Today was the 2 month mark of my recovery (well, sort of, as I just remembered my stroke occurred on December 31–I went to the hospital on January 2nd). Boy, I have come a long way.
As you may know, I keep a hardcopy diary these days. I have been thumbing through it, trying to take in the experience of those first few stroke days. I am amazed at both the weird prose of those days and at how much I was able to write. The writer in me, it seems, never died and struggled to stay forefront.
Here is the entry from January 2, 2007…two days after my stroke, and the day I decided to go to the hospital. I have no idea what time I wrote this entry, but it must have been before I went to the emergency room.
Well. I’m starting to accept that a chunk of my brain is off somewhere, having the time of its life, or off somewhere totally dead, or sleeping. All options without me.
I’m missing this part of my memory–basically I remembered it happened, but when I call on the memory, it never appears. So I’m left without the data just its footprint. It’s as if all my memories for the last couple of weeks or so are mere thoughts, without the data to back them up. In a sense they are the same as my fake memories or fleeting thoughts. Very disturbing.
Sometimes I flounder, wondering what was real and what I made up. My dreams have the same makeup as reality these days. For a couple days, I’d believe the stuff of my dreams really happened, only to have my husband tell me they never did. Oh, the disappointment! So in the end, I had to throw them all out. Now, I’m losing them all, the soft edges of these memories slowly forgotten.
For days, I could not write. The most fantastic edges of this experience are forgotten. Now, I can write again but what do I have to show for it? Not much, so much has been forgotten.
There were memories, fantastic memories.
I do remember the incident itself–in the parkinglot of Raley’s and the hardware store. I lost a part of my brain then–just pain and dizzines and nausea. A hard pressing. And even my sight! I saw double, I saw things on their side. Then it went away. We drove home. I fell asleep. I woke up. Some of my memories had been erased. Bleah.
In their place? Some fantastic impressions: the feeling that my brain has changed. The brief memories of a storm, of a huge fight in my brain. Of characters.
I’m trying to pick up the pieces. I’m trying to note the memories real or “fake” that I did have.
For now, I can’t do any creative writing. But I can journal. So we’ll see.
Oooh. I dreamt of being lost in the mountains. I dreamt of walking through the snow, not knowing what I’d been missing, but knowing I was missing a part of my identity.