The Brotherhood of the Disabled

I started this blog back in December as a means of helping raise awareness about stroke - how anyone can be affected, what the risk factors are and how to help stroke-survivors.

Well, it certainly seems to be doing that - it's had well over 200 page views in the past week. As a journalist, I know the importance of getting out there and telling the story. That's why I agreed to be interviewed on BBC Radio WM last week and why I appeared in my local paper, the Tamworth Herald, on Thursday (http://www.tamworthherald.co.uk/Just-49-suffered-major-stroke-Martin-fighting/story-26195221-detail/story.html).

The Herald story, in particular, seems to have been well-received. I spoke to a fair number of people who had seen it either in the paper or on their website; I hope it will have helped some of them to a greater understanding of the condition and maybe inspire them to support some of the stroke/brain injury charities I support, such as the Stroke Association, Different Strokes or Headway.

But this week, I want to ask you to give a thought to one of my ex-bosses. I won't name him, because I don't need to, but he was a prime candidate for a stress-related stroke; long unsocial hours, bad diet, fearsome temper (He could kick a waste bin like no-one I've ever met....). In the end, though, ignoring his diabetes got him. At the same time as I was in hospital, he was in hospital having one of his legs removed because of gangrene.

We met on Monday, for the first time since then, to have a drink or several with some old colleagues. Of course, everyone else wanted to know how I cope living with a stroke; I wanted to know how he copes living with an artificial leg - at least I'm still in one piece after all, even if it is damaged goods.

But he was as stoic as I am - life is what it is now, we can't put back the clock, we have to get on with it. Yes, he gets angry at times; so do I. Yet what struck me about our situation was that he chaperoned me everywhere; sat me down in the pub, organised the trains, even organised a taxi from the train station to Warrillow Towers, an eight-minute walk which I do regularly. And he's the one with the artificial leg who must find it painful and difficult to walk.

I suppose you could call it The Brotherhood of the Disabled; whatever you call it, I continue to be deeply touched by and grateful for people's concern. I was glad I met him and my former colleagues from my previous life; the concern of all of them for myself and my ex-boss continued to show me the good side of humanity