My stroke and such...

On August 10 of last year, I had a stroke. I only know this because when I got to the hospital, that was the date on my bracelet.

That may have been the date of my admittance to the hospital, or even the date of my transfer from one hospital to another. I don't know. I was non-verbal for most of the summer.

I also have holes in my memory. For instance, I don't remember the stroke itself (although my wife, Robin, told me about it afterwards). Apparently I pissed myself.

I do remember the ambulance ride afterwards, but only in flashes. It was the first of many ambulance rides of which I can't quite remember. They all blend together after a while.

Up until the stroke, I had only ridden in an ambulance once, when I was nineteen and wrecked my parents' minivan. I remember that time distinctly - I ran a stop sign and was hit by a drunk driver. He had only been drinking because he had a new son and had celebrated with champagne. The accident was completely my fault but the insurance company blamed him.

He called me at home once on a Sunday morning. I apologized but I still felt guilty. When my parents got home from church, they were angry - apparently he wasn't supposed to call me directly.

I've long since forgotten his name, but at one point I tried to look him up on Facebook and offer his kid a scholarship.

But I digress.

It was a problem before the stroke and it's more of a problem now. I can't focus or stay on subject, which
wouldn't have been a problem except I was a writer.

I say "was a writer" and "not am a writer" because although I've written quite a bit (pre-stroke) I have only had five or six things published. (And I self published a couple of books, but I've never thought that counted.)

As a matter of fact, I self published a book right before the stroke and my wife edited it. In hindsight, editing and publishing that book may have caused my stroke.

I think of something at least once a week that "caused the stroke."

My son is convinced it was a level of Super Metroid that I was playing a day or two before the stroke. (It was the boss level and I got extremely frustrated and kept dying.)

Robin swears it was my diet (as I had a fondness for salty, unhealthy foods.) She still won't buy me butter so I can cook creole. My jambalaya was my favorite dish to make.