Like too many of us these days, the first thing I do when I come downstairs in the morning is check my phone; text messages, emails, Facebook, the ESPN Sportscenter website (don't ask....).
Only when that is done do I open the curtains, feed the cat and the dog and do all my other early-morning tasks.
Often, the only thing of importance is another rude email from the bank or a message from one of my strokie friends on the west coast of the USA. On Friday, however, one message really shook me out of half-sleep.
It was from a (necessarily anonymous) friend who said that two people very close to her had been forced to deal with stroke in the last couple of weeks. One involved someone suffering a fatal stroke, another person had been left paralysed down their left side (as I was, of course).
My friend was seeking advice, help, details of support groups and so on; it's a scenario I come across all too often. Stroke hits completely unexpectedly and often, the person involved, their family and friends haven't a clue where to turn.
The NHS does its best with limited resources but their focus is on the person who has had the stroke, not their family and friends. Yet these people also find their lives turned upside down in an instant. They may have to give up work/reduce their hours to care for someone, so finance becomes a major issue; they almost certainly don't know where to go for help and advice; they don't know what is going to happen in the long term; they probably don't know what caused the stroke; they don't know what the after-effects (which can be many and varied - every single stroke is different) will be. The stress is enormous. And the one thing survivors are supposed to avoid is stress.
They need someone to talk to and stroke-support groups for carers and survivors are crucial. So often, I come across people who ask if this or that symptom is normal post-stroke - whether it's depression, mood-swings, sensitivity to noise, forgetfulness, fatigue or any one of plenty more. Too many people aren't told what will happen, when it will happen, whether the survivor will get better and how quickly and so on.
Joining support groups or just talking to survivors and carers is an important part of the rehabilitation process. Yet funding for groups like this is, unsurprisingly, not easy to find. Which is why blogs like this and the work so many survivors and carers do in educating others are so important.
I love writing this blog every Wednesday. I'd do it even if no-one was reading it. But messages like that I received on Friday make me realise why I do it.
Wednesday, 18 November 2015
Thursday, 12 November 2015
Camera-shy? Me? No, of course not.....
At a networking meeting I attended this morning, someone said that most people's biggest phobia surrounds having to speak in public (Obviously, the speaker, who is a life coach, wasn't one of them.)
Public speaking, either to an audience, into a microphone or into a TV camera, has never bothered me. I was sports editor of the student radio station at Loughborough University in the mid-80s, I've done countless presentations to business networking meetings and since my stroke, I've appeared on radio and TV talking about my experience.
I've even done presentations in the nude to entirely naked audiences at naturist events. After all, they do say one of the best ways to combat public-speaking phobia (is there a word for it?) is to imagine that the audience is nude.
Consequently, when I get the chance to educate an audience anywhere about stroke, I generally take it. I was contacted recently by Megan Trowell, production co-ordinator for a new project from the Stroke Association called "My Stroke Guide.' It's intended as (I quote...) "a digital self-management tool to support people in their recovery following a stroke."
Available on mainstream digital platforms, it will feature information on how to deal with the effects of stroke, advice and signposting on key issues that people face after stroke, goal-setting tools and graphs for individuals, memory and concentration games, peer-to-peer support, online forums and an extensive video library.
Megan wanted me to tell my story for six of those videos, each dealing with some of the problems that all strokies face and how I have managed (or failed) to deal with them.
Megan and her camerawoman Rochielle spent five hours on Wednesday this week at Warrillow Towers, filming me telling my story and relating my experiences over issues such as headaches, vision problems, fatigue, irritability and the like.
It all went superbly (I think) and I am looking forward to seeing the results. At the moment, because the site is so new, stroke survivors who are interested in the project will get a log-in and an introduction to the site from a member of staff at the Stroke Association who will support them to use it. Therefore, MSG is currently only available to people living within an area where there is a Stroke Association service supported by the local health board or authority and/or the NHS via a contract.
Obviously, the eventual aim is for all stroke survivors to be able to use it but, as always, money will probably be the issue. If and when I hear more, I'll blog about it here.
I must also give my usual quick shout-out to the amazing Emily Smedley. You may recall that last week's session saw me failing dismally to climb on to a platform using my stroke-affected left foot first, then trying and failing to hang a few inches off the ground and being defeated by my poorly left shoulder.
Well, things were a little better this week. I still didn't manage the platform, but I felt slightly more confident in doing both that and trying to hang, while we did plenty of work on my affected visual field; I tried (sometimes successfully!!) to catch a ball and a falling pole using only my left hand.
Throughout it all, I kept thinking (as I have often said here) "no such word as can't" and I will get there, even if it takes a while.
PS - I am indebted to Tarnya Brink, who read this post and has now educated me with the knowledge that the fear of public speaking is called glossophobia.
Public speaking, either to an audience, into a microphone or into a TV camera, has never bothered me. I was sports editor of the student radio station at Loughborough University in the mid-80s, I've done countless presentations to business networking meetings and since my stroke, I've appeared on radio and TV talking about my experience.
I've even done presentations in the nude to entirely naked audiences at naturist events. After all, they do say one of the best ways to combat public-speaking phobia (is there a word for it?) is to imagine that the audience is nude.
Consequently, when I get the chance to educate an audience anywhere about stroke, I generally take it. I was contacted recently by Megan Trowell, production co-ordinator for a new project from the Stroke Association called "My Stroke Guide.' It's intended as (I quote...) "a digital self-management tool to support people in their recovery following a stroke."
Available on mainstream digital platforms, it will feature information on how to deal with the effects of stroke, advice and signposting on key issues that people face after stroke, goal-setting tools and graphs for individuals, memory and concentration games, peer-to-peer support, online forums and an extensive video library.
Megan wanted me to tell my story for six of those videos, each dealing with some of the problems that all strokies face and how I have managed (or failed) to deal with them.
Megan and her camerawoman Rochielle spent five hours on Wednesday this week at Warrillow Towers, filming me telling my story and relating my experiences over issues such as headaches, vision problems, fatigue, irritability and the like.
It all went superbly (I think) and I am looking forward to seeing the results. At the moment, because the site is so new, stroke survivors who are interested in the project will get a log-in and an introduction to the site from a member of staff at the Stroke Association who will support them to use it. Therefore, MSG is currently only available to people living within an area where there is a Stroke Association service supported by the local health board or authority and/or the NHS via a contract.
Obviously, the eventual aim is for all stroke survivors to be able to use it but, as always, money will probably be the issue. If and when I hear more, I'll blog about it here.
I must also give my usual quick shout-out to the amazing Emily Smedley. You may recall that last week's session saw me failing dismally to climb on to a platform using my stroke-affected left foot first, then trying and failing to hang a few inches off the ground and being defeated by my poorly left shoulder.
Well, things were a little better this week. I still didn't manage the platform, but I felt slightly more confident in doing both that and trying to hang, while we did plenty of work on my affected visual field; I tried (sometimes successfully!!) to catch a ball and a falling pole using only my left hand.
Throughout it all, I kept thinking (as I have often said here) "no such word as can't" and I will get there, even if it takes a while.
PS - I am indebted to Tarnya Brink, who read this post and has now educated me with the knowledge that the fear of public speaking is called glossophobia.
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| The Warrior being filmed this week |
Wednesday, 4 November 2015
Why I'll never be a left-winger - not yet, anyway
It's often said by stroke-survivors that coming out on the other side of something so life-threatening gives you a new perspective on life.
Because no stroke results in the same after-effects, we all deal with that in different ways. Some of us have severe speech problems, some are left dragging their affected side around 'like a sack of spuds' in the evocative phrase used by a close friend of mine, others such as myself have balance and memory issues, others lose large parts of their vision, some are intensely depressed by what has happened.
The various issues are caused by whichever part of the brain is affected (Google it....) and I consider myself somewhat fortunate to have got away relatively lightly. Since that fateful day in December 2013, I've been able to re-learn how to use my left side, I threw away my sticks in July of this year, I took part in a sponsored run last month, I'm training to be a counsellor, I've done plenty I wouldn't have dreamed of doing when I was a journalist.
This week delivered another first. Unsurprisingly, it involved physiotherapist Emily Smedley of breathebalancebeactivated. Since I successfully completed my 5km 'run' at the end of September, the focus of my work with Emily has changed. No longer do I lie on the couch for an hour, periodically screaming and howling in agony as she pokes, prods and pushes. For the last three weeks, we have spent time in the gym, with Emily teaching me the basics of boxing.
It's not just a matter of standing there and flinging punches, although it does help to get out some of my aggression and frustration; rather, my feet have to be in the right place and as we're practicing without gloves, my hands have to be positioned properly. Apparently, it's surprisingly easy to break a finger if you don't do it properly.
I've also been dragged backwards around the gym with an extendable band around my waist (it improves balance, apparently) but this week's efforts hit new heights - or tried to.
Emily was only asking me to step up on to a platform which was about a foot off the floor - but to do it using my affected left foot first. And it absolutely wouldn't go.
I could get up there by resting my hands on the platform, I could easily do it right foot first. But my left foot simply wouldn't play ball. It's a mental block, apparently. We'll be working on it.
We'll also be working on making me hang in the air with my hands gripping a high horizontal iron frame, with my feet off the floor. At my first attempt, my left shoulder wasn't having any of it; not only is that shoulder on my affected side, I've had problems with it previously.
Again, it's a mental issue; I did manage to do both these things after a fashion but not to my satisfaction; especially not when I watched Emily climbing over the gym equipment like Spiderwoman.
But I'll keep going; using the principle that 'there's no such word as can't' I will manage it and it will be another goal achieved, won't it?
And anyway.....she won't let me focus what I can't do, only on what I can do. Which is a pretty good mantra for stroke-survivors and disabled people everywhere.
Because no stroke results in the same after-effects, we all deal with that in different ways. Some of us have severe speech problems, some are left dragging their affected side around 'like a sack of spuds' in the evocative phrase used by a close friend of mine, others such as myself have balance and memory issues, others lose large parts of their vision, some are intensely depressed by what has happened.
The various issues are caused by whichever part of the brain is affected (Google it....) and I consider myself somewhat fortunate to have got away relatively lightly. Since that fateful day in December 2013, I've been able to re-learn how to use my left side, I threw away my sticks in July of this year, I took part in a sponsored run last month, I'm training to be a counsellor, I've done plenty I wouldn't have dreamed of doing when I was a journalist.
This week delivered another first. Unsurprisingly, it involved physiotherapist Emily Smedley of breathebalancebeactivated. Since I successfully completed my 5km 'run' at the end of September, the focus of my work with Emily has changed. No longer do I lie on the couch for an hour, periodically screaming and howling in agony as she pokes, prods and pushes. For the last three weeks, we have spent time in the gym, with Emily teaching me the basics of boxing.
It's not just a matter of standing there and flinging punches, although it does help to get out some of my aggression and frustration; rather, my feet have to be in the right place and as we're practicing without gloves, my hands have to be positioned properly. Apparently, it's surprisingly easy to break a finger if you don't do it properly.
I've also been dragged backwards around the gym with an extendable band around my waist (it improves balance, apparently) but this week's efforts hit new heights - or tried to.
Emily was only asking me to step up on to a platform which was about a foot off the floor - but to do it using my affected left foot first. And it absolutely wouldn't go.
I could get up there by resting my hands on the platform, I could easily do it right foot first. But my left foot simply wouldn't play ball. It's a mental block, apparently. We'll be working on it.
We'll also be working on making me hang in the air with my hands gripping a high horizontal iron frame, with my feet off the floor. At my first attempt, my left shoulder wasn't having any of it; not only is that shoulder on my affected side, I've had problems with it previously.
Again, it's a mental issue; I did manage to do both these things after a fashion but not to my satisfaction; especially not when I watched Emily climbing over the gym equipment like Spiderwoman.
But I'll keep going; using the principle that 'there's no such word as can't' I will manage it and it will be another goal achieved, won't it?
And anyway.....she won't let me focus what I can't do, only on what I can do. Which is a pretty good mantra for stroke-survivors and disabled people everywhere.
Wednesday, 28 October 2015
My biggest scare since you-know-when
Is there anything worse than someone who is near-evangelical with health and lifestyle advice on the back of something which happened to them, then goes and completely ignores that advice?
Probably not. With my hard-nosed journalist's hat on, I could call it hypocritical. As the person involved is me, let's just call it stupid.
My stroke taught me many things, but key among them were the importance of eating properly, reducing stress, not rushing around trying to do a million things at once, resting properly - all the things I talk about regularly.
One day this week, I stupidly ignored all that advice and came dangerously close to collapsing (why do I hate that word?) while out walking the dog in Tamworth's Castle Grounds.
I should have known at lunchtime that something wasn't right. It took too long to write my blog (were the lounge of Warrillow Towers an old newspaper office, the floor would have been awash with torn-up sheets of copy paper....), so I was rushing to have lunch before my 2pm appointment with my counsellor.
Lunch was supposed to be a jacket potato with a decent filling, but in my haste, I misread the time and when I got it out of the oven, it was still half-cold. So I put it back in the oven for the required time, then ended up rushing to eat it and leave the kitchen in a decent state before going out.
Unsurprisingly, I then went and vented at my counsellor for an hour, getting out all my frustrations and barely giving her space to speak; it needed doing, but in hindsight, it was just getting me more wound up. I came home just in time to feed the dog and cat, grabbed ten minutes in front of the TV, then decided to take the dog for a walk. Is it any wonder that, as a fellow strokie put it this week about her own bad day, I felt light-headed and wobbly on my pins?
No, probably not.....
The dog and I have a regular route through Tamworth's idyllic Castle Grounds for our daily walks; he probably knows the way better than I do. About halfway through our walk, there is a bridge across the river; a left-turn takes us past the wonderful flower-beds by the Castle and through the Town Centre; a right-turn takes us home.
Normally, we turn left but I knew that if I didn't get home ASAP, I was likely to collapse (there's that word again) and leave the dog unattended. He has our address on his collar and could probably make his own way home without me from where we were, but I'd rather not let him try, thanks.
As we stood (sort of, in my case) waiting to cross the ridiculously busy road opposite Warrillow Towers, I knew I had to get home quickly, get some food and sit down before I blacked out. My legs were shaking, my head was woozy; this was worse than on that day in December 2013. On that occasion, I had no warning whatsoever about what was coming.
We just made it home as Mrs W was walking through the front door, having got home from the railway station. She sat me down, ordered me to have two large glasses of water and a couple of bananas and get some rest.
I barely got out of the chair for the rest of the evening and was in bed by 10pm. At my networking breakfast the following morning, plenty of people asked how I was 'after my wobble." I was OK, but I really could say I was glad to wake up breathing after what felt like a lot more than just a scare. It was proof that I should listen myself to the advice I give other people.
I've been conscious of that all week; I've eaten properly at breakfast and lunchtime, I've even gone to sleep in the afternoon to benefit from the restorative properties of the power-nap.
I've frightened myself this week. And I can assure you I won't be doing it again any time soon.
Probably not. With my hard-nosed journalist's hat on, I could call it hypocritical. As the person involved is me, let's just call it stupid.
My stroke taught me many things, but key among them were the importance of eating properly, reducing stress, not rushing around trying to do a million things at once, resting properly - all the things I talk about regularly.
One day this week, I stupidly ignored all that advice and came dangerously close to collapsing (why do I hate that word?) while out walking the dog in Tamworth's Castle Grounds.
I should have known at lunchtime that something wasn't right. It took too long to write my blog (were the lounge of Warrillow Towers an old newspaper office, the floor would have been awash with torn-up sheets of copy paper....), so I was rushing to have lunch before my 2pm appointment with my counsellor.
Lunch was supposed to be a jacket potato with a decent filling, but in my haste, I misread the time and when I got it out of the oven, it was still half-cold. So I put it back in the oven for the required time, then ended up rushing to eat it and leave the kitchen in a decent state before going out.
Unsurprisingly, I then went and vented at my counsellor for an hour, getting out all my frustrations and barely giving her space to speak; it needed doing, but in hindsight, it was just getting me more wound up. I came home just in time to feed the dog and cat, grabbed ten minutes in front of the TV, then decided to take the dog for a walk. Is it any wonder that, as a fellow strokie put it this week about her own bad day, I felt light-headed and wobbly on my pins?
No, probably not.....
The dog and I have a regular route through Tamworth's idyllic Castle Grounds for our daily walks; he probably knows the way better than I do. About halfway through our walk, there is a bridge across the river; a left-turn takes us past the wonderful flower-beds by the Castle and through the Town Centre; a right-turn takes us home.
Normally, we turn left but I knew that if I didn't get home ASAP, I was likely to collapse (there's that word again) and leave the dog unattended. He has our address on his collar and could probably make his own way home without me from where we were, but I'd rather not let him try, thanks.
As we stood (sort of, in my case) waiting to cross the ridiculously busy road opposite Warrillow Towers, I knew I had to get home quickly, get some food and sit down before I blacked out. My legs were shaking, my head was woozy; this was worse than on that day in December 2013. On that occasion, I had no warning whatsoever about what was coming.
We just made it home as Mrs W was walking through the front door, having got home from the railway station. She sat me down, ordered me to have two large glasses of water and a couple of bananas and get some rest.
I barely got out of the chair for the rest of the evening and was in bed by 10pm. At my networking breakfast the following morning, plenty of people asked how I was 'after my wobble." I was OK, but I really could say I was glad to wake up breathing after what felt like a lot more than just a scare. It was proof that I should listen myself to the advice I give other people.
I've been conscious of that all week; I've eaten properly at breakfast and lunchtime, I've even gone to sleep in the afternoon to benefit from the restorative properties of the power-nap.
I've frightened myself this week. And I can assure you I won't be doing it again any time soon.
Wednesday, 21 October 2015
Getting back on the networking horse
Regular readers will know that I'm a keen business networker, mostly as a member of 4Networking. Among other things, it raises my profile and the profile of the work I do in stroke support and education. Having been on the leadership teams of local 4N groups for three years, I've had to rein in my networking to a fair degree over the last few months because of my health issues.
But I was asked this week if I would join a new team to run the group in Lichfield, Staffordshire. As I won't be leading the group itself, just helping to run meetings, drum up interest and take admission money (among other things), I've agreed. I get on well with the new group leader, Ben Birchall, who runs an HR consultancy called Progression, so I think the team will work nicely.
The new team starts at the meeting on Thursday October 29 and I will be doing a talk about my recent run to raise money for stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes. If you're a 4N member, it would be great to see you there. If you're not and you are a business owner yourself, why not come along and find out what 4N's all about (and hear me speak, of course!)? To find out more about how 4N works, go to the website at www.4networking.biz.
Aside from that, which I see as another important step in my post-stroke rehabilitation, it's been another busy, up-and-down, week. On the plus side, I've been talking to a fellow stroke-survivor about possibly liaising on an e-book while I'm grateful to a lady I know in America, whose husband is a strokie, for suggesting that I write and self-publish a short novel. Hopefully, both ideas will be under way shortly.
College on Monday evening was slightly brain-twisting (not a good idea for a strokie, lol) but very rewarding, while Tuesday's session with #breathebalancebeactivated Emily was definitely of the 'if it's not hurting, it's not working' variety.
On the down side of the week, I was again reminded several times just how life as a stroke-survivor makes the mundane things in life annoyingly difficult at times. It wasn't that cold at Tamworth FC's Lamb ground on Saturday afternoon for the National League North clash with Solihull Moors, but the fact that my blood-thinning tablets leave me constantly cold made the terraces feel like the North Pole, making it near-impossible to concentrate on the game. Memo to self: Time to ditch the denim hooded jacket in favour of the thick waterproof 'football manager' coat with the 27 pockets and the several layers of warming material......
Then, there was my seemingly un-ending battle with fatigue. On at least three occasions this week, I have had to give up on the day and go to sleep for a couple of hours at downright inconvenient times while on at least two others, failure to do so has left me feeling as washed-out as an old rag.
Indeed, Mrs W and I were out on Tuesday evening with fellow members of a stroke-support group we attend when the former NHS team leader who runs the group told Carmel: "He's too tired, get him home and straight to sleep." And when Dawn tells you something, you stay told, believe me.....
One of these weeks, I will get a handle on the fatigue which plagues all stroke-survivors and as I wrote here last week, threatens my working future. This week, however, wasn't it.
But I was asked this week if I would join a new team to run the group in Lichfield, Staffordshire. As I won't be leading the group itself, just helping to run meetings, drum up interest and take admission money (among other things), I've agreed. I get on well with the new group leader, Ben Birchall, who runs an HR consultancy called Progression, so I think the team will work nicely.
The new team starts at the meeting on Thursday October 29 and I will be doing a talk about my recent run to raise money for stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes. If you're a 4N member, it would be great to see you there. If you're not and you are a business owner yourself, why not come along and find out what 4N's all about (and hear me speak, of course!)? To find out more about how 4N works, go to the website at www.4networking.biz.
Aside from that, which I see as another important step in my post-stroke rehabilitation, it's been another busy, up-and-down, week. On the plus side, I've been talking to a fellow stroke-survivor about possibly liaising on an e-book while I'm grateful to a lady I know in America, whose husband is a strokie, for suggesting that I write and self-publish a short novel. Hopefully, both ideas will be under way shortly.
College on Monday evening was slightly brain-twisting (not a good idea for a strokie, lol) but very rewarding, while Tuesday's session with #breathebalancebeactivated Emily was definitely of the 'if it's not hurting, it's not working' variety.
On the down side of the week, I was again reminded several times just how life as a stroke-survivor makes the mundane things in life annoyingly difficult at times. It wasn't that cold at Tamworth FC's Lamb ground on Saturday afternoon for the National League North clash with Solihull Moors, but the fact that my blood-thinning tablets leave me constantly cold made the terraces feel like the North Pole, making it near-impossible to concentrate on the game. Memo to self: Time to ditch the denim hooded jacket in favour of the thick waterproof 'football manager' coat with the 27 pockets and the several layers of warming material......
Then, there was my seemingly un-ending battle with fatigue. On at least three occasions this week, I have had to give up on the day and go to sleep for a couple of hours at downright inconvenient times while on at least two others, failure to do so has left me feeling as washed-out as an old rag.
Indeed, Mrs W and I were out on Tuesday evening with fellow members of a stroke-support group we attend when the former NHS team leader who runs the group told Carmel: "He's too tired, get him home and straight to sleep." And when Dawn tells you something, you stay told, believe me.....
One of these weeks, I will get a handle on the fatigue which plagues all stroke-survivors and as I wrote here last week, threatens my working future. This week, however, wasn't it.
Wednesday, 14 October 2015
Another week on the strokie roller-coaster
The first thing to say is that I haven't punched or sworn at anyone this week, which might come as a relief to anyone concerned about my welfare after last week's post.
That's not to say that the week has been easy; far from it. I saw my neuropsychologist last Thursday to get the results of the brain tests which were done last month. It's fair to say that they were a mixed bag.
In some areas, the results suggested that my brain has recovered to something like what it was pre-stroke. In others, there has been little or no progress. Some of this is probably due to post-stress fatigue and the catalogue of worries which come with post-stroke life, but some of it is obviously long-term harm.
Over the last 18 months, I've come to know a lot about the idea of neuroplasticity (strokies will understand, the rest of you can Google it, lol) and I would particularly recommend a book called 'The Brain That Changes Itself' by Norman Doidge. I was given it last year by a fellow strokie and found it useful in helping me to understand how the damaged brain finds new neural pathways (again, Google it) to replace those lost or damaged through traumatic injury.
This process takes years, of course. It helps those of us who are determined to be positive because it keeps us looking forward and seeing a half-full glass, but it can't acknowledge how difficult it is to deal with the day-to-day struggles of life while recovery continues.
For instance, those results have made me question where I am going on a long-term basis. Will I ever again be fit enough to work full-time (by which I mean a five-day 40-hour week)? If not, what does a future of part-time work look like at the age of 51? Is it more financially secure than where we are now? If not, what's Plan C? Or Plan D?
The neuropsychologist wants to see us again ASAP to discuss this further. I'm trying to be positive and, as always, just take each day as it comes. But I can understand why plenty of disabled people start to wonder how much more of this they can take. And I have only one thing to deal with - I know far too many who have rather more than one.
Let's lighten the mood, shall we? This week, I broke through the £1,000 barrier in terms of sponsorship received for my recent run in aid of stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes. You can still donate at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow. All the proceeds will go to helping DS (differentstrokes.co.uk) maintain the Facebook group which it runs and which has been an invaluable resource for me in terms of getting help, advice and most crucially, support in difficult times.
Given that I didn't have a target in mind when I first decided to do the run, I'm pleased and proud to have generated so much. Thanks to everyone who has sponsored and supported me; if I have helped to raise the profile of DS by one iota, all that pain was worth it.
Many of you will be aware that I have a long-term goal to qualify as a counsellor. For various reasons, my latest course got off to a shaky start but things really picked up this week and I promised a fellow student that I would give it a mention in this week's blog. For obvious reasons, I don't want to go too far but if any fellow students are reading this, they'll know who they are.
Finally, #breathebalancebeactivatedEmily suggested this week that I start to investigate having a proper presence on YouTube, talking about my situation. It's something I've never explored because I felt it was at the edge of my very limited technological ability. I should start now. As much advice as possible would be welcome. Just don't leave me as confused as I'm starting to feel about my financial future.
That's not to say that the week has been easy; far from it. I saw my neuropsychologist last Thursday to get the results of the brain tests which were done last month. It's fair to say that they were a mixed bag.
In some areas, the results suggested that my brain has recovered to something like what it was pre-stroke. In others, there has been little or no progress. Some of this is probably due to post-stress fatigue and the catalogue of worries which come with post-stroke life, but some of it is obviously long-term harm.
Over the last 18 months, I've come to know a lot about the idea of neuroplasticity (strokies will understand, the rest of you can Google it, lol) and I would particularly recommend a book called 'The Brain That Changes Itself' by Norman Doidge. I was given it last year by a fellow strokie and found it useful in helping me to understand how the damaged brain finds new neural pathways (again, Google it) to replace those lost or damaged through traumatic injury.
This process takes years, of course. It helps those of us who are determined to be positive because it keeps us looking forward and seeing a half-full glass, but it can't acknowledge how difficult it is to deal with the day-to-day struggles of life while recovery continues.
For instance, those results have made me question where I am going on a long-term basis. Will I ever again be fit enough to work full-time (by which I mean a five-day 40-hour week)? If not, what does a future of part-time work look like at the age of 51? Is it more financially secure than where we are now? If not, what's Plan C? Or Plan D?
The neuropsychologist wants to see us again ASAP to discuss this further. I'm trying to be positive and, as always, just take each day as it comes. But I can understand why plenty of disabled people start to wonder how much more of this they can take. And I have only one thing to deal with - I know far too many who have rather more than one.
Let's lighten the mood, shall we? This week, I broke through the £1,000 barrier in terms of sponsorship received for my recent run in aid of stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes. You can still donate at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow. All the proceeds will go to helping DS (differentstrokes.co.uk) maintain the Facebook group which it runs and which has been an invaluable resource for me in terms of getting help, advice and most crucially, support in difficult times.
Given that I didn't have a target in mind when I first decided to do the run, I'm pleased and proud to have generated so much. Thanks to everyone who has sponsored and supported me; if I have helped to raise the profile of DS by one iota, all that pain was worth it.
Many of you will be aware that I have a long-term goal to qualify as a counsellor. For various reasons, my latest course got off to a shaky start but things really picked up this week and I promised a fellow student that I would give it a mention in this week's blog. For obvious reasons, I don't want to go too far but if any fellow students are reading this, they'll know who they are.
Finally, #breathebalancebeactivatedEmily suggested this week that I start to investigate having a proper presence on YouTube, talking about my situation. It's something I've never explored because I felt it was at the edge of my very limited technological ability. I should start now. As much advice as possible would be welcome. Just don't leave me as confused as I'm starting to feel about my financial future.
Wednesday, 7 October 2015
Pillow talk......no, not like that, lol.
I've remarked previously that I try my best to keep this blog as positive as possible: 'you don't come here to see me moan" and all that......
Unfortunately, this week, that's proving very tough to do. Admittedly, there have been good bits - the email from the Derby Telegraph at 1pm on Thursday, asking if I could go in at 1pm on Friday ("yes, of course"), the good connections made at 4Networking in Lichfield on Thursday morning, the continuing stream of donations for my charity run (go to uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow, where I'm nearly up to £1,000) but they have been overwhelmed by incidents which have reminded me of the precarious nature of life as a stroke-survivor.
There was one on Saturday which I will mention but can't, for various reasons, expand on; there was the incident on Sunday afternoon when Mrs W had to order me out of our local branch of a well-known German discount supermarket before I got into a fight with someone; there have been the reminders that while I am unable to work, money will be a constant cause of resentment and argument at Warrillow Towers; there have been the "I'm more tired than you' arguments which all this naturally leads to; there have been the headaches, wobbly walking, fatigue, having to look at new ways of dealing with worry; there have been the fears that although I am back behind the wheel of a car, I could be just a step away from something going horribly wrong (the A5 at 9.30pm in a monsoon when the only traffic seems to be you and a host of foreign-driven 30-tonne articulated lorries is not fun); there have been the reminders that looking after my diet is more important than ever (like most, if not all, journalists, I am too used to eating on the hoof); there have been the "Why me" moments which all strokies have and which I usually tell people they should avoid; the frustrations of the useless British weather which leave me feeling more or less permanently cold and the blood-thinners I have to take which mean I bleed for England. All in all, it's not been my best week.
Thankfully, # breathebalancebeactivatedEmily got hold of me on Tuesday, told me I needed to get some of this anger and frustration out and we started doing some boxing moves. It certainly helped (at least until Emmerdale came on the TV at Warrillow Towers last night, lol) and it's something I'm keen to pursue. She's suggested I find a handy pillow to beat the **** out of when I'm feeling like I have this week.
Certainly sounds better than beating it out of fellow shoppers, doesn't it?
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