Sunday, August 22, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Habits
The first thing I noticed, as I tried to come to grips with the idea that I had had a stroke, was how pernicious habits can be. After being in the hospital, where none of my routines were acknowledged, I came home with all sorts of good intentions.
I hadn’t been able to smoke while I was there and didn’t seem to think about it much. (Of course, I had no idea how to get to the outside from the sixth floor and wore an open back gown, which probably would have been as good as a sign saying, “This woman shouldn’t be here.” Even walking with authority and conviction probably wouldn’t do the trick, in that outfit.) Unfortunately, I had about 5 packs left from a carton, so although I rationed them, I was still smoking. They lasted about a week, after which point I was doing with the occasional mooched cigarette. Then last Sunday, I decided I couldn’t stand mooching and got a pack. That was a mistake. I think I’m going to have to trick myself and buy a pack, give it to a co-worker, who will be generous enough to dole one out to me, periodically. Somehow, the idea that I can NEVER have a cigarette scares the piss out of me.
I didn’t eat much in the hospital, wasn’t hungry, and thought this would be a good time to follow through with changing my admittedly lax eating habits. Again, that lasted for a few days here at home. Then I was back to my usual peanut butter on a spoon in the evening routine.
Habits are hellishly hard to break, once you’re back in your regular surroundings, doing your usual tasks.
I hadn’t been able to smoke while I was there and didn’t seem to think about it much. (Of course, I had no idea how to get to the outside from the sixth floor and wore an open back gown, which probably would have been as good as a sign saying, “This woman shouldn’t be here.” Even walking with authority and conviction probably wouldn’t do the trick, in that outfit.) Unfortunately, I had about 5 packs left from a carton, so although I rationed them, I was still smoking. They lasted about a week, after which point I was doing with the occasional mooched cigarette. Then last Sunday, I decided I couldn’t stand mooching and got a pack. That was a mistake. I think I’m going to have to trick myself and buy a pack, give it to a co-worker, who will be generous enough to dole one out to me, periodically. Somehow, the idea that I can NEVER have a cigarette scares the piss out of me.
I didn’t eat much in the hospital, wasn’t hungry, and thought this would be a good time to follow through with changing my admittedly lax eating habits. Again, that lasted for a few days here at home. Then I was back to my usual peanut butter on a spoon in the evening routine.
Habits are hellishly hard to break, once you’re back in your regular surroundings, doing your usual tasks.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
stroke
On July 22nd, I was hit with a mini-stroke.
I was working for a friend in her produce stand. It was about 9:30 in the morning, on a Thursday. Fortunately, I was alone for the duration of the initial attack. When I could move, without much fear of falling, I was able to get to the cell phone and call her to ask for a replacement. Sharon came to relieve me, and I drove home. I called in sick to my regular part-time job, informing them that I doubted I’d make it in Friday or Saturday.
During the course of the day, I periodically lost power on my right side. I endured. I can’t tell you what I was thinking. It wasn’t until Friday, late afternoon that I called a friend in Roanoke and asked her to come out for the night. Within an hour of her arrival, she called the rescue squad. I was in the hospital for three days.
I’ve made an almost full recovery, but a number of issues have arisen that I feel the need to document.
I was working for a friend in her produce stand. It was about 9:30 in the morning, on a Thursday. Fortunately, I was alone for the duration of the initial attack. When I could move, without much fear of falling, I was able to get to the cell phone and call her to ask for a replacement. Sharon came to relieve me, and I drove home. I called in sick to my regular part-time job, informing them that I doubted I’d make it in Friday or Saturday.
During the course of the day, I periodically lost power on my right side. I endured. I can’t tell you what I was thinking. It wasn’t until Friday, late afternoon that I called a friend in Roanoke and asked her to come out for the night. Within an hour of her arrival, she called the rescue squad. I was in the hospital for three days.
I’ve made an almost full recovery, but a number of issues have arisen that I feel the need to document.
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