#I Am Fully Capable Of Reeling In My Strength For Those Who Don't Convince My Employer At The Time (Dionysus) That PTO Isn't Necessary.

[the-finest-clockwork-soldier]

Would you like an inter dimensional internet hug?

Of Course! I Would Always Be Happy To Have A Hug, Whether It Be An Interdimensional Internet Hug Or Otherwise! (|:}]

Though I Do Warn You, My Body Is Made Of Wood And Not Always Particularly Comfortable To Hug.

[dgarski]

Time does not heal all wounds.

Two years ago today, March 6, 2019, my life changed forever. Recovering, healing, processing...all of these things have fully encompassed me every day of those two years. Mental healing however, has been another thing altogether. There is so much that I don't remember. Mostly, I see flashes and pictures in my mind, of me in the hospital. I remember almost nothing of the night that I collapsed. Even waking up in the hospital, there is so much I still don't remember. It was like watching life unfolding through the eyes of someone else. I do remember the desperate feeling of being trapped and completely lost. I remember the feeling of imminent death. I was so close, but somehow, I lived. I was awake, but I didn't really know what happened to me. The doctors, the nurses and family all tried to tell me about my collapse and how I had survived a stroke, a heart attack and a seizure. I thought they were kidding. I thought they were talking about someone else. Nothing made sense. I couldn't account for time. My entire life had dramatically halted.

After the first week, I was brought out of I.C.U. to the physical therapy floor. I finally got my own private room. It was mostly quiet. I remember looking out the big windows of my room, at the city of Orlando. "There's my city." It was a view I had never imagined before. I was in a hospital room, looking out at the view of downtown Orlando. At the time, I had no idea how long I would be there. I wanted to leave. I knew that if I didn't get out soon, I would snap. Decisions were being made by my family, that I don't think I will ever completely understand. I have had a lot of time to think about all that; and I concluded that, at the time, I must have believed that I could die at any moment; and that it would be best if I just agreed with anything and everything I was told. I think that I must have been convinced that I was in the hospital for two weeks because they really needed to keep an eye on me; because I could maybe have another stroke or another heart attack at any second. I don't think I've ever felt so weak, so scared, so numb, in my entire life.

Once I was released from the hospital, the very next day, I found myself on an airplane to Chicago with my mother and my brother-in-law. I remember looking out the window, as the plane ascended over downtown Orlando, and thinking to myself, "Hey, there's my city!" This time, it was from a much more profound point of view. At that moment, I wasn't sure if I would ever see it again. I still didn't really know what was going on inside my head. I must have thought that me going to Wisconsin was just a weird sort of unplanned vacation, and that I would be back in Florida in a week or two. I remember the immediate cold of Chicago, as we walked to my brother-in-law's truck from the airport terminal. There I was, standing in a parking lot at O'Hare airport. It made no sense to me. It was night, and we were on a freeway headed to Racine. I hadn't been back to Wisconsin since Christmas 2002. A lot had changed in 17 years.

For the next several days, I slept and slept. I was still so weak. I was initially on so much medication, it was really wreaking havoc on my body. Within a few days or so, my mental faculties began to become more and more lucid. Being scared that I might die at any moment, was quickly being replaced with depression, anger and frustration. I started to piece the puzzle together. I began to realize that in the blink of an eye, I literally lost just about everything.

The actual physical recovery took very little time for me. I remember still having almost no strength in my arms or legs. Walking took some effort. Once I got myself motivated, I began to get the strength back in my legs. Within a few more weeks, I was walking to the lake and back. It would still exhaust me, because I was on so much high-dose medication at the time. I always seemed to be light-headed. The doctors regulated the prescriptions and I began to feel better. I was still very weak in most areas of my body. Over the summer of 2019, I began to feel more and more physically normal. In September, I began working again. The job didn't require a great deal of physical strain. I certainly did a lot of walking though. I pushed myself to work as many 12-hour days as I could. When I wasn't at work, I mowed the lawn at my parents house. When it snowed, I even shoveled the sidewalks. I honestly don't know where I found the strength to push myself. Perhaps it was an extreme instinct to get out of the place where I was so that I could get back to the place where I belong.

Even though my body was healing, my brain was still trying to recover. I mean that in a sense that, my mental faculties were still reeling from all that had happened to me. Some call it "post traumatic stress disorder." I don't know if that's what I actually had or maybe I am still dealing with it. I don't really know what constitutes someone having P.T.S.D. Whatever the fight was, I was in it completely on my own. I remember each day as sort of a movie that I was actually living. None of it ever seemed real to me. It was very much like a nightmare. I would go to bed, hoping that I would wake up and it would all be a terrible dream.

Time does not heal all wounds. Some scars just never heal, especially the ones you cannot see. I remember feeling angry, frustrated and confused. Luckily, I had a couple of people that I could turn to, to help support me emotionally. Unfortunately, there were others who chose to kick me when I was down. Maybe they simply didn't understand what I was going through, and it was easier for them to criticize, condemn and judge me. I've had to let all of those people go. It sucks that it has to be this way. I certainly didn't choose it. I didn't ask for this to happen to me.

So many questions still remain. Can forgiveness ever be a part of the healing? Will I ever be able to completely let go of the pain of so much loss? How will I feel about all of this, in another two years?

I think about so many things that have happened in the past two years. I think about those days in the hospital and how long I was there, and how very little I remember about any of it. I remember being in Wisconsin, freezing almost every day. I was never warm enough to be comfortable. I remember how much I absolutely hated being there and how much I wanted to leave and go back home to Florida. I remember working at the hospital, trying to convince myself that working 48 hours in four days each week, was the only way I was going to save enough money to get myself out of Racine and back home to Orlando. I remember laying in a bed in a very cold, damp basement bedroom, wondering how my life had dropped to such incredible depths of despair and loss. I was alive, but what was I supposed to learn from all that had happened to me?

It is so very true that desperation will make any human being do just about anything to survive. I found out what I am truly made of, way down deep in my soul. Yes, I had a lot of help in the process, but I learned that I am a real survivor, in every sense of the word. I don't think that most people ever get to experience the realization of their own mortality and the unknown inner strengths. So few ever get to find out what they are truly capable of, deep inside.

When I hear stories or talk with someone who has been in the hospital or has had their life dramatically changed forever, I can feel the pain they feel. I know that I feel a sense of new found wisdom and appreciation for the little things in life. I find myself watching the sunsets more often, taking more pictures, watching the clouds change into strange shapes. I can sense so much more now. When you've come close to death and you live, there comes a profound new type of knowledge that is impossible to define. It clarifies and enlightens everything.

If you are close with someone who has had a stroke and survived, you must learn to treat them with patience, kindness and understanding, and do so unconditionally. After a stroke, the brain, in all of its entire complication, is a slowly healing brain that has been through one of the worst types of change. A stroke survivor may heal physically on the outside, but it's the mental and emotional healing on the inside, that may take much longer.

A stroke survivor will feel anger, frustration, anxiety, fear, depression, and may even become emotional without ever knowing why. Some emotions may be intense reactions to the environment or people. Outbursts of crying for little or no reason, may happen occasionally. There may even be personality changes. You must learn to allow these people their time to heal and process their life after a stroke. It may take a few weeks, a few months or the rest of their life.

After two years of healing, I am more in tune with my mortality now, than I ever was before.