I was speaking this week to some members of a business networking group with which I'm involved. I told them my story, talked about how I put my stroke down to work stress and how I now tell friends and former colleagues about the dangers of thinking that there are 28 hours in a day and that most of them should be spent working.
As usually happens, my audience nodded sagely and wrote down key points about what I was saying. And I've no doubt that, as usually happens, everyone forgot what I'd said within ten minutes of leaving the meeting. Working stupid hours and piling on the pressure often comes with the territory in the world of work, especially for the self-employed; fighting against it can often cause problems with employers or, in the case of the business-owner, the customers from whom you make a living.
But there had been a story in the news that morning which gave me another angle of attack - one which I'm sure my audience of parents and grandparents, aunties and uncles hadn't really thought about and which really did cause them to ponder.
I'm talking about the dangers of energy drinks - beloved by so many young people yet incredibly dangerous as a risk factor in causing strokes. The high amounts of caffeine in these drinks mean they can raise the blood pressure to absurd levels very quickly, thus making a stroke much more likely.
One of my very best friends in the strokie world, who had her stroke when she was 14, attributes it entirely to the amount of energy drinks she was consuming at the time. Understandably, she is passionate about making her school and college friends and other young people aware of the risks. In fact, she used the words 'the devil's juice' about energy drinks in a discussion about this story on one of the stroke-survivor websites I use. I wouldn't disagree.
I know many schools now ban energy drinks from the premises but that doesn't stop young people from having them elsewhere (and others, of course - I know successful businessmen who used to exist almost solely on a diet of energy drinks).
My audience at that talk left ready to tell their children, nephews, nieces etc about the risks of energy drinks and perhaps even stop them using them. And if one young person is able to escape a stroke as a result, I'll be happy.
•YOU might recall that I discussed my writing difficulties in last week's post. I'm pleased to say that a solution has been found which will enable me to use my laptop in the exam, rather than have to struggle with pen and paper.
Wednesday 10 February 2016
Wednesday 3 February 2016
It's as easy as picking up a pen. Really?
Writing is what I do. It's been my raison d'etre ever since I was at school and even now, 40 years later, it's still what I love.
News stories of 400 words, football match reports of 800 words, 'think-pieces' of anything up to 2,000 words, all flow easily. I have 14,000 words of a book about my recovery sitting on the back-burner somewhere in my computer and I am 8,000 words into a novella which I intend to publish in the spring.
I know it's a wonderful gift and something happened this week which made me realise how fortunate I am to have it and how lucky I am still to be able to use it.
My stroke damaged my left side and although I recovered the use of my left arm and hand (my writing hand, that is) fairly quickly, there is still some residual weakness. Carrying a hot cup of coffee can be inadvisable to the point of foolishness, my left hand sometimes curls up into a ball of its own accord and while I am able to write using a pen or pencil, I would prefer not to - it's too painful.
In the college course I'm undertaking, I use my laptop computer for the purposes of note-taking, typing with one (sometimes two - get me!!) fingers of my right hand. But this week, as part of a mock exam, I had to handwrite for 25 minutes then, after a break of about 15-20 minutes, for another half-hour.
Reader, it was agony. My wrist quickly stiffened up and began to ache; the dull ache transmitted itself up my arm towards my elbow. After 15 minutes, the apparently simple act of gripping a pen was difficult. A few more minutes and my handwriting, never particularly legible at best, was a spidery and child-like scrawl. I could hardly hold the pen, never mind write with it. I couldn't wait to get back to the security of a computer keyboard. And I have only mild left-sided weakness.
I know too many stroke-survivors and other disabled people for whom the apparently simple act of picking up a pen and writing is close to impossible. Those who have to communicate with the world solely by computer keyboard - and who get tired out even doing that. If the stroke or other disability has scrambled their brain sufficiently that even putting the words in the right order is a challenge, it must be Hell.
So I'm lucky to still be able to know what I want to say and to be able to say it coherently, even if it is via computer keyboard. But the realisation this week that something I love doing is still a huge challenge, more than two years post-stroke, was just a little frightening.
News stories of 400 words, football match reports of 800 words, 'think-pieces' of anything up to 2,000 words, all flow easily. I have 14,000 words of a book about my recovery sitting on the back-burner somewhere in my computer and I am 8,000 words into a novella which I intend to publish in the spring.
I know it's a wonderful gift and something happened this week which made me realise how fortunate I am to have it and how lucky I am still to be able to use it.
My stroke damaged my left side and although I recovered the use of my left arm and hand (my writing hand, that is) fairly quickly, there is still some residual weakness. Carrying a hot cup of coffee can be inadvisable to the point of foolishness, my left hand sometimes curls up into a ball of its own accord and while I am able to write using a pen or pencil, I would prefer not to - it's too painful.
In the college course I'm undertaking, I use my laptop computer for the purposes of note-taking, typing with one (sometimes two - get me!!) fingers of my right hand. But this week, as part of a mock exam, I had to handwrite for 25 minutes then, after a break of about 15-20 minutes, for another half-hour.
Reader, it was agony. My wrist quickly stiffened up and began to ache; the dull ache transmitted itself up my arm towards my elbow. After 15 minutes, the apparently simple act of gripping a pen was difficult. A few more minutes and my handwriting, never particularly legible at best, was a spidery and child-like scrawl. I could hardly hold the pen, never mind write with it. I couldn't wait to get back to the security of a computer keyboard. And I have only mild left-sided weakness.
I know too many stroke-survivors and other disabled people for whom the apparently simple act of picking up a pen and writing is close to impossible. Those who have to communicate with the world solely by computer keyboard - and who get tired out even doing that. If the stroke or other disability has scrambled their brain sufficiently that even putting the words in the right order is a challenge, it must be Hell.
So I'm lucky to still be able to know what I want to say and to be able to say it coherently, even if it is via computer keyboard. But the realisation this week that something I love doing is still a huge challenge, more than two years post-stroke, was just a little frightening.
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