… to recovery. and counting. I didn’t mean to go 2 whole years before writing another post, but life just happens. I did write a draft blog update post in speech therapy last year, but didn’t get a chance to edit out all the mistakes, so I never posted it. so that one will just be for me. Over past two years I’ve been gaining a clearer understanding of what happened to me in 2020. I’ve been in my wheelchair quietly observing and getting accustomed to my new normal: life as a hemiplegic woman in my early 30s and I guess I will just talk about what it has been like.
therapy in the beginning of course was so painful, but I set a goal to get out of my wheelchair someday and knew I had to just endure and push through all the pain.
the equinovarus deformity or contraction in my left leg and left hamstring got so bad that I had very limited range of motion, so my PT encouraged me to get surgery to get my hamstring released and achilles tendon lengthened and I got this done on April 11th of this year. this was completely voluntary and my surgeon gave me no guarantees I would walk unassisted but I had a feeling it would make it a lot better so I decided to do it for my husband and girls. I figured it was worth a try instead of staying the exact same or stagnant. This was the first surgery I was completely aware and conscious for beforehand but I knew I would be okay because I had already gone through multiple brain surgeries already with God’s help; surgery went as smooth as I could have hoped, but the recovery was very rough. I was short casted at the ankle for 6 weeks plus put in a knee immobilizer and special chair to keep that leg elevated for those full 6 weeks; with the cast, I could not get it wet nor shower normally; it was the longest 6 weeks of my life. I spent my 33rd birthday in that horrible set up; cast removal day came and seemed to jump start my recovery all over again and I returned to PT with a left leg that had full range of motion and much better extension. I left off with the hemi-walker, but did so well on it that my PT said that I was going to try a cane. My initial reaction was disbelief and I felt really unbalanced my first time using it. Fast forward to now, I went from a 4 point cane, to 3, this past week of PT my therapist and I came to the conclusion that I no longer need my chair. An unexpected result of the leg surgery was no longer having intense pain or “tone” And she reduced me to 1-day a week of therapy because I am doing so well; she had me walk outside around the entire outpatient rehab building, even up a flight of stairs and she said I could go on our upcoming trip without using my chair.
All this to say I’m not all out of the woods. and life isn’t any ‘easier’ by any means. though I can walk via cane, I am still hemiplegic, so I use my good arm for the cane and cannot carry anything else as I walk and I still require an AFO (ankle-foot-orthosis) I am still a fall risk. I still bear most of my weight on my right side so it does get fatigued fairly quick, for longer walks I will still use my chair, it’s just not completely necessary for me to live and for that I am so grateful. I can do all of my favorite things in life sans wheelchair.
that is the mobility/physical update on my life
Cognitively, everything feels to be in tact. Thanks to the unfailing support of my family and friends, most especially my wonderful husband for always putting me first. I’m so lucky we met and fell in love so young, not to mention he’s the man of my dreams, no less and we have our two beautiful girls, which is already more than I could have asked for.
the one thing I struggle with is not knowing/never will know who I would be now if I had never had my strokes or lost my left side mobility, I wouldn’t have found out how strong I am, that’s for sure and I will always miss the old ‘able-bodied’ me and wonder who she would have been, but for now I am happy and proud of my strength and resilience
I have peace knowing my body probably had to have the strokes in order to deliver and save my baby; our 30-week miracle preemie baby stayed in for the perfect amount of time. Her doctor declared her at normal development at her 15-month appointment before the actual 2 years and she continues to grow and be our “eternal joy” by definition of her name Gilana literally means eternal joy 🙂
I’m forever grateful to everyone who has reached out and visited me in the last 2 years; each of you have helped us get through the hardest of times
As positive as I strive to be at all times, I would be lying if I said everything was perfect; There’s still so much I miss about the old me.. my independence, my job etc
The thing about going through a traumatic experience and living to talk about it is it will stay with you forever, no matter how you come out of it and everything may seem okay, but it is also okay not to be okay.
People tell me a lot that I’m the ‘strongest’ person they know, but I still don’t know what that really means.
I’m not gonna lie, my mental health really suffered the first few years, not fully comprehending how or what happened to me. Missing so much of Gilana’s first year, put me in a depression where I cried a lot. like a lot. I struggled with feeling like only being half the mom I wanted to be, questioning if she would know I was her mom even though I couldn’t hold her with both arms.. I still struggle with it.
But the honest truth is that I would go through it all over again knowing I would still get her for the rest of my life.
I want to thank my family and best friends for sticking by me and loving me all the same despite my deficits.
