One Year Ago Today

In a galaxy far far away…

Big Star Wars fan, so please forgive the reference, but today marks one year since Dad had his stroke.

This morning I overslept and it was Dad who woke me up by calling my name as he exited his bedroom. I’m up before him every morning and with few exceptions, he follows suit and gets up after hearing me start to get ready for the day. He meanders into the TV room with his hemi-cane (now always a dead give- away he’s moving around the house), sits down and turns on the TV to check out the local news. I get him his pills and a cup of coffee before heading out to work. This is the morning routine now.

I rarely oversleep, but much like the weather last January 2, it is bitter cold out. It’s the kind of weather that makes you subconsciously not hear your alarm going off during the dark hours of the early morning. One year. It’s almost hard to imagine life before, yet it did exist and for a long long time. Still, the daily reminder now is, this is the way it is and while different than what it was, this is all there is. Yet the events of a year ago today still echo in my mind. The fall in the house, the call to 911, the ambulance arrival, the unsettling ER visit where Dad was spastically moving around on the bed, seeing him strapped in as he was readied for the helicopter ride to Portland, mom and I driving the 2 plus hours to meet him and eventually my brother PJ at the hospital down there, all of it. The only difference is I now know how the events of the last year played out, whereas this moment last January I had no clue what was going to happen. I had no clue as to the severity of his stroke. I don’t think any of us did.   

Dad will never be the same, this we all know and have accepted. But a comparison as to how he was last year and now can only be described as miraculous. At the time, after being given the news about the damage done to his brain, I was unsure if he was going to be able to swallow food or drink, go to the bathroom without a catheter, bathe himself, dress himself, walk or talk at all (let alone makes sense). None of us had an idea what his mental facilities would be like, we had not a clue about any of it. I never gave up hope; however, every once in a while that pesky devil doubt would creep up almost without warning. Sneaky skunk doubt can be.   

Fortunately, despite some limitations, Dad is able to do all of the things I just mentioned today. Even his right arm, which has been the slowest to show any signs of improvement, has improved greatly over the last few months. The sling that he wears now hangs more on his side (in case he needs it), the muscles in his arm giving more strength to his limb enabling him to hold it up on his own instead of just hanging by his side like dead weight. All three therapies, physical, occupational and speech show that improvements can be made long after a debilitating event like this and continue to highlight what an amazing organ the brain is in its ability to relearn and find new ways to do things.  

Dad still doesn’t see it on some days. That’s when we have to remind him of how bad it was a year ago and how much better it can be a year from now. For the rest of us, my Mom, PJ and I, well we remember for Dad. We remember all too well how it was that awful day last January. We remember how he was then versus how he is now and that fact is like the difference between night and day. What a difference a day makes? How about what a difference a year makes.