The Stroke Files: Week 16

It’s been four months since my dad experienced a massive stroke. I’d like to say that things are back to normal, but real life isn’t a fairytale. Sometimes you have to walk through hell before you can reach heaven. Right now, we’re in the “hell” part of the journey. I’m still hoping for a happy ending, but we’re not quite there yet.

I feel like a broken record every time someone asks about my father. I reply that progress is slow. It’s the truth. Honestly, I think most people really want to hear some type of quick-fix miracle recovery story. They aren’t too interested in hearing the hard truth, the stressful, heart-breaking saga that continues to drag on for months or sometimes years. The reality is that you can’t just bounce back from a massive brain injury, no matter how much you want it to happen. My father is fighting with every fiber in his body to recover, but his life–and my mom’s life–are on pause right now. It’s a weird state of limbo, not knowing when or if it will end. I know it’s terribly frustrating not only for us, but also for him — most of all for him.

The good news is that he has been making progress in outpatient therapy. Recently, I reminded my Dad that he couldn’t move his right leg. It’s been paralyzed since the stroke. He grabbed his right leg immediately with his left hand –to show me that he could use his hand to lift it. I acknowledged that he could move it using his left arm, but he couldn’t lift it unaided. I placed his left hand to the side and asked him to raise his right leg. He looked at me and promptly lifted it two inches off the floor! I was flabbergasted. With a look of shock on my face, I glanced at my Mom and asked if she’d ever seen him do that before. The look on her face displayed her answer before she gave an audible reply. It was the first time since the stroke that he had moved his leg on command. In the midst of all of the dark moments of the last few months, it was a small triumph.

We’ve also experienced a few small victories in speech and cognition over the last couple of weeks. My dad can’t speak or write yet, but sometimes words (and even phrases) will just pop out randomly. It may not seem like a big deal to those of you who are reading this, but trust me, it is. For four months, it’s been like trying to communicate with someone who is speaking a foreign language. I can’t fully articulate how sweet it is to comprehend even one word. Small victories, indeed.

My family’s journey through hell is full of bad days intermingled with some good ones. I hope that as we move forward, the mix will change, and we’ll see more good days in our future. Each baby step of progress is a victory, and my hope for recovery rests in a continuous series of small victories.

I believe that everything you face in life is supposed to teach you something. Sometimes you have the clarity of mind to understand the lesson you are learning while going through the experience. At other times, you don’t have a clue. I think I’ll look back someday on this situation and understand it more fully, but for now, I’ll just say that it’s taught me to appreciate life (and those who are important in my life) more. Don’t ever take your loved ones for granted:

…Savor each moment with them; it’s special.

…Don’t let the challenges in your life drag you down or tear you apart.

…Life is fleeting; take time to enjoy it.

…Don’t ever forget to tell people you love them; find a way to show them they are special.