The farther forward we move from April 9, 2022, the more distant our old life seems. We are continuing to settle into the changing roles that this new life has forced upon us, and for better or for worse we are trying to accept that we are no longer the same people we were before. Getting through the first year was hard, but looking back I think we knocked it out with fight or flight mode in full gear. As we hit the 2 year stroke-iversary mark, I think this second year has almost been harder than the first, as the adrenaline wears off and the reality of permanence sets in.

But that’s not to say that this past year hasn’t also brought some ease into our daily lives and has been a blessed one, reminding us that the good and the bad can co-exist. The last twelve months have seen lots of improvement and there has been plenty of progress in Clayton’s recovery. Sometimes it can be frustrating to reminisce about the easy peasy pre-brain hemorrhage baseline compared to the limitations we have on our lives now (i.e. Clayton was running miles at a time before vs. today using a cane to slowly walk a block or two). So instead of comparing those old apples to new oranges let’s try to at least keep the citrus fruits together and think about what has improved over the last 731 days (I’m not even going to compare the earliest of those in the ICU):

2022 - limited balance, very slouchy, gait belt when out of wheelchair; one or two heavy steps with a knee locking brace and hemiwalker; max assist showering using a bench; slight arm movement in specific muscle groups often only in response to resistance

2023 - better balance, stands up tall, no gait belt; one or two blocks walking with wide-base cane; min assist showering Clayton can get himself in/out if bench is set up; some purposeful arm movement in certain muscle groups but can activate almost all with a little gumption

Now - Clayton can regain balance if he stumbles, gives standing one-armed hugs without tipping, forgot we even owned gait belts, barely uses wheelchair when going on small excursions; four to five blocks walking (steady gait and long steps) with only a point cane for balance; min assist getting in/out standing showers; some purposeful arm movement and increased range for certain angles

Those are obviously just the biggest things that came to the top of my head, and there are a plethora of other improvements that continue to make every day a little easier. Bathroom, getting dressed (sometime even shirts), mental stamina, left attention (depending on the circumstances), stairs…  And let’s not forget about how nicely(?) that mullet is growing back.

I have often heard or read about people who have suffered tragedy proclaiming that it has Changed Life for the Better(!). Because of the life changing event they met new people, they changed careers, they slowed their life down, they spent more time with family, they learned how to stress less, they started focusing on their health, they gave up the toxic things in their life, etc etc.  I don’t think we are there yet. *I* definitely am not there yet. Don’t get me wrong, we have absolutely met some fantastic people!, our lives briefly slowed down, and I truly appreciate every extra day together that we are blessed with. But when this hemorrhage happened we were both fit (for us at least) and physically active, I may have had stress/anxiety but now it’s so much different/more, the three of us would spend time together taking road trips or exploring family hobbies like hiking and skiing. How many chapters does it take for the gains to outweigh the losses, and for the gratitude to kick in? Spoiler alert: I guess for me it’s not two.

But we are working on it — by finding ways to pay forward the help we have received to get us to this point, by planning quality time with our teen before college next year, and sometimes just by taking a moment to appreciate one simple hour spent drinking coffee while playing cribbage. We will continue to celebrate the wins as we start this Third Chapter of this season of The Stroke of Our Lives (As the Brain Turns? All My Neurons? The Young & The Skull-less?). So I’m not good at turning soap opera names into stroke opera names... go ahead and turn the channel if you want. But if you’re still here with us then grab a drink and feel free to keep watching, because the main characters are all settling into their roles and I don’t see any writer’s strike on the horizon. You’re guaranteed some heartfelt moments, probably some crying, and as always a good dose of comic relief.