My Stroke of Luck: How I Lost My Mind and Found My Sense of Humor

By Alison M. McGhee

This book chronicles four years of my ongoing journey from self-pity to
laughing at predicaments from my inconvenient stroke. Humor found in
everyday occurrences continues to this day.
A stroke changes the life of the survivor forever, subtly or catastrophically.
One determines if she will be the kicker or the kickee. I chose to be the
kicker and will laugh my way through these challenges, come hell or
high water.
I hope you enjoy my journey and see that, stressors be damned, there's
always room for the healing power of laughter in overcoming any of
life's predicaments.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483659824

Alison M. McGhee

Born in Oakland, CA, Alison Little, “Mikie” to her family and friends, graduated Bishop O’Dowd HS. She graduated Santa Clara University majoring in Social Sciences and a minor in English. She met her husband, James McGhee, at SCU. They have three children: Eric, James, Jr., and Lisa, and three wonderful grandsons. She managed a thirty-five year career at AT&T and volunteered to write for the company newsletter. Winner of the San Jose Mercury News Silver Pen Award for an editorial, Mikie continues to write short articles for various publications. Mikie considers this her humorous emergent butterfly for stroke survivors.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Alison M. McGhee.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 07/01/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Foreword

1.     Background

2.     Early On

3.     Pity Party

4.     New Splint

5.     Inactivity

6.     Nuts

7.     Ames

8.     Paycheck Snafu

9.     My Life

10.   Ouch!

11.   Leaps And Bounds

12.   Completion Of The Trial Study

13.   Dysfunctional Shrink

14.   Bad Doctor! Bad Doctor!

15.   Ames Study Results

16.   The Patient Is Always Right

17.   On Being Struck Down

18.   Irksome Events

19.   Kick-Ass Migraine

20.   Migraine Aftermath

21.   Pain Medication

22.   I Am Full

23.   Curveball

24.   A Little Knowledge Goes A Long Way

25.   Gallbladder Removal

26.   Recovery

27.   Reunion Anxiety

28.   I’ve Fallen…

29.   Bailey Beagle

30.   Recession Issues

31.   2008 Review

32.   Driver’s License

33.   A Day In The Life At Kaiser

34.   Another Ouch!

35.   Sosdd

36.   Kaiser Maze

37.   Solo Driving

38.   Nesting

39.   Falling

40.   Progress Report

41.   Clydesdale Bailey

42.   Senior Moment

43.   Job Snafu

44.   Another Pity Party

45.   A Wild Hair

46.   Beautification

47.   Beautification Continued

48.   Beautification Complete

49.   Crs Revisited

50.   Fireworks And Neurosis

51.   Brain Fart

52.   Fat Ass

Afterward

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First, I’d like to thank God for life, a gift of gab and an understanding of the value of a sense of humor.

Then to my husband, James, my deepest love and appreciation for his invaluable strength and unwavering support. Without which, I’d be in a different place now.

Alongside James are Eric, James Jr. and Lisa—my children, whose subtle support meant more than they knew.

Encouragement from my parents to always strive for more than just good enough was invaluable.

Never was a naysayer in my support group of sibs, in-laws, other family, nor dearest friends who cheered me up and cheered me on.

Then there’s Bailey Beagles. Thanks.

To you all, I cannot say thank you enough.

Alison

FOREWORD

If you are expecting an entirely oh-woe-is-me publication, this is not it. If you are expecting a lightning bolt chronicling my miraculous recovery, guess again. I present to you a stark, honest, and usually comical look into my on-going recovery from a stroke. Herein you will find some colloquialisms. Maybe even some Ebonics. But, that is just the flow of my thoughts.

Other than a penchant for writing, I have no special credentials.

I was born and raised in Oakland, CA. I learned to read and write at an early age because my older sister was a year ahead of me in school so I learned along with her. I loved school. However, in kindergarten, my favorite subject was naptime. (It still is.) I loved to write little stories. I loved to read. By the time I was in the third grade, I had read all of the books in that little library. So, my teacher had me read to the class. I was tested in order to skip fourth grade. Instead of that, my Mom was finally able to get me into Catholic school where I was on par with that fourth grade curriculum. After that, I attended Catholic schools all the way through university. My favorite subject was English. It remained so all the way through college. I could write a whole lot of nothing in any theme and still get high grades. In fact, my favorite teacher of all time, Mrs. Elizabeth Moran, was the mother of my freshman year’s roommate at Santa Clara University. She challenged me to take my writing to a higher level. For that I will be forever grateful.

Often, I was asked to tutor fellow students and to edit their writing assignments. I continued writing, submitting letters to the editor of the university newsletter. After graduating, I continued along this line by submitting letters to the editor of the San Jose Mercury News, our local newspaper. Several of my submissions were printed. In fact, I was awarded the Silver Pen Award for a letter decrying the deadliness of racism in our schools. I edited a workplace newsletter at Pacific Bell until I ended up writing 90% of the articles myself.

There are many ah-ha moments that we tend to ignore. There are some that hit like a ton of bricks. There are those that have led me to say, DUH and which launched me off on yet another leg at the crossroads of my recovery. Some of my missives may seem un-stroke related. But, surviving an insidious stroke is a lifelong struggle and that survival colors every moment of the rest of my life.

I continue my passion for writing. Hopefully, this passion will shine through to you. The message I hope to impart is that life, in its adversity, is better lived with cathartic laughter than in a puddle of tears.

Chapter 1

Background

On March 6, 2008, I was reborn. No, I did not find Jesus. He was never lost to me. We have frequent conversations. That day, I was scheduled to undergo a decompression laminectomy—the removal of the bone covering my spinal column at three levels. This was to relieve the painful and somewhat debilitating pinching caused by the narrowing of the column. This surgery was to avert the very real possibility of my becoming a paraplegic.

Prior to diagnosis, I thought that my tripping over lint and bug snot was due to being old and overweight. At fifty-seven, I thought that being clumsy and slow was attributed to my thighs slapping together and my arthritic knees knocking. But, because of this, I avoided walking the minimal thirty minutes per day which would have helped considerably.

But, I digress. I awoke from a successful cervical operation to a lot of commotion: CT scan stat! Blah blah blah from people who had not been there when I went to sleep. The second time I awoke, I was in a halo of red lights—the CT scanner. The most vivid, lucid memory I have of that day is that my husband, James, was crying while caressing my forehead when I heard someone say, You have had a stroke. Disbelief led me to yell, What?!?

My left arm would not move. When I sent messages to my fingers, my toes moved. I started shouting (or so I thought), Did I get the shot? You see, I was lucid enough to know that there was a shot that I needed that would minimize the damage of the stroke. Unfortunately, I could not get that shot, coming out of surgery, because it was a blood thinner. That was when I realized that my three children, James Jr., Lisa, Eric, and his wife, Angee, adults all, were at my side, also teary-eyed. Fortunately, the CT scan showed that the clot had dissipated on its own with minimal damage. Nonetheless, I began to cry hysterically, alarming the heretofore previously unseen additional patients in the room.

My neurosurgeon retreated, as his part in this episode was concluded. My life was in shambles but his surgical procedure was a success. High five. Oh, I forgot. My left hand is a no-go.

I consider myself somewhat of a sensitive. My intuition rarely leads me wrong. I had ignored my little voices this time. My surgery was initially scheduled for March 13, 2008. Someone had cancelled their surgery on the sixth and I was offered that slot. My little voice told me not to take the slot. My practical side told me to go on and get it over with. My stupid side told me all would be well. I guess I opted for practically stupid. Even during the admission process, and during the pre-op period, I had several opportunities to back out. I ignored my reticence, labeling it