The National Stroke Foundation is holding a Stroke of Art exhibition. It will be at the NSW Parliament House in Sydney from 3-28 August. People who have been affected by stroke are asked to write a message about faith, hope and courage on a postcard and that will be in the exhibition. I think it’s a fun idea! I spoke to the woman from the NSF organising this yesterday, and she asked me if I’d be able to be involved in the launch somehow. I said that I’d be happy to help.
However, this whole thing has made me feel a bit odd. A lot of people have told me that they think I’m strong, and brave, and amazing. I really don’t think I’m any of that. I think I’m incredibly lucky in that what caused my Cushing’s was a large and obvious tumour that was relatively simple to remove. I’m lucky in that I had a stroke at the age I did, instead of when I was older. I’m lucky in that somehow, the arteries, veins and blood vessels in my brain were able to recover from this.
I think that I did what anyone would have done. I love my life, and there are so many fabulous aspects to it, and things to look forward to every day. I hated that it was put on hold for a little while, but really, it wasn’t – the entire journey has been a learning experience and one that I don’t wish never happened. It would have been preferable, sure, but since it has, there have been some pretty great things that have come out of it.
When I was in hospital, I worked hard at physio and OT every day because I wanted to get the hell out of there. To do that, I had to get better, and I had to do everything I could to do that. I don’t think I’m brave for doing it, because it wasn’t my choice. I didn’t choose for life to take that particular path, but it did. I remained positive and happy throughout the majority of it, because that’s what I do – the eternal optimist. Things could have been a lot worse, and at least I’m still alive. Even before I was discharged from hospital, and in the first few days after when I still couldn’t really move my left side, I would think that it’s okay. There’s no use in being bitter or angry, and there’s no use in thinking that life isn’t fair. Life *isn’t* fair, but life is also bigger and better than these slight hiccups. That isn’t me being brave or amazing, that is just my belief system at work. I think that I’m incredibly lucky, and most of us are incredibly lucky, and we don’t appreciate that enough. Life, and our bodies, are fabulous.
Oh, one more thing – I did have an extra motivation for making a good recovery. There was a rehab case manager who was a bit of a bitch, and she was determined to send me to a rehab hospital, even though she wasn’t even seeing the progress I made every single day. She treated me like any other stroke patient, and the norm is to go to a rehab hospital. She couldn’t promise me a full recovery, she said. So my recovery was partly a desire to go home and get my life back, and also a “Fuck you” to this rehab case manager. Not a full recovery my arse.
