Just Gimme My Effin Life Back
I spend far too much time alone with my thoughts and stroke-induced depression. I've been told by all my doctors, both Scottish and Canadian that one of the parts of my brain the stroke damaged is the hippocampus, the part that controls emotions. It doesn't help that I have a long history of depression compounding the stroke version and that lacking emotional control causes me to cry a lot. The sobbing is embarrassing and frustrating but, try as I might, I just can't get a handle on either. Well-meaning people, when faced with the weeping or the knowledge that I've had a stroke, will often advise me to stay positive. This just makes me want to torture and kill them. I feel there's feck-all to be positive about and if one more effin person offers up this unsolicited advice, I'll scoop out their eyeballs with a fork and ram them down that person's throat. And then there are the folks who tell me that having a grandchild should make me happy. Sorry kids, but my grandchild can't possibly make up for the fact that I need help taking care of myself because I've been left one-handed. If I had two functioning hands, I'd use them to choke these people; again, they mean well but I wish they could figure out that NOTHING can make up for what I've lost and have been told is unlikely to be regained. Instead of trying to be positive, I try to be optimistic, which I think is more realistic and of more practical help. Sometimes I act as if life's good in the hope that I can fool my brain into thinking it's not depressed but it rarely works. Distraction is the safest tool and I apply that by reading and trying to plan for an independent future where I can possibly put on a bra or a jacket without help.
Sometimes, to make myself feel a bit better, I indulge in a daydream where my life resembles one I used to have, especially one where my options are unrestricted and where I know I can do anything I want to and am not afraid to plunge in and do it. That would be trying again to live in Edinburgh. I yearn for Edinburgh and fear I'll never stop feeling this degree of homesickness. Before I found out I had cancer, I'd decided to stay in Edinburgh for as long as I could make a living there and things were already looking promising in that regard but then my effin body betrayed me, not once, but twice. The cancer wouldn't have stopped me - it was the stroke that did that. I came back to Canada because I have a job to return to and because of my daughter and the imminent birth of my granddaughter and because I have a whole big collection of friends I was missing, and left my son behind, but now I wish I'd stayed where I was. I miss Evan and Edinburgh and my sister so much, it's worse than any physical pain I can think of. I haven't seen Meredith and Emma for months because Emma doesn't cope very well with being taken out too much. It doesn't help that my living situation is not what I'd like it to be either (ie not independent). I usually try not to update this blog if I'm feeling low like this as I feel people want to read positive things rather than the depressed ugly truth, but I was hoping that using it like some sort of journal might help my perspective and I apologize if readers are disappointed in the content after waiting so long for an update. It's not all doom and gloom though because I received some good news this week and will focus on that rather than on my homesickness. The insurance company paying my long term disability benefit required me to apply for early payment of a pension benefit, based on my disability that I ordinarily wouldn't be able to access until age 65 and it's been approved, which makes early retirement possible and that means I could return to live in Edinburgh without the need to be able to find a job and earn a living. I could also write all the books already taking shape or written in my head - every aspiring author's dream - if only this aspiring author wasn't so damned lazy (fatigue is another stroke legacy). All the time in the world to write and a steady income to help me do it. I've also been accepted for training as a stroke peer mentor, a programme supported and operated by the Stroke Rehabilitation Society of B.C. and staffed by volunteers. Third, my extended medical insurance will cover the cost of purchasing a motorized scooter for me, which will give me a lot of freedom and independence. Let me just clarify what I mean by scooter because someone thought I was talking about one of those little motorbike things - like the Vespas people use in Rome for transportation. I'm talking about a sophisticated version of a motorized wheelchair. I'm hoping these three things will give me a version of an effin life.
It's been my experience that when something in my life's gone wrong or ended up as a disappointment that another door has opened because of it and life on the other side of that open door has turned out better than it might have if my life had gone according to the original plan. I'm still looking for the other door this time and hope I'll know when I've found it - now trying to figure out which of the 3 items above it might be.
All comments and guidance welcome. Just don't tell me to stay positive if you don't fancy swallowing your eyeballs.
Sometimes, to make myself feel a bit better, I indulge in a daydream where my life resembles one I used to have, especially one where my options are unrestricted and where I know I can do anything I want to and am not afraid to plunge in and do it. That would be trying again to live in Edinburgh. I yearn for Edinburgh and fear I'll never stop feeling this degree of homesickness. Before I found out I had cancer, I'd decided to stay in Edinburgh for as long as I could make a living there and things were already looking promising in that regard but then my effin body betrayed me, not once, but twice. The cancer wouldn't have stopped me - it was the stroke that did that. I came back to Canada because I have a job to return to and because of my daughter and the imminent birth of my granddaughter and because I have a whole big collection of friends I was missing, and left my son behind, but now I wish I'd stayed where I was. I miss Evan and Edinburgh and my sister so much, it's worse than any physical pain I can think of. I haven't seen Meredith and Emma for months because Emma doesn't cope very well with being taken out too much. It doesn't help that my living situation is not what I'd like it to be either (ie not independent). I usually try not to update this blog if I'm feeling low like this as I feel people want to read positive things rather than the depressed ugly truth, but I was hoping that using it like some sort of journal might help my perspective and I apologize if readers are disappointed in the content after waiting so long for an update. It's not all doom and gloom though because I received some good news this week and will focus on that rather than on my homesickness. The insurance company paying my long term disability benefit required me to apply for early payment of a pension benefit, based on my disability that I ordinarily wouldn't be able to access until age 65 and it's been approved, which makes early retirement possible and that means I could return to live in Edinburgh without the need to be able to find a job and earn a living. I could also write all the books already taking shape or written in my head - every aspiring author's dream - if only this aspiring author wasn't so damned lazy (fatigue is another stroke legacy). All the time in the world to write and a steady income to help me do it. I've also been accepted for training as a stroke peer mentor, a programme supported and operated by the Stroke Rehabilitation Society of B.C. and staffed by volunteers. Third, my extended medical insurance will cover the cost of purchasing a motorized scooter for me, which will give me a lot of freedom and independence. Let me just clarify what I mean by scooter because someone thought I was talking about one of those little motorbike things - like the Vespas people use in Rome for transportation. I'm talking about a sophisticated version of a motorized wheelchair. I'm hoping these three things will give me a version of an effin life.
It's been my experience that when something in my life's gone wrong or ended up as a disappointment that another door has opened because of it and life on the other side of that open door has turned out better than it might have if my life had gone according to the original plan. I'm still looking for the other door this time and hope I'll know when I've found it - now trying to figure out which of the 3 items above it might be.
All comments and guidance welcome. Just don't tell me to stay positive if you don't fancy swallowing your eyeballs.
posted by Jacki | 9:12 PM
1 Comments:
Okay, so maybe it's time to accept the fact that you are going to have a sobbing incident once or twice a day -- could this be one of those things where resistance causes more harm than good? How about, just for a week, trying to just go with it, accept it, stop beating yourself up for having a bit of emotion, and just carry on where you left off when you recover. I believe (and I am a world famous doctor after all) that your crying jag's and your depression are not necessarily related -- the depression needs to be dealt with, but the crying seems to be sort of like a sneezing attack -- it just happens involuntarily. Life could be worse doctor -- you could have a farting attack once or twice a day -- now that would be tragic.
This blog is full of good news: the early pension, the scooter, the stroke peer position -- please don't rip my eyeballs out because I fully appreciate that none of those things is a replacement for the old life.
I'm still trying to figure out a way for you to start writing all of those books -- I need a rich and famous patient to add prestige to my practice. If you can't type with both hands, and you don't like writing longhand, how about dictating into one of those little machines and I will transcribe the work for you? You could then edit it one-handed.
Think about it.
Dr. Kamminga
Post a Comment
<< Home