So, this is my third time with this whole blog thing.
I kinda suck at blogging.
But, it's important to get this put down in words somewhere, so I'll have to give it a shot.
I'm Amber. I am 36, the mother to two girls and in reasonably good health and a solid Type A personality. Well, that's what I was. Now, I am still Amber, I still have two daughters and now, I am no longer considered to be in reasonably good health, and it might be a matter of life or death for me to chill out of the Type A. You see, on July 5, 2014, I had a stroke.
It actually turns out that I've had TWO strokes, as you can see in the picture above. The part circled in yellow is the area of my brain called the Pons. It's the portion of your brain between the part you consider your brain and your brainstem. It's sort of the way station between the commands your brain sends and the command that gets sent to your body.
In that circle, you can see two white spots in the center. Notice I said 2. The bigger one that's closet to center is the stroke I just had in July. That second one is a stroke I had some other time that I never knew about until now. It's rather scary that you can have a stroke and never know.
As a result, I have no cognitive impairment, no amnesia of the event, no speech or swallow issues. I do have left sided weakness and I am relearning to walk and use my left hand.
That's a lot less fun than it sounds. But, as everyone wants to remind me, I got lucky that I'm quite minimally impaired.
I don't feel that lucky and minimal impairment is taking quite a toll on my life. I'm out of work until September, hopefully only that long, and I have a lot of medications, therapy and doctors to keep track of.
My "impairment" is likely not permanent, but it's likely that I will retain some of my disability for the rest of what I'm hoping will be a long life. But that life is going to be a lot different than I had planned--and I'm slowly realizing that it's going to be OK. I'm not going to be that superwoman who juggles a career, a Girl Scout Troop and a Master's degree program flawlessly. I'll still get that Master's degree, before Christmas, even--but I might not get a 4.0. That's hard to let go of. Really hard. But, if I weigh it against what I gain for letting go, it gets easier.
It's kind of a relief in a way. I've spent a lot of my life living up to standards I thought other people demanded of me, and I'm discovering that people are OK with me being fallible and human. The truth is, the people who love me will love me if I have to say "No" and if I'm not perfect at everything. My kids don't even expect superhuman qualities out of me, and they still think I'm awesome. In fact, the only person who's even slightly concerned about when I'll be "back to normal" is my boss, and he's more concerned that I'll try to go back to work early and that I won't take care of myself.
There are some learning curves as I work to navigate through this new path my life has taken. I still have expectations of myself that aren't reasonable and people are used to me being a certain way--when I don't look disabled all the time, people forget that you are. But, we are all learning together.
So, this is a blog to document the journey. Not a destination or a result, but the journey. Because it's time that I slow down and start respecting that all there is to life is the journey. And if I'm not enjoying the journey, I'm just rushing headlong to the end. I'm not ready to be there yet.
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