Nothing more than Feelings

I read another survivor’s post the other day, and they were talking about how they struggled to cope with their emotion. Emotion is something very intangible, but affects many (> 50%) survivors of all kinds of brain injuries, not just stroke.

I was not exempt from this, although I am pleased to say that sufficient time has passed, that I’m probably about the same as pre-stroke.

But I can remember one incident clearly, I must have been only a few months downstream. There’s no point trying to explain James Herriot, since his work must’ve been translated into most every language already – he will be on Wikipedia, if you’re really stuck. In the UK, it was also a TV series, and one afternoon I was watching one of the re-run episodes. One of the storylines was animal cruelty. Now, I was perfectly able to rationalise that a lot of Herriot’s work had only a passing resemblance to reality – he embellished quite a bit. Even moreso, I was perfectly able to rationalise that here before me was a troupe of actors (dog included) who were acting out a scene. Lastly, I am aware that the series was set in the 1930s, so even with the very slim probability that this story portrayed a real event, all parties would have long since shuffled off this mortal coil in any case. I could rationalise all of that. And yet I was in tears! That’s how your emotions are affected – you know something is nonsense, but it gets you anyway.

But that was probably more than three years ago, and these days I can generally be relied upon to keep that stiff upper lip, for which we British are so renowned.

Ironically, though, I do still feel some effect. I don’t know if this is due to the stroke, or just to getting older. The stroke probably aged me a lot, in terms of my outlook on life, so the distinctions are somewhat blurred.

It’s not when bad things happen, but good. If I see people behaving as they ought (according to my system of beliefs), then I can go giddy with excitement. Of course, we all have different systems, and I’m not going to let this post stray into my own values, but for all of us there will be things that tick that “good” box. Or a poignant song, maybe, which sparks some memory, perhaps of my own youth.

I really felt for this chap. But time has helped me. I’d never presume to be normal in any case, but…to get back to before.

Fandango’s Friday Flashback – 27 September 2019

Well, it is Friday lunchtime once again, and I’ve had quite a productive morning. Diem, my Diabetes web site – in nearing completion. But more on that later…

I saw in my Inbox a notification from my WordPress friend Fandango. Every Friday, he posts a “Flashback” post, something that he posted on this day in a previous year. The intention is just to give the reader an idea of what he was up to back then.

So, I follow suit. Rather than just reblogging my old post, I wanted to provide a short commentary, complete with links and formatting, and I haven’t worked out if I can do that yet with WordPress’s “reblog” button.

Earlier on in my recovery, I used to be involved with other stroke survivors in a peer support group. It was a very informal affair – we met in a certain coffee shop at a certain time, and just caught up with each other for a few hours.

Peer support is a big deal. When you first come out of hospital, you can’t be bothered with things like computers and you don’t have the strength to get out, so you just sit there in the chair all day, thinking “I’m the only guy who ever went through this”. And you gradually get your head straight enough to use a computer, and your body strong enough to leave the house, and lo-and-behold you realise you’re not alone. That other people have gone before you.

That’s why peer support is a big deal. You’re meeting people precisely because they’ve had the same experience as you.

Our group was very laissez-faire. You either turned up, or you didn’t. I was somebody who did turn up because I think it is important to be consistent. But this state of affairs meant that several times, I turned up on my own. Even getting to this coffee shop was a five-hour roundtrip for me, and if I was going to spend that time sitting on my own… well, I can think of better things to do.

I don’t want to re-gurgitate the original post in my commentary. Plus, there are other posts in the blog which tell more of the story (same category), if anybody is interested. Suffice it to say that I stopped going a year ago. The group presumably folded. I have the contact details of a couple of the guys who went occasionally, but I’m not really in contact. Sad, but people move on. They moved on. I moved on.

The “better thing I could be doing” is developing my own software, which brings me full circle. With one product released, and another almost there, I guess you could say it has worked out okay. And, I still meet with other stroke survivors, by virtue of the charity work I do at the hospital. If one of them sees me, and thinks “I’m not the only guy…”, then it is worthwhile.

With all this in mind, I hope you enjoy the post.

https://strokesurvivor.me.uk/2018/09/27/end-of-an-era/