of the stress my parents were feeling. A week later, Gabe, Andrew and Dennis came over and did the same. Brad has been there through it all, and Robert has made sure that work is not a worry for me. I can’t stress enough how important friends are; I can’t name everyone who has touched my life, doing so would be impossible, so I’ll only talk about the core group here, but seriously I wouldn’t have made it this far without friends, and I wouldn’t be able to head towards a full recovery either. I know I’m incredibly fortunate.
One of the first things I did when I got home was I signed up for RRF’s 10k training program.
I had to run again; it’s what I love doing the most. What better way to start again, than rejoin the group that had welcomed me with open arms and had been with me through my darkest times? Well, the only thing I can think of is signing up for races that will force me to train:
Yup, I signed up for the Chicago Marathon. Yes I know I’m crazy, but a whole bunch of my friends and family are doing it too. To me though, there’s no better way to mark my comeback.
I did go meet RRF on January 18th. RRF meets for a short run on Tuesdays, and a longer one on Saturdays. After the run on Tuesdays, a group of us like to go to the nearby bar for a beer. This tradition has become known as Beer Tuesday. I couldn’t yet run, and because of the Coumadin, my alcohol intake is limited, so I just met the group for company and water. I went again on the 25th, and started walking with them on February 1st.
I started outpatient therapy after being discharged from the rehab hospital. In PT, I learned how to walk straight and fast. It’s amazing what you take for granted until you can no longer do it. In addition to walking, I learned to run, jump, stand on one leg and balance in general.
In OT, I learned how to survive, to say the least. We went over and practiced my fine motor skills, which helped me shower, dress, cook, and most importantly, drive.
I can drive now. To me, that’s incredible. It gives me freedom to go anywhere my car will take me. It’s just as important to me as walking. The two of them together mean freedom, and that’s most important to me and my recovery.
I’m done with OT on the condition that work goes smoothly. Though my therapist was great, the way work and everything else have been going, I don’t think I’ll be going back.
In ST, I work on how I sound. I don’t quite sound like what I used to sound like, but at least now I can have a conversation without the other person constantly asking me to repeat myself. My voice is a work in progress. Right now, I’m still conscious of it, so I’m a bit more quiet than I usually am in public. I know a whole bunch of people will be in uproar over that comment, but I know. Trust me I know; I sound way better than I used to, and I sound amazing considering what happened. But I am impatient, and I am a perfectionist. Getting sentences out now and getting the sounds right is still difficult and tiring. Talking is still a chore for me. I won’t be happy with my voice until I don’t have trouble speaking anymore. I won’t be happy until it comes out naturally, like it does for everyone else.
I know I have a long way to go, but I think I’m on my way there.
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