Reader's Digest

July• 2018 | 123

READER’S DIGEST

WHERE WOULD YOU RATHER LIVE?

From Giggleswick to Dull the UK has many rather odd place

names. Places on the map include Ha-Ha Road Nether

Wallop Donkey Town or Curry Mallet. Or why not spend the

night in Great Snoring?BRILLIANTMAPS.COM

FROMTHE DEFIANT MIND: LIVING INSIDE A STROKE

© 2016 BY RON SMITH PUBLISHED WITH PERMISSION BY RONSDALE PRESS

confusing the vowels and consonants.

My emotional control was still quite

fragile. I would weep when I saw

scenes of poverty on TV. Silly jokes

could give me unstoppable giggles.

I’VE LEARNED THATthere is nothing

smooth or predictable about stroke

recovery but also no limit. The old

notion that there is a limited window

in which to achieve rehabilitation is

simply false whether it be six months

a year two years. So like most stroke

survivors I expect full recovery. But

full recovery doesn’t necessarily mean

a total return to the person we used

to be identical in every respect. Full

recovery in this sense rarely happens.

With the passing of time even in the

normal world people change.

So it’s unlikely I’ll return to be the

person I once was physically men-

tally or spiritually. I have both lost

and gained things that define who I

am as a person. But with the advances

in treatment and therapy I believe I

can continue to repair and rebuild

and ind a place for myself in my re-

conigured world where I will feel both

valuable and valued.

I spent most of Christmas Day
sleeping. I crawled out of bed trans-
ferred to my wheelchair and joined
Pat for breakfast.
Within an hour I was back in bed.
Nicole Iain and Flora arrived on
Boxing Day. As soon as she saw me
my granddaughter frowned. What
happened to Poppa? She was in-
trigued by my wheelchair. And fearful.
“hey’remylegs”Itoldher“until
Poppa gets better.”
The sorrow I felt at that moment
choked me and if my lips had parted
the whole neighbourhood would have
sworn they’d heard a lone wolf cry in
the wilderness.
As they were leaving the next day
Flora said “Poppa please get better.”
A year would pass before she felt
conident enough to approach me and
wrap her arms around my legs. What a
moment that was to treasure. By then
I was walking with a cane.
Meanwhile my weeks of outpatient
therapy were monotonous but the
benefits were immeasurable. I ped-
alled a stationary bike did leg lifts
did squats and arm pulls. I was inally
able to pronounce a word without