Hi Darling Ones,

I wear a watch now. It’s a fancy Apple Watch because my family is afraid I will fall and be unable to call for help.

Every morning my first thought is, “Oh yeah, I had a stroke.” I almost forget during the night, but my shaky arm is a constant reminder. Brushing my hair takes some effort.

When I finally get downstairs I text my family, so they know I woke up and made it downstairs alive. However, since I’m afraid of walking down the stairs on my shaky, numb leg I slide down on my butt like a toddler.

I can’t walk and carry something at the same time, because I need a walker to get from one place to another. I have a nifty walker basket, which is handy for transporting smallish stuff with lids. It’s not good for much else, so I keep my glucose monitor in it. It’s also filled with my therapy putty and other toys to work on my right hand coordination.

I can’t get the mail, take out the garbage, or bring in groceries.

Today I was bellyaching to the Tea Ladies that it took me between 15 minutes and 72 hours to make a turkey sandwich. Stirring anything on the stove is a messy endeavor.

While I was writing this, I had a small, weepy breakdown at my friend, EM, who had the misfortune of calling while I was writing.

“I’m just sad, tired, and frustrated,” I cried.

It’s been 15 days since everything changed and I’m ready to be all better. I hate that I’m not. I’m ready to think about something other than my impairment. I’m super ready to start physical therapy, but have to wait while “the RN team works on it.”

Ugh. I bet you are ready to hear about something else.

Sorry,
Jodi