Optimism
I'm' sitting here waiting for my friend, Robin, to arrive from Glasgow Airport. She's the friend who will accompany me back to Vancouver a week from today. I'd expected her on my doorstep hours ago but I think my calculations for travel time from Glasgow Airport to my doorstep must have been a little ambitious.
When I first realized we'd have a week in Edinburgh to explore, it was all too easy to think of the things I can no longer do and I had to remind myself to try countering negative thoughts with positive ones and thinking instead of the things I be capable of oing, such as sitting in my wheelchair, enjoying the ride while Robin exhausts herself pushing me all over Edinburgh.
Living with the consequences of a stroke has left me anxious and pessimistic so I've devised a way to be optimistic and that is to ignore the medics' advice and picture my future as one where everything works the way it used to. The medics say this is a bad idea because, instead of working to improve the function I've got, I'll focus on a pipe dream of function I hope to have. However, the well-intentioned reality statements delivered by my neurologist and physiotherapists that I'll never regain the use of my left arm an hand only left me without hope. And without hope, there is no optimism.
I'm also tired of every single thing in my life relating to my physical condition because I'd like to forget about it for a while. I spend a lot of time trying to istract myself and have even resorted to watching daytime TV, which isn't as bad as North American daytime TV, except for the Jeremy Kyle Show, the UK equivalent of Jerry Springer and Maury Povitch, with armies of trailer trash queuing up to air their pathetically filthy laundry to millions. Fortunately, my brain hasn't been damaged to such an extent that I'm unable to see that this behaviour is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. Maybe it's the allure of a trip to London for the shooting that has the power to convince the participants that appearing on TV to bare their rotting teeth on camera.
Yes - I am preoccuppied with teeth and this country is full of people whose mouths are tragically packed with tombstone teeth.
When I first realized we'd have a week in Edinburgh to explore, it was all too easy to think of the things I can no longer do and I had to remind myself to try countering negative thoughts with positive ones and thinking instead of the things I be capable of oing, such as sitting in my wheelchair, enjoying the ride while Robin exhausts herself pushing me all over Edinburgh.
Living with the consequences of a stroke has left me anxious and pessimistic so I've devised a way to be optimistic and that is to ignore the medics' advice and picture my future as one where everything works the way it used to. The medics say this is a bad idea because, instead of working to improve the function I've got, I'll focus on a pipe dream of function I hope to have. However, the well-intentioned reality statements delivered by my neurologist and physiotherapists that I'll never regain the use of my left arm an hand only left me without hope. And without hope, there is no optimism.
I'm also tired of every single thing in my life relating to my physical condition because I'd like to forget about it for a while. I spend a lot of time trying to istract myself and have even resorted to watching daytime TV, which isn't as bad as North American daytime TV, except for the Jeremy Kyle Show, the UK equivalent of Jerry Springer and Maury Povitch, with armies of trailer trash queuing up to air their pathetically filthy laundry to millions. Fortunately, my brain hasn't been damaged to such an extent that I'm unable to see that this behaviour is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. Maybe it's the allure of a trip to London for the shooting that has the power to convince the participants that appearing on TV to bare their rotting teeth on camera.
Yes - I am preoccuppied with teeth and this country is full of people whose mouths are tragically packed with tombstone teeth.
posted by Jacki | 3:24 PM
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