I used to be suprstitious. Now, I spend my time trying to be. I mean, I used to base everything around my favorite number. Now I just do things and then, rarely, I'll figure out a way in which my favorite number is involved. Or, I use to wear a lucky shirt or bra or whatever, now I try to figure out what was lucky about them. Or, which thing it was that I was wearing so that I can wear it again. But maybe it was only lucky for that day. It just doesn't make any sense to me anymore. I don't know if it was the stroke that did it(they did coincide) but it would sure be a lot easier if I could just be supertstious again. Then I'd know what bra to wear.

Sleeping is so important when you've had a stroke. It matters in ways that go deep inside the brain. But, it also matters if one side of your body is paralyzed. You see, my right arm was paralyzed and every night before going to sleep I would position it so that it was under my head. Thus my hand would be flattened by my head and, since I had no way to move it, it would stay that way until I woke up in the morning. Not very scientific, but it was a passive exercise that I did for at least 10 hours a day. That's pretty good when you think about it. I did active exercises when I was awake, although nobody could tell that I was doing them. I mean, trying to move a body part that does not want to move is a very active exercise. I would just sit on the couch and will my arm to move. At first it was just a slight movement of a finger, the faintest hint of my elbow bending. After about 2 months I was able to move my arm again. It looks perfectly normal to the untrained eye. Even the trained eye has to look carefully.

Let's go back to the beginning. I don't really remember the day of my stroke. It's very spotty. I kind of remember talking about taking an ambien so I could go to sleep. That is strange enough because I tried it once before and I could not stand how it made me feel. I then remember . . . waking up in the hospital two days later. Joe remembers finding me on the bathroom floor and heroically picking me up and getting me to the bed. He called my Mom, he called 911, he called my Mom again. He kind of stopped remembering too. He does remember them saying that I'd had a stroke.

The toes on my right foot curl under. Not all the time, just enough to serve as a reminder in case I'm not thinking about my stroke. I can't wear shoes with heels, or without. I seem to live in flip-flops. Great for LA, bad for the east coast winters. Lately I've taken to wearing the same pair of brown slip-ons. My toes are slowly straightening themselves out. If only everything worked like my old, reliable, brown slip-ons.

After my stroke I was constantly walking into things that were on my right side. I thought this was kind of funny. I mean, how often do you see a grown, sober person walking into a wall or doorway or planter. I didn't laugh out loud about it (because I couldn't), but trust me I was laughing. And you know the funniest thing, I secretly think that my rehab team thought that it was funny. They gave me control of a wheelchair that was occupied by a woman who couldn't talk. So here we are, a woman who can't walk a straight line pushing the wheelchair of a woman who can't tell her to turn left or stop. What's the name of that Richard Pryor movie, "See No Evil, Hear No Evil". What a comedy of errors. The nurses should be fired for that one.

CRP-c reactive protein, a little hiccup that I noticed on my hospital records, but was told "All your levels were off because of the stroke." They didn't bother to do another test to see if it was normal. Now, 11 months later, a medical doctor who has gone into alternative medicine asks me if I know what CRP, or c reactive (I finish the phrase for him) protein is? I go on to tell him about my initial thought, and that my level was 19 compared to .2 or less in normal, healthy people. God bless the doctors who saved my life, but let's also hear it for the doctor who may have found a symptom. Now we'll wait and see about the treatment.

A part of my brain is dead. A 1x2x1 inch section deep in the left hemisphere. I never noticed it before. I don't miss it now. I'm sure it controls some vital function that I will come to regret not having but for now. . . well, I don't have a temper anymore. I never got sad that I had a stroke. I feel happier now than I was before. I don't mean this in a "Oh, I am so happy to be here I could never be sad again" way. It's not that deep. I just mean that my brain somehow feels happier. I don't understand it yet, but maybe one day I'll do some research.