It is Friday once again, and Fandango has unveiled his Friday Flashback. He just uses this as an opportunity to repost something that he first posted on this day in some year gone by. Just to give more of a flavour of the person behind the name. Or, he could be a Russian bot, you decide!
Anyway, it’s a great idea so I try to follow suit. Certainly when I started blogging back at the start of 2017, I wrote purely for myself, when I felt like it. So you won’t be surprised to learn that I don’t have anything from the actual day.
In fact, my post today was first posted on November 6, 2017, almost a week later. It is only interesting because, two years down the line, I had those exact same thoughts just the other day, I could have written that exact same post yesterday (if I’d been bothered!).
Especially with my background as a cyclist, I learned to push myself. There is always farther to go. Or faster, or whatever. There is always some way in which I can improve. In fact I have to be very conscious of the flip-side to this, i.e. realising (or rather, not realising) when I accomplished some big deal.
But I could rewrite my post word for word. I’m generally of an age where I’m settled in my body. I am what I am. I’ll think things through for myself, and if people like my view on a particular subject, fine. If they don’t, fine.
And yet, this aspect of how other people perceive me was a factor then, and is frankly a factor still. I’ve kind-of accepted that, for me, the stroke will always be there, that there will always be farther to go, but getting to the point where nobody else notices is a definite milestone, something to aim for. I know it will happen bit-by-bit, because for lots of things, already, no-one would ever know. It’s a milestone in itself to realise that while stroke might be front-and-centre for me, it isn’t for anyone else.
But I’m my own worst enemy for seeing progress. I see myself every day, if there is any progress, it is backwards! as I do one dumb thing after another. That was the single most important reason for blogging in the first place – to record progress with that all-important little timestamp in the corner. But, for most of us, life is just one dumb thing after another, so am I any different? I wonder if you, or anyone even, would see any progress between then and now?
Interesting also that I talk about memory, and it is true that some people can walk you through their stroke minute-by-minute. I couldn’t and can’t. I can piece together dates by looking at a calendar, but I don’t bother. I know I was admitted on a Wednesday, and that they ballsed-up my admission, as I describe in the post. When you think that the NHS is brilliant, think again. Your experience might have been good, but it’s not across-the-board. It was just before Valentine’s – because I gently teased a young nurse. I was in about five weeks, all told. Among my nurses were two Italians. I wonder what happened to them, because of Brexit? They certainly don’t work on the ward any more. A casual observer might point out that nurses are the type of people we can least afford to lose…
But, you see, none of this is important now. It’s all past and I have other tenses to concentrate on.
A mate of mine (both online and real-life) posted today that it was the sixth anniversary of his stroke. He hides the effects well, although he says that even now, every day is a struggle somehow. I suspect it will always be so.
It kind of makes me think, “how do people perceive me?” I mean, if I’m just sitting there having a coffee, it’d probably take a keen observer to work out that I was only using one arm. I suppose when I’m moving about it is far more obvious, as I walk both jerkily and with a limp. I lose my balance quite easily (but am able to take remedial steps). I’d expect this to get smoother over time. And hopefully I’ll be able to use the arm for more.
Interesting also that he has a clear memory of when his stroke was. Lots of people do…
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