After work today, I went to a cycle/spin class. I didn’t cheat with the gears, and I didn’t die. I’m impressed!
I’ve been remembering what it was like after the stroke. I don’t want to forget what it was like, and I don’t want to be complacent in thinking that mobility is a permanent fixture. I remember the first few physio sessions, when I was in the high dependency ward. They were just getting me to sit. I was able to sit while leaning on my right arm, and then progrssed to sitting by myself. The first ‘sitting’ steps were wobbly, and my physio or my boyfriend would time how long I could sit up by myself for before falling over.
I remember not being able to move my left leg at all. there was no feeling in it, and I would be listening to music late at night, and bopping along but only with my right leg. Later, I’d be able to move it, but not very much. I could push my leg down the bed, but not pull it back up again. There was one night where my leg was really itchy, and I could not reach the itch because I couldn’t sit up or move my leg up. It was really, really annoying.
I remember when I first got feeling in my left arm, and we would take the progress one step at a time. I couldn’t lift my arm straight away, but I could do it in steps. First, I would squeeze my boyfriend’s hand. Then I would lift. And then I would extend. “Squeeze, lift, extend” became our motto, and he would send me text messages after he’d left that just said, “Remember, squeeze, lift, extend!”
*Everything* was effort, everything was a target, everything was a milestone. Moving fingers independently. Reaching a tap from the wheelchair. Doing up buttons. Tying back my hair. Tying shoelaces. The first steps. Everything that comes naturally suddenly involved a lot of thinking and a lot of effort. Because really, when you tie your hair back in a ponytail, or tie your shoelaces, or do up buttons, do you know what each finger is doing? You don’t need to look or think about it, you just do it. And I was at a point where I was learning every single thing again. The only things I didn’t have to learn were things that only involved the right side, such as writing, and things that don’t require much physical movement, such as thinking, reading or talking.
Now, almost eight months later, I’m fitter than I ever have been, my typing speed is almost back to what it was before the stroke, and the deficits that I still have are only noticeable to me. Which, my neurosurgeon assures me, will go away with time.
