It’s ten days after suffering a Stroke. I must be getting better cos I’m becoming bored shitless.
In the words of the ever-popular french pharmacist Émile Coué, “Every day in every way I’m getting better and better”. I think he said that just before he topped himself.
Anyway, it’s true that my face is still numb, I have a dividing line running down the middle of my head and face and to the right of it my face feels like it’s just received several novacane injections. The Docs are not sure when or even if it’ll return to its normal self, which is worrying I admit. But it hasn’t drooped or dropped. It’s still as ugly or as beautiful as it’s always been. Many people after an attack of, say, palsy or after a botched operation suffer much worse than I have, So let’s say I have had a result.
It’s also true that I have to have daily blood tests. My blood samples are sent back-and-forward between my house and the hospital. A different nurse each day takes turns to extract a pint (that’s nearly an armful) of blood from me. I have the arms of a Jewish soul singer.
I then have to take Warfarin to to ensure that my blood is thin enough to bypass the blockages and clots in by brain. My blood is as thin as a James Murdoch testimony.
My legs are not working how they should be, but today is better than yesterday and I’ll be even better tomorrow. I’m cruising around the house like a toddler at the moment. The NHS has given me a walking stick, which I am using less and less each day. I used a Sainsbury’s shopping trolley the other day as a Zimmer frame. In the heart of Crayford, I didn’t stand out at all. I reckon I was still fitter than most in there.
I still have trouble writing. This paragraph will take me several attempts to weedle out the misspelled or erroneous words. And you’ll still find typos in it, cos my brain’s just not working that way at the moment. But it’s only a fortnight after the event and I reckon I’m doing just fine thankyouverymuch!
People look almost shocked when they see me and I don’t have tubes up my nose or am not wearing an iron lung. I’m better than I could have possibly imagined a week ago and I am sure a lot of it is in no small part to the many many cards, messages and gift expressing their concern and love from so many of my friends out there. Thank you so much for all your heart-felt well-wishes.
But I have to draw the line somewhere.
Monty and Clive are two people who not only consider themselves friends of mine but also, presumably, humerous. I’m sorry but I fail to see the funny side of delivering a pair of pink size nine roller-skates to a bloke who’s just had a stroke. What the fuck am I supposed to do with them. ? The Incumbent has refused to push me up to the pub in them, and pink is just not my colour. Please let me know their cost so I have some idea what price I can start them off on eBay.
Delighted with news of today’s recovery. Not quite there yet, I know. But does me good to know there are still stout-hearted Englishmen who, backs to the wall, know how to claw themselves back in to the game. Glad to hear you’re on the mend too Mike.
This made me laugh. You can always count on good friends to get you something completely pointless! I am also recovering from something a bit different but it’s a mixture of boredom & frustration so I do know how you feel. You’re right though, I know Crayford well…you would not stand out!
Eltham’s just as colourful! Keep going 🙂
I enjoy and appreciate your humor. Those laughs will take you a long way.
I had a stroke in 2003. My face was numb for the longest time. Yet, just like my walking skills (or lack thereof), everything improves. I hope you find the same incredible recovery I have found. Step-by-step takes on a whole new meaning when you are learning it all over again. Good luck on your journey.
PRETTY IN PINK.
Mate, you are a STAR! Keep going. Best regards to the Incumbent.
Thanks boss, see you very soon I hope
Tom directed me to your blog. Still smiling!
Name notwithstanding, I’m not a bloke so DO have a GP. Despite regular visits to the quack last year she still managed not to detect that I had acute appendicitis until it had infected large chunks of bowel and utterly poleaxed me – but hey, it could have been indigestion!? The hospital bit was utterly uncharted territory for me and the only way I hung onto sanity was by furtively recording the least un-surreal elements of it. It was like setting off for the pub and waking up in the seventh circle of Dante’s hell. I now have a three inch scar and an excuse for never wearing a bikini again.
I would have loved some pink skates (no-body bought me any) – but sadly I take a size 7. Keep up the brilliant blog! – Glyn
Blimey, you’re getting genuine replies from genuine people on here, who obviously have never met you or they wouldn’t come within a country mile of you, Meldrew … and Pink so is your colour you old fruit !!!