Strokeversary thoughts

How should one mark the anniversary of an event which nearly killed you and in any event, changed your life irrevocably?

Unsurprisingly, it's a question which stroke-survivors ask ourselves and our fellow strokies a lot. Do we mourn for the life we lost on that day and the old version of us which went with it? Or do we celebrate the fact that we survived to tell the tale and enjoy all the things we have done with our 'new' lives since then?

Do we continue treating each new day as a blessing, 24 hours to be enjoyed and appreciated as much as we can? Do we look back in anger and ask 'why me?' Or do we, like Oasis, decide not to take that path and instead ask "Why not me, I'm no different to anyone else'?

Of course, there's a reason for all this philosophical musing. Today, Wednesday December 16 2015, is the second anniversary of the afternoon when, as I've said a million times since, I suffered a stroke while crossing a busy road near my home in Tamworth, collapsed and was nearly run over by a 47-seater bus.

I pass the scene of the crime almost every day, so I long since stopped suffering from flashbacks about it, which I know trouble many strokies. But it's inevitable that this day will cause me to stop and think. What was I doing? Where had I been? Did I have any warning? (Answer - no). Is there anything I would have done differently? (Answer - no. There are two routes I could have taken from Tamworth railway station to Warrillow Towers and taking the other route would only have seen me collapse on a busier road).

And the next few weeks will, I'm sure, be full of memories. Being rushed to hospital. Spending four weeks there over Christmas and New Year. Being paralysed for a while. Starting the painful process of re-learning how to walk and talk and write and generally survive. Being thrown into the world of the disabled person. All the inevitable questions about my future (many of which are still unresolved two years later).

It's been an extraordinary journey; it still is and I don't see it stopping any time soon. One full of ups and downs, one which is unpredictable from one day to the next. I wish I wasn't facing up to the prospect of never doing full-time work again - I'm far too young for that. I wish being a strokie didn't sometimes seem to define my life. I wish I could walk properly. I wish I wasn't brain-damaged. I wish I didn't have to take blood-thinners, watch my alcohol intake, be on a seemingly never-ending treadmill of medical appointments. I sometimes wish people didn't ask me "How are you" and mean it. I'm fine, by the way. I got up this morning and I'm breathing; that'll do.

But I'm grateful that I wake up every morning to face another day. I'm grateful for all the new experiences I've had, for all the wonderful people I've met and continue to meet, both virtually and in real life; I'm grateful for whatever put me on the long road to trying to qualify as a counsellor, I'm grateful, as so many strokies say, for a second chance at life.

So I won't be miserable today; I won't mourn my old life. Yes, I'll think about the events of December 16 2013 and immediately after but I've moved on to my new life. I might even take the advice of one of my best strokie friends who said the best way to mark the day was 'get a few bottles of cheap wine and just get p***ed' (as much as I'm allowed to, given my tablets and my streaming cold).

But, like Oasis, I definitely don't see the point of looking back in anger. It's happened, there's nothing I can do about it, I just have to get on with whatever life throws at me. And Warriors tend to be pretty good at that.