Hello Again!

I weeded the gardens today. It didn't take long and it made me happy.

We're approaching the second anniversary of my stroke.

Sometimes it seems like just a few weeks ago, and sometimes it seems like years.

Other times I can't even remember what life was like before. . . .

catching up

Started (and finished) another round of therapy. Milestones: walking much improved, but still can't run or hop; writing significantly faster and tidier; violin playing somewhat improved, but I have miles to go before I sleep. Danced at my cousin's wedding, Down to one 20 - 40 minute nap a day. My doctor says I will always have some spasticity.

A full draft of Harmony is done (minus the overture and underscoring). A CD of all songs (featuring the silken vocals of a famous chanteuse who wishes to remain nameless but whose technique (if not the voice itself) is too recognizable for anonymity) is now available to all those possessing a sense of humor.

And I have finished huge handfuls of knitting. More next time . . .

Holy Week

Last week I played a few gigs. Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil and two Easter Sunday masses. By the end of Easter day I could barely use my spoon! Monday morning I got dizzy while lifting weights and decided to take the day off. Everything.

I didn't fully recover until yesterday, but now (after going to bed early four nights in a row) I feel fine and am ready for my next big gig: Curved Air's "Vivaldi" (the CD track, not the video version) for the DC-SPA dance company.

Harmony

Since September I have been working on music for Harmony, a musical with book and lyrics by Betty Cooper Hirt. The story is based on a real life romance between an Appalachian writer and a New York Jew. We have had a lot of fun so far, and I hope to have more to show you soon. The music spans the range from bluegrass to swing to military march, with lots of traditional Appalachian ballads and hearty show tunes in between. We are very close to having a complete draft.

This has been a necessary detour from Nannerl as I get my brain in shape for book writing again. I found that my ability to do things in the correct order (like putting on potholders before opening the oven) was impaired. A little re-routing was necessary in order for me to feel comfortable tackling the dramatic arc of Act Two. I think I'm ready now.

FAQ #5

"Why you?"

Nobody is sure why I had this stroke. We do know that my left carotid artery tore and a clot formed which blocked the blood flowing to my brain. In other words, this wasn't to do with high blood pressure, high cholesterol, or diabetes. My neurologist said from the time of the tear to the time of the stroke was probably not more than a week. I had no trauma the week before my stroke, so it seems to have been a spontaneous rupture.

Everyone laughs when I say this, but being out of commission was really a good break for me. Even now, I am forced to take everything more slowly and be satisfied (thrilled, actually) with what little I can accomplish. Additionally, I had been craving some silent time for a while now. Seriously though: I don't want to speak for them, but I know for sure that some of my nurses and therapists, and my family as well, got something out of this experience beyond what a "normal" stroke patient would give. And that's enough reason for me.

FAQ #4

For real this time . . .

"Do you have all your capabilities back?"

I can

knit like a pro

recite Shakespeare

play simple things on the violin

hop on my right foot if I flap like a chicken

"jog" in a limping way if I lift my knees high

multiply a two-digit number by a one-digit number in my head

press 60 pounds with my right leg

stand unassisted in the shower

say "stand unassisted in the shower" on my first try

use a can opener

flip pancakes

throw a tantrum

type 20 words per minute

play a bit of piano

tie my shoes

make a ponytail

teach violin

read Fox in Socks by Dr. Seuss (out loud)

write approximately 10 words per minute of variable legibility

drive an automatic (haven't tried the stick)

This is not an exhaustive list, but you can see that although I don't have my former skill set, it seems to be coming back. It's a long road--longer than I realized at first. But my family is very supportive, and I've already come a long way.

FAQ #4

"Do you have all your capabilities back?"

Oh, ha, ha, oh ha ha ha, ha ha ha, oh ha!

FAQ #3

"Did the stroke affect your mental faculties in any way?"

Yes.

I still feel like me--that is, I don't feel stupider--but I'm definitely slower and less able to do math in my head and more liable to get stuck verbally. Nobody except Jeff really notices. He says I'm more on his level now . . .

I never felt significantly different. My memory was still good (Jeff got all my usernames and passwords for web billing from me early on) and I could read in several languages right away. But my head hurts when I think too hard. It's not funny, but it should be.

Fee-fie-diddly-eye-oh!

FAQ #2

"Were you bewildered?"

Not really. I don't know why I wasn't.

The stroke felt more like something that was happening to me rather than something I suffered. It's really the first time I ever felt completely passive. Eventually it occurred to me to wonder how it happened, but I was never really surprised. The fact is, I experienced it and didn't have time to react to it. My friend Barbara came to watch my kids while it was descending on me and she said she was as shocked as I was. When I replied that I wasn't shocked she had to agree--according to her, I sat there smiling and waiting for the ambulance. (Eventually I guess I was only able to smile with half my face, but she didn't mention that.)

Jeff went into immediate action--you could tell he was tense, but bewilderment would have been impractical. Cole was scared and worried, sitting in a chair facing me, but Gwendolyn kept playing calmly.

People here keep referring to my "faith," but it wasn't faith that I would be able to play violin again or faith that I would survive. I knew that everything would be okay--even if I lost the use of one whole side of my body--even if I could never speak again--even if I died.

Fortunately, I'm okay.

FAQ

"Is your recovery full, or going to be full?"

Let me tell you a version of the story I just recently learned from my loving husband:

The first neurologist the hospital called to come see me, um, never showed up. By the time the second neurologist arrived and ordered blood tests, I was well into the stroke, eyes rolling around in my head, the whole bit. (I know some of you don't appreciate a good story--you have to know the ending before the middle--but I'm writing this, after all, so there's nothing to worry about. The rest of you, enjoy the suspense!) Dr. Baker said she had told the lab to hurry with the test results because if they didn't start thinning my blood soon I might never come out of that state.

At this point I feel the need to make it clear that I never saw the bright light, never looked down at my body from on high. I didn't actually die, which means God didn't bring me back, which means he didn't "bring me back for a reason." When my son was asked if he thought my recovery was a miracle, he answered that he thought the stroke was the miracle. Healing is what a body, especially a young, healthy body, just does. Not having a stroke.

They got me on blood thinners in time, I guess, because I regained consciousness the same day. Unfortunately my right side was completely paralyzed. "They" said I would never play violin again, a prediction of which I was blissfully unaware until one of the "they"s (a physician's assistant--something I just recently learned to say on my first try) casually mentioned it at the rehab center.

Soon, however, "they" began to forecast a full recovery. I went through four months of physical therapy believing that at least most of my skills would return. Dr. Baker told me I may never be able to say certain words again, but that would be the worst of it.

And then in July, when I could barely scratch out a tune on the fiddle, when my right hand grip was still 20 pounds less than that of my left hand, and in fact when my shoulder extension was still not enough to allow me to wipe my own butt with my right hand--that is when my occupational therapist announced that she had never seen a full recovery as wonderful as mine.

So it does not mean what I thought.

since the stroke

On March 16 I had a stroke. My left carotid artery tore, a clot formed, and the rest is current events. The garden has been more or less neglected, though I did manage to harvest the corn that came up while I was in the hospital. And . . .

I'm knitting again.

The yarn is Lisa Souza's laceweight merino. Not a single knot in 2520 yards. I ended up not using the center pull because the yarn is so soft it knots and pills. I am very happy pulling from the outside of the ball! The color is so pretty everyone remarks on it.

It's much more subtle knit up.

On to my other obligations (see post from March 16).