YOU CAN CHECK IN ANY TIME YOU LIKE.

........well here I am again , standing at the top of the stairs in a dark , long , dusty hallway lined with doors , the remnants of the hall of memories once housed in the brain I had and used occasionally for over 50 years. and I'm gonna open doors that I have opened alot recently. yup I'm going to rehash it again, this new brain , what I have left is not the one I had over that half century. I feel like I was called away in an emergency a

year ago and when I returned things felt wrong , felt off , like feeling some intruder has been in your home , has moved things ever so slightly , imperceptibly , you're not sure if anything is missing initially so you do an inventory "hey who moved all my stuff???" I know I stepped out for a bit , not sure how long . I know I took a journey to dark places, almost permanently. I woke up in Sudbury so draw your own conclusions as to which direction my ectoplasmic self went , and some ass broke in and messed with my shit. moving things back isn't enough , it feels messed with , the door to the room where the basic ingredients of me were kept was jimmied open and parts of me too imperceptible to be on the inventory were stolen. is there a grumpy old assh#$% black market out there? if so my stuff is probably in a discount bin with Atari games and Osmond brother 8 track tapes. I describe this feeling so often that it is becoming a broken record but I never finish with the feeling that I've nailed it down. I live with the knowledge that my pre-injury brain could have polished it up and sold it long ago , I am trying to describe the feeling of living with a damaged brain , using a damaged brain. I need to explain it you understand , not to garner sympathy but to tell the world why I am different . it is the single most maddening idea driving me , and it does , obviously (I hope ) and so you other wandering souls should our paths intersect you're welcome to tag along , I'm going to the market. I now pause so you young folks out there can google both records and 8 track tapes. hope there's a Timmy's nearby...Phil.

A MILLION MILES AWAY

, YOUR SIGNAL IN THE DISTANCE.......my brain or what is left of it has taken on a new role in the grand scheme of Phil , never having been the strong , trusted leader type , but it certainly had opinions and its own way of doing things . these days it is an interpreter , having lost many of the old lines of communication it searches for new signals , communiques from the alien limbs it does not recognise once a quick and efficient system , easy to understand , to read., what used to be bursts of brain code each carrying hundreds of pieces of info have become the blasted static of frantic random bursts , hundreds of them each thread of which is thrumming with an irritating urgency pulling the poor damaged brain in hundreds of different directions at the same time, maddening to experience , it teases all of my nerve endings at once, irritating them into waves of pain . angry pain that assaults the dilapidated brain relentlessly , night and day , every second of every hour of every day the offending leg , which is gaining momentum and support in it's long campaign , enlisting both the left arm and even my face in the war effort . and it leaves me exhausted , each assault taking a toll on my feeble attempts at fortification . my enemy , the foe that seems intent on my destruction is my own body , angry I'm guessing at the idiot who's bad decisions almost killed us all and that , my friends , that very fact is what will breach my defences first, the knowledge that the determination and strength I count on to build the walls is being used to batter them does terrible damage , my emotional state is suffering wounds of my own doing , my limbs move and react to commands I cannot hear , treachery from within. some radical faction has seized control of my remaining brain and it's spies know my weaknesses well. as I type , waves of overwhelming sensation assault me from the leg , as tiring as pain, they gain support on my left side as they march northward , yes I just said that I am getting too much feeling from my paralyzed leg , I know how that sounds but it reinforces the belief that has been anchored in my mind for a year. I AM NO LONGER ME !!! and so should we meet along our paths , forgive me if I act oddly , if I talk to my limbs or yell at my brain . Phil still lives here but he's not managing the place , just another tenant , trying to avoid eviction. now I'm heading down to the lobby to see who's names are on the other mailboxes... later Phil.

DAZED AND CO.NFUSED

...........this morning finds me in the thick fog that is always lurking in my damaged brain , I don't know how I feel , where I am or what I have been thinking . it is like a meditative state. I have no memory of my arrival in this cocoon of nothingness , unfortunate as this is a path I'd prefer to avoid in future . I am not a being who craves peace , silence , transcendental interludes , my thought process has always been the product of a chaotic mind , a place of turmoil and conflict , loud altercations within the various regions of my grey matter , not that I was without balance I had finally it seemed come to my happy place . the resignation that like it or not this was who I was. and I miss that , the assurance and the acceptance of me . it was a loud place to live an impossible in your face argument prodding for a fight with a soundtrack that set the nerves on edge , nothing like this thick muted fog of in decision and confusion, I feel lost , unsure , my former self would just lose his shit here he had a desire to find peace and quiet but didn't have a passport , sigh , better look for a door ! god this place is annoying , screw the door , I gotta find a volume knob at least I can walk here , although my footsteps are too quiet I try to yell to scream my frustration out , nothing , bloody leg works but not my voice., I need a guitar , some garbage cans to bang together, god help me a banjo or a trumpet(I suck at trumpet!!). My life these days , is as calm and quiet as my Dar can make it , my stress level has dropped. into the basement , I guess I always felt I was a bastion against the forces of stress and chaos , manning the walls, eyes peeled listening for the cacophony of the approaching hoard , that part of my identity has been dismissed , services are no longer required for me chaos and noise equals purpose . my life has everything I need right now , love care , affection , a true and dedicated companion but the protector inside me the guardian against invading hordes is bored and feels useless. in the long dark dusty hallway of the attic in my mind the doors I fear opening the most reveal empty rooms , they are quiet and foggy like this place and so , my fellow warriors , should you find yourself in this cotton candy place and you hear a lunatic screaming or blowing on a trumpet , wander over and say hello , and make some damned noise would you !....Phil

SHAKE THE HAND OF THE MANGO MAN

.............-This morning's dilema , the anxiety of life changes , the always there kind of anxiety that sets the tone , flavors the very air here in strokeland . Today my little constant companion (anxiety) is whispering in my ear"you're gonna be a grandfather ! do you know how ?" "you better not suck at this !"... and they're off , worry in the lead and insecurity a close second. wakefulness greets me with a soundtrack this sunny morning the beach boys and Sloop John B , jimmy Buffet , son of a son of a sailor and images and snippets of memory of my own grandfathers , so old to my young mind ("not young anymore ! whispers anxiety ) so wise and strong and grandfathery WOW , am I ready ? I have felt this way before I recall felt the terror of this kind of life change my first days as a husband as a father and those moments were scary but they worked out ok , I'm still a husband and a dad , I didnt screw that up ! and I feel for my son Nick as he does his own anxiety dance. He's gonna be a wonderful dad, he had the benefit of a strong , responsible , wise and loving parent, his mom Dar who had to parent the boys and me for so many years. What did I learn from my grandfathers?? well , from my dad's dad I learned that everyone likes the guitar and the value of weirdness and humour , embrace the weirdness !! his name was John. A man comfortable in his surroundings who was quick with a joke or a smile or a song who gave me the gift of a musical soul . and my mom's dad who showed me the value of intelligence , a brilliant nan who listened to my explanation of Star Wars like I was outlining a plan for world peace , kind and loving and quick to bursts of laughter letting me know that if you have some intelligence and feel awkward or different all the time , you may not have enough !and if you feel like you are the only one with intelligence , surrounded by lost souls who need you to guide them it's time to get over yourself and get out of Wal -Mart!! Well what can I offer ?? I cant play guitar very well anymore , and this baby's parents are both much more intelligent than I am , I never pictured myself as a grampa growing up and I never did it picturing a wheelchair pirate grampa. Am I up to this challenge? my inabilities stand like hurdles in my path , I know that Dar will walk ahead knocking them down but damnit I wanna jump over them . I mean , what's cooler than your old wheelchair pirate gramps kicking hurdles over ? Right ?? damn right !?!? I am putting anxiety to bed now ! I'm not the perfect husband but I've been one for 30 years , not a perfect dad but my sons are all great people I never ran from challenge before... and wheeling away from challenge isnt as dramatic ! so when our trails cross say "hi Grampa Phil or "move aside you old wheelchair pirate @%$# but dont ask me to back up , these wheels dont turn that way !!!!... old W/P @#$%$##@‪#‎Phil‬

GOT A BEAT UP SIX STRING , AT THE SECOND HAND STORE.

GOT A BEAT UP SIX STRING , AT THE SECOND HAND STORE................the year 2000 , a magical gateway to a new century , video phones and flying cars and where would I be , as a child I thought about this in some detail. how old will I be in 2000?? On the doorway of 40 (that's pretty damned old!! , "what will I look like? I had mental images of a dashingly handsome man, never imagining a wheelchair pirate. "what will I do for a living?" , rock star of course!"who will I marry?" a wonderful woman able to balance a rock star marriage , a family , a career at victoria's secret "will I have kids"?yup , smart serious ones , not rock band hooligans !, robot servants , you know George Jetson with long hair. I wondered about these things and although fame eluded me and the jack sparrow on wheels thing happened , I did realize some of it , a house full of guitars , a beautiful wife who rolls her eyes at the suggestion of lingerie modelling , my kids are brilliant and well adjusted musical hooligans , no robots , no flying cars no jetsons. while my young brain pondered these many questions I did already have some future info, I knew exactly what I wanted my voice to sound like , like a big throaty guitar , a beat up ol Les Paul of a voice and I spent the next few decades training that voice , learning to speak with my hands , building my vocabulary , the guitar helping me survive the rigors of teenage existance , my psychiatrist in a case , it was a part of my identity , my soul , my value, giving voice to the tumbling emotions within and then 2014 , in a moment just inside the entryway of the shining new Jetson century it was taken from me , 45 years of training snatched away , the conduit to me feelings my identity , my voice , floating out there in strokeland somewhere, I would usually refer to the years learning to play in a more lyrical way like "the struggle or walking the path " but I was just a selfish , brooding kid who wanted to be very loud, July 2014 was when the stroke (not the struggle ) happened, it was another thing I put in alot of time working on , I earned what happened to me.my left side was paralyzed taking my ability to walk and play away from me, my voice was paralyzed and I found myself thinking alot about the friends who fell on the path to our future stardom , almost envying the way their journeys were cut so short and so finally , mine however still lives , packed away in a trunk in the attic of my damaged brain and covered in dust but the desire , the want , the notes and lyrics are still firing on all cylinders , but my ability to make them surface and breathe is gone.   I'm up the creek with a paralyzed paddle. I can't play vicariously through my kids , they are all moving out and onward and the only hand I have left is the one I spent years training to open beers and raise the middle finger in salute , the need to express this part of my self is such that my beautiful wife who has no interest in playing guitar at all , recently took on re-stringing one of the many axes around here from right hand to left so that I could attempt to use my right hand only to hammer on the neck and make my soul healing noise "important note to any kids out there , when picturing that future wife , go for love over lingerie , courage over corsets"...better yet , go for both ! and so here I sit a less than dashing pirate on wheels right back to where I was at 8 years old , wanting desperately to play guitar , to sound that way , loud , raw and pure, mean and throaty, bright and soaring , so if you come across me out there my fellow wanderers along side a dilapidated former highway in a battered and dusty old limo , a long haired skeleton in back grinning away , surrounded by lingerie and implants , dont tell me , I dont meed to know , just blow the dust off the old cherry burst and crack open that dusty bottle of jack.....play on my friends it can vanish in a split second....GO LOUD !!!!..Phil.

FREEDOM'S STAIN

....I awoke this morning, happy and grateful and all that . it may surprise that I , a man doomed to roam the wasted miles of strokeland , always awaken to beauty , today a gorgeous sun has found a way past the curtain and has bathed my room in a warm light , my eye , the good one , is drawn to my Dar whose beauty graces my every morning , filling my heart with a warm light as well , but my head is still in Strokeland, has been since yesterday , it has become a place where I can once again dream of life without wheelchairs and canes but it is always an ugly place , hot and dusty , filled with predators and tricks a giant soul sponge. 

This morning as my brain changes chanels to the awake network I find myself on a porch , it's morning and the too big sun is already too hot , the things out there that seem to constantly skitter away from a direct gaze are already seeking a shady place to do their skittering . something , a bird most likely , shreiks in the distance, I hate the damned birds most of all . time to retire indoors and look over this little cabin , I couldn't inspect it properly last night.  

 I just noted the lack of skittering noises and the absence of the odor of death or the sickness , sounds like a hell of a real estate listing already doesnt it ?, ooh and quaint to, simple and dusty , a small music box on a dresser, plain but pretty . I scoop it up , a good item to trade down the road , no food or booze or meds. no clothing. picked clean , there are sections of my brain , the one that was , that are just like this place , a picked over monument to nothing , something that was and is no more , all signs of its existance wiped away , left to the dust and lonliness. I wish I had coffee , a porch like that requires a hot mug in hand there's a worn out looking knife jammed under the window sill, for trade I think , dropping it into my pack along with the collection of other junk found along the trail , I search for and find my poor tired , floppy hat , like my brain , another soft and worn out thing I usually keep in the head area , and I head back out to the trail, reluctantly , this is a hard , vicious , arduous land. I'm already sweat drenched and my eyes are automatically darting like a hunted "skittering"thing, I shoulder my pack and move on out...left I wonderwho or what lies west of here, gonna find out, so dear, fellow skittering survivor, happy trailsand we'll meet yonderI reckon:)...Phil

Phil on Wheels.

..................well anxiety level , you heartless bastard ! , you robbed me of sleep and peace of mind for many nights for absolutely nothing. I was afraid , terribly so , that the problems presented by my disability might be a source of stress , worry and even embarrassment for my loved ones at the first of 2 big family weddings this summer.

 Yesterday it was the wedding of my beautiful niece , a wonderful girl who has always embodied one of my families greatest gifts , our sense of humour , and due to the efforts of my sister , who planned things out so well for those of us with mobility issues and of the amazing Dar who eased my tumultuous mind and helped make everything else presentable , I was able to attend and enjoy the beginning of a strong and loving marriage, my worries were ridiculous and unfounded and were sent to skulk away until  I attempt to sleep before my son's upcoming wedding , things were fine , I did the car transfers relatively without incident, got around on all that grass pretty well , the weather behaved , oh there was a moment there that a few drops fell , but I'm sure that the weather gods could feel the waves of "you better not !" from every woman present , you could almost hear it. it went perfectly the look on my niece's face reminding me of the day another beautiful , hopeful young woman said "Ido" to me , . it was a great ceremony and a lovely and comfortable reception , time spent with family old and new , and old friends , a cousin who has always been a little brother to me , an event made extra special for Dar and I as it took place a day before the 1st anniversary of my son Coryand daughter Shannen , a wedding I am still re-living and enjoying today . and dear fellow survivors the key ingredient that defeated my apprehension and fears , was not my strength or will power or confidence it was a force greater than all of those , FAMILY , the love of family made things work , I'm gonna sleep better next wedding (I hope )I have no idea if there are any chapels here in the wilds of strokeland but if there are thats where you'll probably find me a lone figure on wheels surrounded by the best and most beautiful people imaginable....Phil

INTO THE VOID

........................woke up stretched took inventory , arms yes legs check , only half of them work but they're all present and accounted for , ever present worry and fear , yup 10-4 good buddy , both here , and at the forefront this morning ?

The worry that I may somehow embarrass my family during one of the upcoming family functions , say the wrong thing , running nose , drool on myself , all things I could control once upon a time , I attributed a  lot of this feeling to the loss of confidence but in truth it is the horrible instance that you realize that the control , the sheer will of self image is not in your hands completely , you are no longer running the show !, 

There's a new guy at the wheel and he's just as stubborn and opinionated as the old one, just a bit different , I am blessed with a great family , my dad planted , tended and grew a crop of humour in us that is a treasured gift , they are a caring and supportive bunch and I will be in a safe and loving environment, but it is me I worry about I am riding myself the hardest , I hate the thought of being embarrassing to my loved ones .

I 've never done this kind of socializing from a wheelchair before , I am acutely aware of the difficulties posed by my in abilities , I so want to be at my best , I am working overtime at supressing the unpredictable and waking up my old inner control freak.

C'MON PHIL I NEED YER HELP ! and so my fellow wanderers , out here in the flattened wastes of strokeland , as you make your way , keep your fingers crossed(unaffected side please) for me as I turn slightly away from my inner search for the me I remember and dig deeper into what is left to see if the pride , determination and strength are still there, wish me luck Phil

THE BLOODY NERVE.

...............And here we go , this morning's most prominent feeling it would seem is Pissed off , who the hell does this stroke think it is?? .  I am due to have my shower , and that is no longer a thing I can do on my own , I sit in a shower chair , and any type of seating change causes the painful muscle spasms that reduce me to tears . 

 HOW DAREthis damned ghostly pain that seems to confuse the doctors so much , HOW DARE IT rob me of the pleasure of waking up and stretching , of a relaxing shower. I never was a big shower guy ...my sons could milk a shower for 20 minutes , it was like a rain forest in that bathroom ,;me , a few minutes to shower , shave etc., I just hate the idea that it's been taken from me by this unwelcome intruder , I am pissed at the bloody nerve of this unidentifiable pain and the massive amounts of sensation that seem to accompany it, for it's ability to make me afraid to shower, to live MYway ,.

At the prompting of my beautiful wife after watching several news programs on the subject , I explored marijuana as a form of treatment, and for me it worked perfectly , immediately and completely, the next step was to move away from the problematic aspect of it , the legal one . to be able to get this amazing treatment legally , and not put friends and loved ones in the path of prosecution.

My doctor was understanding and compassionate and signed the form but we are now jumping through a myriad of hoops trying to make this happen and it is difficult , there are a thousand corners to turn , each one requiring a new form to be filled out , id pictures that need to be taken, all of which is costing me money, there are no dispensaries here so it's either order online or go to vapour , which I am unfamiliar with, but so far this is the only course of treatment that has been effective , I WILL continue to pursue it and so my fellow survivors I find myself in need of info on the vapour thing, let me know please , I'm easy to find , just look in Strokeland...Phil

LIVIN ON THE EDGE............

.I I awoke on this lovely morning (and that is my thankful moment today) to alarm central . the klaxons are sounding , red lights flashing, authoritative voice on the PA saying "red alert , spasm imminent!!!"a feeling I call trigger mode, anything could do it , a cough, a sneeze , sudden movement , I guess a morning jog is out of the question. my anxiey level is dialled up to 11 and my fellow survivors Ibring this panicky , twitchy , wide eyed nervous mess before you now , squinting madly at the keyboard as his right index finger , methodically pokes these wild and disjointed thoughts out of his damaged head , my apologies!

I didnt intend to join you in this state todaybut as I invested all of my worry and worst case scenario planning in my sleep time through the night , I essentially just said I spent the entire night obsessingly panicking over things I cannot control , only to wake up surprised I'm a mess , I am now , having said that putting aside an appropriate amount of time to feel stupid later today, my reason for anxiousness is the upcoming wedding of my second son Matt and his wonderful fiance Katie , if I wake up feeling this way in my own bed , beside my guardian angel Dar , in familiar circumstances and under the watchful eye of the gargoyle like Hatfield the caregiving cat , how will I do that far from home ? 

in an unfamiliar place under the pressure of new place , new people? will I be able to go without embarrassing my loved ones , ?? can I eat a meal without most of it ending up on my chest and lap? how will I be able to stand at a podium?. I go into spasms in my left thigh sitting for 10 minutes on a toilet or shower chair , how will I do on the road for 3 or 4 hours?and how much extra stress will my new needs put on the peoplr I love?

I'm gonna call this Bull in a china shop mode from now on. my beautiful Dar has been stressing about all of this for a while , me too and she has procured a 7 passenger van for us all so at least when I embarrass myself it should be while surrounded by some of my favorite folks , I'll have to use my antique manal wheelchair (my power ride is too big too heavy) it's going to be a Rowdy Redneck Roadtrip see ya on the road...Phil

WHERE IS MR.ROBOTO???

..................well my fellow travellers I did not wake up alone this morning , today I am deep in the memories of the man I used to be and I am surrounded by the comrades and loved ones and others who fell , who lost their battle along the way and I am feeling each ones hopes and dreams slung over my shoulders like lugguage and if any of you out there trudging through theblasted waste of strokeland are using my footprints as a guide , here is some advice ( the only currency in this desolate dimension , if you are right behind me , jog up here and take some of this load off me please , for those further back on the trail , do not follow the sign saying "STYX" , lose that stupid 80's vibe you're feeling and turn away , that's where I got all this lugguage , not worth the trip,and avoid all of those paths that seem a shortcut to that which you desire most , they're longer , harder and rockier than they look , dreams arent that easy or convenient for us, even if youre one of those people who things always worked out for , grrr!!! , this place eats those like you alive . it was not one specific memory that took me to the deadlands but a mixture of all of them , my search for the old me found its own way to remind me that old Phil had seen some ugliness in his life, had lost some valuable companions , and some not so much , and new Phil , who hungers for old familiar memories was not ready for all of this, half a century of holding in those feelings and repressing them should not have been released on this damaged brain and heart, this was supposed to be an easy path to what I desired , I guess the old "be careful what you wish for "thing wasnt crap after all. I awoke phone in hand looking for the survivors of my childhood and found them out in FBland , I was overjoyed until I realized how bloody old we all are now , I'm thankful for that , but I stayed at the emotional maturity of 16 years on purpose and I felt that way til I saw all you old bastards out there, you all look like I remember your parents looking , weird. I will be spending the day trying to lessen this load and keep going , its tough to stay positive and optimistic while lugging this particular cargo , see ya out there my wandering friends , dont pick up any odd suitcases you see in my wake , they're heavier than they look , we''ll meet up ahead somewhere

PATIENCE

 .................I am a royal pain in the ass as a patient , oh sure I was polite , respectful (usually) and I tried to be up for anything , but sarcastic , hell yes , only when I'm awake .

 I started cataloguing smart ass comebacks back in 2011 when my angelic partner suffered her bleed and wound up in St.Michael's hospital in Toronto , I heard them ask several times a day , every day "do you know what year it is? who is primeminister? what month is it ? and I had a comment ready each time thinking "if I was in here" , not realizing that I would be a short time later.

I watched as my darling became upset at her attempt during an assessment in the drawing of a clock indicating the time " ten to 12 , it was a rough drawing and she beat herself up a bit over it , when it came time for my draw a clock assessment I drew a box with 11:50 inside "mine's digital"I announced I was told I had to try to draw a regular clock and I said "what the hell kinda test is that ? , you realize there's one in every room in this building ?" I looked up on the wall and copied it saying "if it was 11:50 right now this would be a total waste of time!" yup I was pretty popular

 I recall an assessment with a speech therapist where she said "I will show you some pictures of animals and you will name them" , my response was "what ? like proper names? let's call the gorilla Timmy and that giraffe looks like a Frank"! , the therapist called me a smartass (mission accomplished!) once while waiting at the main hospital doors for my wife's bus to arrive I was asked "what are you doing here dear ?" "do you know what year it is ?" I explained that I was watching for Dar's bus and the woman said well here comes a bus now , I looked up and said "that's not it !" . "well how do you know that ?" I was asked I said "jesus ! , this is like being on Jeopardy , it's not her bus cause it came from the wrong direction also it is too early , that bus came in off highway 11N , I dont live up there , and at this hour, I pointed at the clock (one in every room remember?) , the route from my home extends into other areas on the hour ( not the way I'd do it! the route is not efficient and I'll tell you why !, I finished saying , "so in answer to your question Mr.Trebek , I am sitting here auditing 2 of the city's transit routes in my head .

 WHAT YEAR DO YOU THINK IT IS ???"i COULD HEAR THE OLD pHIL sitting at Dar's Toronto bedside giving a loud cheer at my response , I also remember refering during one assessment to a picture of a rino as a "fucktopotomus ! cant recall why I said that . there was an endless line of people wanting to scan my stupid paper wrist band while asking my name and date of birth (info displayed on the over 30 bands they attached to me during my stay , the scanner rarely worked so""are you Phil Mccoy ?" "I was when I checked in!" "were you born on Apr,30 , yes I was , remember it well , a Tuesday around 7:30 in the evening!" . for me sarcasm and what I thought of as wit built a bridge to the Phil I remembered made me feel like me and who is better to show you how to cope ?you !! , and so my dear fellow strokeland inhabitants , keep on coping and when we one day meet somewhere on this pitted blasted expanse , forgive me if I ask "do you know what year it is ???" , I'm just waiting for the response smile emoticon...Phil (like the bracelet says!)

LIVIN ON THE EDGE

.............I I awoke on this lovely morning (and that is my thankful moment today) to alarm central . the klaxons are sounding , red lights flashing, authoritative voice on the PA saying "red alert , spasm imminent!!!"a feeling I call trigger mode, anything could do it , a cough, a sneeze , sudden movement , I guess a morning jog is out of the question. my anxiey level is dialled up to 11 and my fellow survivors Ibring this panicky , twitchy , wide eyed nervous mess before you now , squinting madly at the keyboard as his right index finger , methodically pokes these wild and disjointed thoughts out of his damaged head , my apologies! I didn't intend to join you in this state today but as I invested all of my worry andworst case scenario planning in my sleep time through the night , I essentially just said I spent the entire night obsessingly panicking over things I cannot control , only to wake up surprised I'm a mess .

 I am now , having said that putting aside an appropriate amount of time to feel stupid later today, my reason for anxiousness is the upcoming wedding of my second son Matt and his wonderful fiance Katie , if I wake up feeling this way in my own bed , beside my guardian angel Dar , in familiar circumstances and under the watchful eye of the gargoyle like Hatfield the caregiving cat , how will I do that far from home ? in an unfamiliar place under the pressure of new place , new people? will I be able to go without embarrassing my loved ones , ?? can I eat a meal without most of it ending up on my chest and lap? how will I be able to stand at a podium?. I go into spasms in my left thigh sitting for 10 minutes on a toilet or shower chair , how will I do on the road for 3 or 4 hours?and how much extra stress will my new needs put on the people I love?I'm gonna call this Bull in a china shop mode from now on. my beautiful Dar has been stressing about all of this for a while , me too and she has procured a 7 passenger van for us all so at least when I embarrass myself it should be while surrounded by some of my favorite folks , I'll have to use my antique manual wheelchair (my power ride is too big too heavy) it's going to be a Rowdy Redneck Roadtrip see ya on the road...Phil

ENEMY AT THE GATES..

........Why wont my leg just shut ip ?

Since my entry into strokeland my poor damaged brain has been working overtime scanning for any indication of normal sensation from my affected limbs and my left leg is sending everything it's got; wave after wave of a huge amount of tingling (angry tingling )assaults my brain 24/7, fills my sleep and it has it's hand on my emotion dial , keeps it cranked to 11 at all times and trying to keep this enemy at bay is exhausting.

 Doctors , hospital staff , the nice folks in imaging and emerg will not tell me a damned thing , just "thats common in stroke victims , but everybody is different !" , same old song and dance.  I've even heard the encouraging "maybe the leg is finally waking up!" great , still feels asleep , is physio just to keep me busy til everything goes wakey wakey ?

 It's like standing on a shoreline and hearing and watching waves crash against the beach , an endless supply , with increasing force and whats left of my brain is the beach (I'm too tired to surf just now!) 

 Don't get me wrong , it beats the excruciating muscle pain , and I'm overjoyed that leg and brain are still on speaking terms but I need answers both for me and to pass on , even though what ails each of you dear survivors is probably common to stroke victims but everyone is different! 

It's been a year of all of this feeling being forced on me , filling my every waking , and sleeping hour , I don't feel like I can breathe when I think about it , so brain , "TURN THE CHANNEL ! , and leg "STOP IT WE KNOW YOU ARE THERE AND THAT NORMAL FUNCTION IS IMPAIRED, SHUT UP ! FOR GODS SAKE !" 

It is hurting me ; mentally , my sleep , my physio and my recovery and it affects my Dar who takes such wonderful care of me. I am at war and am in danger of being overrun , the enemy is tireless , relentless and is viciously under mining my morale , my recovery demands strength , and my condition saps it just as fast , I need help !!! see ya in the trenchesl

 Phi.

DEVOTION

 ...............Every morning , my first task is to find something to be thankful for , most days my thoughts turn to the beautiful soul on my left, my wonderful Dar who is always at my side , always has my back , who takes better care of me than I ever did, she does all of this while making me feel loved and special, and important in a world that cant see past a wheelchair. the old Phil would absolutely lose his shit if he was spoken to in the same , too loud , look the other way , condescending manner that new Phil barely tolerates. I need Dar , count on her , rely on herl give for her, yesterday we went on a shopping excursion in our area , pick up some things we need , look around etc. we did this without pre charging my chair completely , which is unusual for us , the chair is a valuable pack horse to have along , a great place to hang bags etc.(the old pack horse is no help these days , he's in a wheelchair ). Well into our outing the battery indicator dipped very low and the chair slowed considerably and the last leg of the journey happened with my tough little , tired , always overworked wife pushing me and a 300 plus pound chair, I have never felt so helpless or useless the chair and I are heavy enough without all the shopping bags and stuff hanging from it , luckily I live on a hill, I can hear your inner voices muttering "what a genius !" and the downhill grade took just enough work off of the batteries tolet me propel to our driveway , which is ("genius") uphill. we made it to the base of my ramp and the load was too heavy for DarI had to get out and do a jerky , ugly walk up the ramp holding the fence like it was a lifeboat . now my brain injury has left me barely able to handle stress and tension and as soon as the batteries showed being that low I began to panic . my angel just smiled reassuringly and told me it would be ok , it always is when I am with her, I'm a very lucky man , for a guy that has been caught in a shit tsunami for the past year and Dar's love , devotion and wonderfully huge heart keep me going I am now sitting here , chair fully charged ("I heard that !")watching my little fireball change the bedsheets , prepare breakfast , make coffe and amuse the cat with catnip bubbles , I am thankful today because of her , in this nice , homey, functional space because of her , upright and breathing and typing because of her and learning the wonders of this kind of love with the new brain because of her , I tell people regularly not to waste their time asking me how I'm doing , if you see me and I'm with my Dar , you already know , gotta go , I need this hand for coffe drinking see ya in strokeland survivors..Phil

MANHUNT

.............Where is Phil, I am desperately seeking him , he
 was approx 5ft 11 in.dark hair , moustache and goatee, several  tattoos, approx 265 lbs , facial expression (pissed off ) , walks everywhere , overloaded work bag hanging from left shoulder CAUTION do not approach , may be drunk , always wearing headphones , has been known to hurl objects at passing trucks , I've been looking everywhere , he's like a New York prison escapee , vanished , not a trace , noline up of angry truck drivers , no trail of beer cans , nothing he was last seen at the North Bay Regional Hospital. and when I awoke in Sudbury he was gone , replaced by a paralyzed guy in a wheelchair who is sober , not as pissed off looking , and at last weighing is over 100 pounds lighter , less decisive, now wearing an earring, I woke up feeling bad , thought it was some form of stroke and walked up stairs to get Darlene and head to the hospital , cabbed to the ER , registered and thats where it all gets fuzzy , I woke up in the Sudbury Hospital wired up like Steve Austin and a part of me , who I was , had left me there, I miss me so if you notice a big tattooed , pissed off looking guy walking around out there let me know, I doubt he's happy about the situation either and and I need his instincts

HURT

HURT .................THIS MORNING , AS i drifted toward consciousness I found I was swimming , in and underrolling waves of pain.   My left leg is on the air and broadcasting a "here comes the shit" warning over and over again , annoying and accompanied by a tsunami of fear.   

The angry warning message comes first then the attempt by one of the brain managers on duty to "try moving the leg , maybe this bloody warning will stop". movement brings first a sense of the tightening of muscles , my left knee feels tightly wrapped , too tightly , a mysterious pain in the arch of the attached foot and then the crashing of a wall of hurt .

 My poor damaged brain floods with fear and panic , it seems to accelerate to 100 miles per hour and it acheived this velocity by lightening the cargo hold , throwing rational thought and reason in the shallow ditch beside this highway and so the method of dealing with this painful assault by putting a foot to the floor , which seems pointless even now becomes perfectly acceptible .   In the control room here things are a mess , looks like the place was ransacked and the viewscreen is a blur as we hurtle along at warp ‪#‎scared‬ shitless and the absence of the broodingly confident Captain Kirk is palpable . 

A yellow light bathes our little fear bubble along with another deafeningly stupid klaxon and Scotty's thick accent fills the air "Captain ! the pee chrystals are overloaded if we dont urinate she's gonna blow !!!" Damn!"Scotty , MORE SPEED!!  

we dont have any time for that or any power , when the pain hits I dread breathing, both because of the muscle spasms just waiting for a cough or a sneeze or any trigger that will open the gates and invite the hurt in , and because this entire process of building up to and including the spasms is terribly exhausting , I exhale the stored up fear and tensionin a way that leaves me soooo tired so weak, too weak to withstand the attack thats coming , depletes my defences and leaves me open and vuinerable God help me I am terrified of the moment that I can no longer fight , but it is close enough that I can smell it, I'm too tired for this , I feel alone and unarmed and a well stocked army is battering down the doors I am having a great deal of difficulty typing right now , I have little control and no attention span, my breathing is too fast and my thoughts way too slow , well the engine room says pee breakand the cleaning crew wont hear me calling with all these alarms going off so see you in Strokeland Phil
i

New Brain

I reached a point a while ago , dont remember exactly when it happened , but I went from looking at everything , every new feeling , challenge , question that I was confronted with changed .

 I went from asking "how will this new experience affect me ?" to asking "how will this new thing be affected by me ? , how will my myriad of care requirements , mobility issues , exercises impact this new development "?from how will I be impacted ? to how will I impact , I need to reduce the burden of my existance , to minimize the need that seems to accompany me now. my wonderful wife reminds me that I felt ready to do anything she required when our situations were reversed and I am fortunate that none of those who are most profoundly impacted by my issues have ever complained about the responsibility , nor did I when I was in their shoes.

 I do feel like an anchor tied around the neck of my family but I have always felt loved , very much so , the segments of my self that did not return after the stroke coupled with the changes in my appearance have made me question my instincts , as I wander the terrain of my brain's damaged landscape have left me less than confident in the thin guy with his hand on the tiller in the wheelhouse.

 I knew the old captain so well , knew his habits , temper and preferrances , I knew what kind of seas were ahead by his moods and the sound of his voice , not too sure about the new fella , seems to be a "screw it ! peddle to the metal kinda dude though. I dont know how I really feel about the new brain I have , its sorta familiar , it really loves Dar , the old one and I had a 50 year history together so I trusted him to act like Phil , now I worry that the new one will act too uncharacteristically different to the love of my life , this is all so confusing for us both , I need for her to know that all of us regardless of what brains we have left are so deeply and madly in love with her and need to draw on her boundless well of strength to get by .

 Hey ! this is my first time being in love with this new brain even though there is still a young guy in here that remembers how breathtaking she was on her wedding day , watched her bring his beautiful family into this world , somehow we need to be "him" for her , confusing for a guy like me , "us" I need to build a bridge in here , to connect the differing aspects of the shattered me , she put herself together so perfectly for me in this same damned place , and so , while you wander the blasted expanse of strokeland , I'll be the cranky lookin , pirate ish guy in front of the flower store , say "hi" and wish me luck...Phi

Emotional Rollercoasters

Emotional is not a word that was used to describe the old , pre-stroke version of Phil.   I was a big , gruff , pissed off looking man with 30  years of the trucking industry in his blood . Mind you I did have those moments when my children were born , loved ones passed or old yeller died that I felt the welling of tears but those moments were rare.

 Sce entering the borders of strokeland though I am like a fountain , my emotional state is sent tumbling wildly by something as simple as an unexpected episode of SpongeBob Squarepants ; any of the many frustrations I feel (and cause)can set off the waterworks .

 The battle being waged within me to avoid "feeling sorry for myself" becomes just another reason to "feel sorry for myself". I am still here , in the captain's chair , on the bridge , in the  "head" office , sending out messages and directives to the department heads in emotional control and to the sound engineers in voice control to keep things level and calm.

 The voice deep and authoritative, stop the tears , turn up the gruffness please , but the signals are getting lost , going to the wrong departments , the supervisor in right foot heel control is checking messages and asking "turn off what friggin tears?",   Like my affected limbs , I feel my emotions , know they're there , I know they function but I have no control over them.

The hierarchy has broken down.  It amazes me that the same ol captain is yelling about losing control over everything when he is the ingenious navigator who steered our course into this blasted and devastated place , I can only hope he gets his shit together soon and beams me outta here, this amusement park ride my  brain has put my emotions on is maddening , and it's not only me up here in the lead car , my angelic wife is right there beside me and neither of us care for this kind of roller coaster.

 My inner voice is saying " Be strong for her !" and "You should be a strong supportive shoulder for her right now " "DO IT !!!!and instead , here I am , a weepy bloody mess and I can't make it stop . I am a lucky man , she is the stronger of us and she has been through similar disconnects with her own brain , she understands , and loves me and is strong and a supportive shoulder ,, she is what she has always been , JUST WHAT I NEED ...I  LOVE HER COMPLETELY(oops gonna cry)and so my dear survivors , I'll be back(unless OldYeller comes on tv) see ya at the kleenex box   Phil

STROKELAND53: A Journey

STROKELAND53: A Journey: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Partners-and-Stroke-Survivors/982033235141745 You can also find me at   http://strokeland53.blogspot.ca/ ...

A Journey

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Partners-and-Stroke-Survivors/982033235141745

You can also find me at  http://strokeland53.blogspot.ca/

The first link  is to the facebook page where I began my forays into the fast paced world of one finger typing . since I first entered Strokeland my darling wife has asked me repeatedly to chronicle my struggles and adventures in the blasted landscape of my injured brain and to do my part to help my fellow travellers , the scattered survivors labouring to navigate the strange landscapes where they have been deposited . I have been there , starving for information , WHO? WHAT? WHY ? WHERE?and for direction , a signpost somewhere to point the way and my wife was as usual , right . My hope is that this expanded forum will aid me in my quest to aid the others , to provide some info , to point the way or A way to say I've been there and I got to here and I want to help you do the same , do better.if you squint and peer way off into the distance you'll see me , I'm still wandering out here trying to map this upsidedown world so shout and wave your arms , let me know you are out there and we can make the journey together

Pain Management

For 5 long months , in hospital I was able to shower (with assistance only once a week, having an accessible shower in my home was a dream and were it not for my darling wife's efforts it would still be a dream , but she got it done , and beautifully too.  

 For years I showered myself at the beginning and end of each day and I've missed that.  But my dream has a dark lining , the shower chair I have is difficult for me.  Prolonged sitting in any chair but my wheelchair sends my left thigh into unstoppable and terrible painful spasms .  It's like a full body spasm, all muscles tightened to their limit and at the end of it I am physically exhausted. 

 One of the most relaxing moments for me has become one of the most painful , I have a shower planned this morning and I am terrified; scared shitless of the pain ; it will take over my whole day .

 It's hard sometimes to fight the "stay positive" battle , when the pleasurable moments are taken from you , but now the old stubborn me kicks in , "I have to take showers or all the work to get the bathroom renovated was a waste " not gonna happen. my goals these days are more in the low impact , I hate causing extra work or stress for those around me Well there we go , shower is all done , lived through it but damn I am hurting , a lot and the only form of treatment , that will make my pain stop is essentially unavailable to me right now , through trials on our own , the beautiful Dar and I have found a soloution. 

I am here before you , a living breathing piece of proof of the fact that politicians want kept from you MARIJUANA WORKS my friends after the first attempt I went from mid-spasm to pain free immediately , the offending muscles relaxed right away and the relief was wonderful.   I am becoming so fatigued by pain , it rules my life and the pills , the painkillers and muscle relaxers dont work.   No effect but messing up my internal organs , massage is pointless , havent tried acupuncture yet but you'd probably have to get me high to try that .

smile emoticon , I have spoken with my children and told them my reasons for this new direction , to my doctor , my mom , I want to still make my impact minimal ( very important to me )and not cause embarrassment or awkwardness , I just want to say bye -bye to the pain and the exhaustion that travels with it. the answer I received from my doc and my loved ones was a unanimous "if it stops your pain , go for it !"and I am . so I will try not to preach or try to refrain from ramming this down the throats of the survivors out there , I know me and I can be pretty annoying (I saw that da:) the fact that to end my pain , I have to put my friends and family in danger of prossecution is criminal , as is denying a truth to those out there who suffer through unbelieveable pain , it is wrong. I think I always knew it was wrong but I didnt raise my voice until it affected me personally bothers me , the fact that I was not only blindfolded but that I allowed it to happen is offensive to me , now I'll never shut the hell up later Phil

Independance Day!!!

June 26/15

It's been on my mind (or what's left of it ) lately ; "where did I picture myself being a year after the stroke ?"

 We are coming up to that anniversary ( I hate giving it a festive or celebratory title ) . Yesterday I got up , got into my chair , rolled into the washroom and shaved and brushed my teeth and hair ( different brushes ; and had a morning appointment with occupational therapy. 

Then I wrote a bit and took off; a short road trip to my mother's house to say hi ! Not a far trip , but a solo one , which is rare these days as I always have my beautiful Dar with me. A year ago these things were not part of my daily routine . I am the kind of person who overthinks doing new things , envisions the activity , the challenges and obstructions , prepares for what may go wrong , developes alternate routes and scenarios .

 Surprise is not my friend . I had , in my dreams , made the jaunt over to mom's several times , obsessing over where the sidewalks were , where I'd have to go on or off the road to the point that if any of those things were not as I'd dreamed them I would feel a spike of panic , but all was as dreamt and it was pretty close by so it went quick. 

Had a nice visit and gave my buddy Phil , who's been pissing me off lately a gift of being able to say "Well , not bad for a year in ! For quite a while I felt the easiest path to the Phil I once was started at stubbornness and obstinance , detoured through attitude and arrogance , and did a stopover in bullheaded junction , but I am now mapping out the independance trail in my dream time , it still follows the same route and stops for lunch in the junction but hopefully will be less stressful on me and my lovely partner. 

Some of my dumbest mistakes and falls were acheived by taking the independance trail without a plan and I'm done hurting US by bulling into stuff without thinking. I did enough of that before and since stroke time and I am setting out these days as a more seasoned traveller , one with new priorities , new destinations an appreciation for the inability to do so and a very full heart , good luck on the road fellow travellers , see you for lunch at the junction.Phil

June 25/15

I had the opportunity to meet someone today who had been in a terrible accident and come out of the fog with no memory at all eventually regaining some of the long term. 

I was reminded of the most frustrating aspect of brain injury for me , the loss of a part of one's self to the extent that I have and still do suffer through bouts of lonliness.

 Yes thats right , as ridiculous as it sounds I can feel like I miss myself , the ways I felt and acted and reacted for over 50 yearsone reason why despite my ranting to the contrary I will continue to keep an eye out for the ol Phil , he was too stubborn and opinionated to just go away because he was told or expected to.

 I've gone on about this subject several times and obviously have a great deal to add so if any of you out there in the blasted brain landscape have more to throw into the mix please do , or any questions that the doctors have explained and you feel left with the deep seated need for a grumpy old bastard's opinion , send them to me , would be glad to give one of the rarest of resources out there , information . 

oh , I tried to pump them all , docs , therapists , nurses , saying,"I know you can't predict what will happen next but , I assume you have been at your job for quite a while and that you are good at it , so based on your opinion how do you see this playing out ?"  Never worked for me , but an unexpected visit one day from a fellow survivor and member of a stroke awareness group gave me a wonderful gift , info !!! 

 "

hey, your hand looks loose , at least its not clenched like mine was " or , "my leg was the same but look at me now " (not even a cane ! it was phenomenal , actual knowledge , the absense tf the old chestnut "well that's very common in stroke victims , but everyone is different " BS , SO IF i CAN HELP ANY RAYS OF INSIGHT FIND THEIR WAY THROUGH THE MIST i'D BE HAPPY TO DO SO , iI've done my time in the prison of frustration and I prefer the light too . It is gonna get better , maybe only because you will be tougher from the battle but you figured it all out as a baby , with a new brain that was fresh out of the package , still had that new brain smell ) , so you are already well on your way to re-training it. so let me know , the best thing I heard in my hospital time came from someone saying just what I am now , just ask , being helped changed me , maybe it's contagious.

Phil

Memories

June 24/15

As I woke up this morning I found myself standing once again in the hallway of memories that is my damaged brain, confronted yet again with a seemingly endless array of closed doors and the glaring absence of a simple and helpful YOU ARE HERE map. 

  It's authoritative red arrow showing me what's what, and where's where I guess, but this is not a place of maps and signposts, exploration here is done by feel and with an air of shock and surprise. I am standing in front of a specific door , not a new one that's for sure , a bit dusty , a little worn and very comfortable , it opens to a bedroom , a child's room a crib , a superman music boxy thing , made a special room by a decorator with a huge heart and a tiny budget , home ! This place is important, the very first place I ever told my Dar that "I love you”, glancing up quickly to gauge her reaction, is she shocked? Happy? laughing ?? I know I was shocked , not that I loved her but that I'd had the guts to say so , this is the one I will share with for the rest of my days , and so my friends , here we are at the start of today's explorations.

 I've yammered on about feeling like I lost a bit of the old me when strokezilla destroyed Tokyo and about the frustrations involved in trying to get the old you back , the loneliness ,emptiness , about letting go of all that and starting over with a new you , the physical barriers and limitations are tough to overcome , real tough , but the battle inside your head is the toughest and it carries with it the most collateral damage , both to you and your loved ones , I have lived and existed in a very solitary manner at several intervals of my former life , but I was never truly alone.

 Dar was always there sharing and living it all along side me through everything , she knew the old me too , was married to him for decades putting up with all his shit , do I need to find old Phil for her ? She lost someone too we both had a lot invested in that union, and we've both had brain injuries! Are we both the same kids who wanted to be together always? 

Are we essentially cheating on our old selves now? I have a hard time putting my finger on exactly what is missing in my brain pan , but I know what remains , the guy that is sitting here now has that same wild desire to blurt out "I love you" right now , there , he just did. and for the permanent record, she wasn’t shocked this time either.

 The battle we are all waging right now fellow survivors is not our own, the people who care about you have a stake in the outcome it's important to feel occasionally like the you of old, but it’s not only important for you, so before you shoot your mouth off, lash out or give your frustration an escape remember the other soldiers in the foxhole, just as tired and battle scarred, sometimes more so! Be strong! Becomes Be strong enough! For you, for her, him for them, for us. Now we all have things that can make us doubt, or back peddle a bit, but for me a fight isn’t one of them, I like a good scrap, that didn’t change. See you when the bell rings Phil

Twice in the Attic

June 23/15

This morning’s journey into the long dark hallway of my mind begs the question , "which door will I try today , let's open one up and see what's waiting inside ; hmmm this is a room full of acceptance.  I knew this place existed , know I have been there before but I can't remember when .

 I recall with vivid detail being told I'd had a stroke I knew when I headed to hospital , when I woke with the numbness , I was told about the paralysis , about what was still working and what was not , but I am lost when I try to re-visit where and when I came to accept it . I recall the detailed dreams in hospital of my old fiercely independent brain , "I'm not staying here , my bank card and bus pass must still be in my jeans pocket , I'll walk off this wing , I know where there's a bank machine and a phone , I am outta here , I remember a series of dreams that had the room I was in being in my home and trying to get out of bed to head down to my bathroom to pee .

 I also remember the moment that my disability reared its head in my dreams , reality kicked in the door of my escape place and set up a command center , that moment was truly as devastating as the moment that I was told of my limitations , I was at one of my kids weddings and had to walk to the front of the room when a voice interrupted fantasy land and informed me that I needed a wheelchair or at least a cane or I would fall and be humiliated , as would my family , new and old . perhaps , and I can hear one of you out there saying it now , I still have not accepted things the way they are , I like that , too stubborn and tough to let Mr. stroke win one . 

This condition has been bringing forward several bouts of rebellion, while in hospital I refused to shave my face for 5 months, I have no clue where the first sprouts of rebel attitude grew from, lately it is my hair that I don’t want cut, no idea why, if I remember properly long hair was a pain in the ass, but I guess it makes me feel I have retained a tiny spot in the control room again. 

My hand is that much closer to the wheel and when the ship kicks into high gear and takes a crazy "what is this guy? nuts !" turn you can rest assured that Elvis is back in the building and captain stubing , gopher , and the shuffleboard equipment are floating in our wake somewhere . since I have no idea of where I may have encountered the point of acceptance I choose to take the path of badass , and say I know one tells me what I can and can't do , I feel that this stance is cool but not particularly healthy and I hear the angelic Dar in the background saying that I have to accept to move ahead , I guess that is so , she's never wrong , so I'll work on it but I will accept rebelliously and so when someday we meet fellow survivor I will probably have both a cane and a pony tail , somewhere between badass and dumbass.  Phil

Fear & Survival of The Fittest

June 22/2015

I never plan these little jaunts into my devastated brain landscape ahead of time ; I just go with what's there when I awake each day .  Today’s subject is fear . I've said recently that one of the keys of survival is to be available and ready to rock when confronted with challenges like physio therapy, it is so important to rise to the challenge, take some control over your recovery, having said that I will chat about the trepidation that travels along side of challenge. 

I have a bi-weekly physio appointment today, I will most likely do things I have done before, sit to stands, some walking with my quad cane in the hospital hallway and I have awakened afraid. 

What if I can't do it? If I fall? All of the amazing amount of multi-tasking involved in the act of walking is weighing heavily on me today. Now these are things I can do. Can do well. I meet the expectations that I should , have several times , it doesn't help things knowing that it is the act that seems to prompt therapists to throw new wrinkles my way , "lets walk on the grass !" , "go outside" , "without the cane!!" and I know that I have my own expectations to overcome , my own doubts. 

I'm not as worried about not meeting the expectations of others as I am having to realize I have reached the full extent of my rehabilitation . I am terrified of that moment . so I'm gonna go to physio , gonna grab onto my recovery and make it my bitch !I'll be a rock star in that hallway for my sanity , for all of the therapists hard work , for my beautiful Dar who has been present for every step I've taken , for my family and because I have gone and on and on about the importance of being a part of your recovery , for you my dear survivors , for everyone who is even more scared than I am .

 So get up off your ass Phil , get involved ! Be strong, for them for her and especially for you. I don’t want to fail but I'd rather pick myself back up (done that a few times already) than, wonder if I could have. The voices in my head are all shouting at once, with distinctly different character voices like a Pixar movie, "You can't back down after telling folks they have to try!" "c'mon be a man!!!”, "you have to be strong for Dar she was always strong for you!!!!!”, "the parabus is already arranged!""They’re expecting you, it would be rude!" (damned Canadian voice”. 

since I moved to Stroke town, my life has always been like this, with fear and indecision trying to steer the ship and the old captain who was not afraid and made decisions seems to have fallen overboard, well he may be off somewhere but stubborn pride still has a room here and that voice is yelling "shut the hell up everyone, we're going and we're going to nail it!”Tomorrow’s post is either going to be triumphant as hell or pretty sheepish, either way I have to try. I'm going to walk again! , it probably won’t be pretty, I won’t be doing a jeans commercial, but the first and most important step is to get outa bed and try and I still have a whole room full of try in here, so be tough, do it for you, stop looking for the old you and give the new guy a kick in the ass, do it to shut up the Pixar voices, someday we can both say "I did it!" as we walk together.... GET UP....! Phil