Writing is like taking a constipated poo these days. That’s what a stroke will do to a writer.
Here’s the rub.
This semester, I will probably not take classes. I’ve been obsessed with this for at least a week, and I just can’t envision myself doing it. My brain stays focused for 2 hours a day after which point it just fizzles into a sobbing, foggy mess. To write a paper would be like some couch potato running a marathon. To try to stay focused in a seminar would be nearly impossible. Nevermind the fact that my prose is just soggy.
If I let myself have some time to heal, I know I’ll end up better off. And besides, I’ve had enough “tests”:
- a CT scan which determined that i’d had some sort of brain event
- an MRI which determined that i’d had a stroke
- an angiogram (angioscan?)
- an MRA (angiography?)
- an echocardiogram of my heart
- an upper endoscopy where they discovered a hole in my heart
- tons of blood (who knows how many times i’ve been stuck and have had blood pulled from me)
And I’ve had my fair share of emotion, too. Apparently, one of the side effects of strokes is more crying and not being able to contain my temper. I’ve cried when I found out my hubby doesn’t have to give me lovenox shots anymore (it was happiness, people), I’ve cried when I just felt overwhelmed. I’ve totally shot down the people at the pharmacy when they gave me attitude. Sheeit.
Soon, I’ll be writing again, and this blog will turn to that subject. For now, it’s about my healing as a writer. I learned today, after several hours of being at work, that I just shouldn’t strain myself so much. I think I can take 2 hours of concentrated effort. My brain is still really foggy. I came home and cried for half an hour because I couldn’t remember a question I wanted to ask. I couldn’t remember what the doctor told me on the phone. I was overwhelmed by the most basic crap. I just felt so fucking stupid. This, after my friends at work did their best to shield me from all the inquisitive visitors. This, even though I know I’ll eventually be okay. Sheeit.