A CHANGE IN PLANS

              The crimson leaves have fallen and October winds are tugging at the golden needles of the tamarack. Hallowe’en is just around the corner. It is time to think about snow tires, home insulation and winter clothes.

            Woody Allen said: “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.”  How true.

            After a lengthy illness my husband died on July 10--not of emphysema and chronic chest problems from which he suffered for so long, but of an aneurism.  In late August we had a celebration of his life here at the house with friends, children and grand-children from all over Canada and the U.S.  I gave myself permission to weep and sigh until the first of September, at which time I would set a schedule of walking, exercising, writing, marketing my book, and getting my life in  order. On the second day of September, I had a stroke. My left leg and arm quit and I keeled over.

             Fortunately I live only minutes from the hospital and doctors and other medical staff were waiting when the ambulance pulled in. Blood thinners, clot busters and meds to counteract the side effects were all administered immediately and I was whirled from one diagnostic device to another. My first thought was that I had developed a brain tumor, as my late brother Joe had. So, to find it was only a stroke was somewhat of a relief.

            The care I had was superb...nurses, doctors, technicians, housekeeping staff…couldn’t have been kinder. But the noise of the bells, the voices overhead paging, paging, paging, and all the activity around my room was truly unsettling.  After a few days I could walk with a walker by myself, providing I took care where to place my left foot, but my brain was another story. It felt as if some puckish office temp had come in and miss-filed the contents. I knew I was at the hospital but all the trips to the hospital I’d made over the last 20 years, at various times with Dad, Mom, my brother Joe, my sister Beatrice, her husband Aage, and my husband Robert, all ran together.  I couldn’t remember where I’d stashed them, and became frantic. But that got sorted out. Then I couldn’t remember the names of my cats. I asked for a pencil and paper to write them down but since I am left handed, I couldn’t write legibly. Fortunately my sisters and my sister-in-law came daily and reassured me that my critters were being looked after. And every time I lifted my left arm my hand would fall on my face with an undeserved swat.

            I understand the clot was on the right side of my brain, since it is my left side which is still weak.

            Before I left the hospital. Dr. Bruce Lockhart told me about a book by Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor called My Stroke of Insight. My sister picked it up at the Acorn book store for me the first time she went to Woodstock.  What a lift that book has given me!

      When I got home from the hospital, all the critters greeted me, then found a place on my lap or around my chair. Even the pictures on my walls (all done by friends and family) seemed to shimmer with love and hope. My eldest sister came home from North Carolina and stayed a couple of weeks. My other sisters have been in every day and the neighbors have brought food, cards, and assisted in dozens of ways from moving furniture to mowing lawns.

            It is now the end of October, almost two months since the stroke. I am still doing exercises with my hand and legs. I am sleeping nearly 20 hours out of 24, but I am delighted to be recovering so quickly. Simple tasks one does automatically, such as operate the oven or the TV remote, I had to relearn. Names and nouns stay just out of reach, so holding a conversation or trying to handle a phone call breaks me out in a real sweat.

            With my sisters riding shotgun, I have driven the car. In fact my driving seems to be improving, because I am so conscious of every move and turn. Yet a trip to town (16 miles) wipes me out for the rest of the day. Fortunately I have now had the follow-up blood work and other tests, so I don’t have to go anywhere.

            It is amazing how a serious health threat brings my days into focus. Despite the stroke, despite losing my husband and despite my lack of energy, I am deeply aware that life is a miraculous and precious gift. I also know the power of loving friends and family, even my four-legged furfaces, in helping me heal.

            At the time I took care of my late husband’s last wishes, I arranged with the lawyer and the funeral director to look after my will and the disposal of my body. It is a relief  to have that taken care of. As for the big three—cancer, heart attack and stroke—I can now say “been there, done that.” Fear no longer has a place in my life.  Well, not much anyway.

            Right now I am doing everything I can to maintain my independence. I am eating properly. I am using the stationary bicycle and, not to brag or anything, I finally cleaned off my desk.  I still have a lot of mail to answer and I haven’t spent much time on the internet, but that will come.