This is really difficult to write, but I’ve promised transparency about my health or school or mental health, etc. So here goes.
I took my final on Monday. I passed; however, I needed an extra five points to make up for what I missed on my midterm. Before my midterm, I was going through withdrawals from a psychiatric medication for my Bipolar 2 disorder, and had horrible symptoms. Deep depression and feeling so sick, I got a COVID test. It put me behind three weeks with school content. Once this all passed, I worked my ass off to study and get caught up.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough, and I missed passing by 5 points, which meant I needed to make up those points on my final, which did not happen. So I am out of the nursing program. I can not challenge it.
Yes, I can retake the class next year—but- I’d have to pay out of pocket (the last term was nearly $5000) and take the courses before it to keep the clinical skills fresh.
More importantly, there’s also something else I noticed. My retention has taken a nosedive. I had seen it over the past several months. There were things that Pat told me that I didn’t remember him telling me. For example, a friend sitting at my table looked at me funny when I asked her a question about something, and she said I was the one who taught her a funny new pneumonic to remember the concept. I didn’t remember any of that. That happened a few times.
My brain is not retaining as it should. After my stroke, I did not have these issues of this severity during the first year of nursing school. This all started after the swelling brain issue I had last year called PRES. Posterior Reversible Encephalopathy Syndrome. There isn’t much information about it, and I honestly don’t know if that’s what the cause is. But I do know it’s been a very significant issue with studying.
To say I’m devastated is an understatement. I’ve never worked harder for anything in my entire life. So for the next couple of weeks, I plan to rest my brain, maybe visit with family, and regroup. Then think about the next steps. I still want to work with hospice patients, so a Death Doula (aka Death Midwife) program is where I’m looking next.
For now, it stings too deeply to go any further with that. Even looking at my nursing stuff on our table hurts. But I’ll get past this. My amazing hubby reminded me that I am not this exam. I am not this grade. My dad reminded me of how far I got with a brain injury and all my managed mental health issues.
As much as it hurts- hurts- I can’t change it. So, I’m going to figure out where I’ll go next.
So it’s been a while. About 9 months to be exact. It’s 10:07 PM. I should be headed up to bed after studying all day and preparing for my 8:00 AM lecture tomorrow. Instead, I find myself sitting here, staring at the screen, trying desperately to shove my veil of hesitance aside.
The nursing program has been all-consuming. Spring was a brutal term. Not just because of the sheer volume of classes, lab work, clinical hours, and endless studying, but I was also dealing with my mental health, which I’ve not really mentioned here.
In July, I had three emergency trips for what I assumed was severe, unusually presented migraines. None of which were relieved with my rescue med (red flag #1). All were not completely relieved with IV medications (red flag #2). All were accompanied by unrelenting nausea (red flag #3). On the third trip in, my blood pressure was through the roof and it turns out I had brain swelling. No known cause. Six-day hospital stay later and I’m home. Yet another medical issue to add to my ongoing list.
This is no pity party. There are far worse things happening in the world. What all of these experiences have done to me physically is one thing but mentally- it’s taken its toll. The stroke put me over the edge but I wouldn’t realize it until over a year later. Words like strong, resilient, determined, and “keeps on getting back up” are in my social media comments after these events. I am resilient. It takes a lot to knock me down. I’m stubborn as hell (as my husband will playfully but truthfully admit) and unstoppable when I put my mind to something.
Earlier this year I felt like something broke. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Something wasn’t right with my head. I was all over the place in a way I couldn’t really describe, and my anxiety was through the roof. Levels that made it near crippling. Add that to my already easily overstimulated brain and well, it’s a hot mess. I started therapy In May. It’s been intense but long overdue. The physical aspects of all the medical events, tests, allergic reactions, surgical complications, the stroke, PRES, etc all took their toll and my psyche had had enough.
Since May I’ve been diagnosed with severe anxiety (no shock there). I joke with my school friends that I’m a professional overthinker. I also have severe PTSD. Another no-brainer. I suspected as much. I’m terrified of my headaches and migraines completely freak me out. Added to this is ADHD. Very common and helped me understand why school and focus can be such a struggle.
But one thing I hesitated until now is a biggie. Not because I’m ashamed but because there is still -even with all the knowledge we have- a stigma around it. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, patients are still treated differently by some providers because of this diagnosis. You’re looked at differently by some and this can affect how you’re treated medically, which would have huge implications for me. But I’m taking a risk here. I’ve been diagnosed with Bipolar Type 2. It involves periods of hypomania and depression. I have an appointment with a psychiatric nurse practitioner for medication management, which I’m grateful for because it will make me feel better. What I’m on now makes me feel “meh”. Flat. It’s better than the severe ups and downs, but it’s not what I want to feel.
I have more to share about school and about how this is the final year of the AND program. How much I’m loving some of the subject matter right now and enjoying the simulation labs. But I’ll post that next time. I’m going to wade into the mental health pool lightly here for now. But people I know have been open about their own diagnosis and I think it’s important to do so in order to normalize it. Here is a link in case anyone wants to read up on it. It’s a lot to deal with while being in the program but therapy and meds will help me navigate through this. I will be walking across the commencement line in June. I am determined, I am resilient, and I am strong.
For the record, I have no rap game. Like none. Nada. Wit, once in a rare while, but if were to even attempt to rap I’d sound worse than Vanilla Ice saying Eminem lyrics. Wrapping however-I got mad skills.
Pills, pills, pills. Medication names and side effects and drug interactions, and patient teaching, and drug class, and…… Deep sigh. So. Many. Medications to learn. This on top of everything else. It’s like an endless stream of receipt paper flowing from my head until it piles up and you have to rip it off. Except that you can’t rip it off. You have to retain it for the next section we learn. It continues to pile up and fold on top of itself. That is nursing school.
Tomorrow we have our first clinical rotation at the hospital. I’m excited but nervous but mostly excited about it. Getting to see the things we’re learning and apply it to real-life situations is a bonus. Patient interaction is something I’ve missed greatly. The reality that people are also sick with Covid looms over us but that is what we’re in this for, right? The good, the bad, and the ugly. Nursing is not pretty. People are sick and sometimes they die. Sometimes they suffer a traumatic experience and their lives are changed forever. The way I see it, we have the privilege of being there for that. The privilege to have their health and safety at heart. The privilege to see them through tragedy to recover or the privilege of helping them transition through death.
What we do is a privilege. I can joke about the gowns leaving your backside flapping in the wind, dry turkey sandwiches, and about in-depth discussions about bodily functions all day long. I’ve been a patient enough times to have earned a solid sense of humor about it. But underneath all of that, the reality of why we are there is always at the forefront. Humor is what makes it both relatable and mentally digestible to come back the next day and do it all over again.
This term one of our classes is Health Promotion. Much of nursing is teaching. It’s a pretty cool aspect of the job and although my brain is like a full, overflowing, useless sponge at this point- it’s been really fun to learn to teach patients. Some of the best nurses I had listened to me, talked TO me and taught me. As a CNA2 the good ones were wonderful teachers who explained the whys and hows. Something to aspire to.
There’s an intense moment in Grey’s Anatomy (shocking, I know…) when Derek Shepherd says, “Perspective. I can not get perspective.” Today I did.
Our first exam in nursing school; a midterm. Mind you, up to this point we had all strived to get A’s. All A’s. Every exam, every paper, every class. No pressure. There was pressure, but not like the pressure of nursing school. It’s not about memorizing, it’s about learning and concepts. Everything we learn now provides a basis for all the things we learn moving forward.
Since my stroke last year, I’ve struggled with focus and keeping my brain “still”. Instead, thoughts dance and bounce around my head like a flea. There one minute, gone the next. Oh wait- there it is again. Remember- what contact precautions are. Did you answer that last one correctly? It’s a non-stop dance party and I can’t turn the music off. Once I completed the exam, I hit submit and waited for my grade to appear. A “C”. Hmm. First C in years. Not gonna lie- I honestly stopped for a second and then thought, OK I passed but felt a bit deflated.
Living with frequent headaches and chronic pain is also exhausting. Over the past two decades, the pain has been in the background for me. If you’ve ever seen the Handmaids Tale, you’re familiar with the constant flow of static talking on the radios the Eyes carry around. It’s always there and never goes away. That’s chronic pain. Like a constant flow of background static; distracting, annoying, and exhausting. Pain meds are not an option unless you want a sleepy nurse caring for you although I’m sure my exams would be pretty interesting.
Where am I going with all of this? None of it is for pity or a sob story. I’m sharing it because I’m now saying, “I passed! “In a good way. My first nursing school exam and first exam since my brain busted. Today was a test drive and if I were to write about it like Car and Driver, I’d say it performed like a Prius. A bit on the slow side, but got me where I needed to go. I’ll take it. Although I’d love to eventually upgrade to a Tesla.. Too much?
Armed with a list of changes and having regrouped a bit today, I’m ready for whatever comes next. For my midterm, I tried putting some music on in the background and it really helped. This will be a routine from now on. As will trying new ways of adapting. I will say- I’m quite lucky in many respects but having a spouse that constantly supports me is priceless. I don’t write this for brownie points or to be sappy. He’s legit. Being a partner to someone in nursing school is not easy and at times, not enjoyable. The constant stress and unending random study hours have not stopped him from being my biggest cheerleader. He’s made coffee runs for me, cleaned house, makes me laugh. He’s the calm to my crazy. I’ll stop gushing at the risk of making anyone throw up. But I had to put it out there.
Next week is our first pharmacology exam- our midterm. Yeah, I’m scared. There are so many medications to know that it makes my head spin like Beetlejuice. But since my goal is to not kill anyone, it’s sorta necessary to know this stuff. I’m up for the wild ride and all the adventures of learning that come with it.
As Ferris would say, “Life moves fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Be like Ferris.
Bam! That’s the sound of my nursing schoolbook that arrived in the mail yesterday hitting the table. It’s one of many but weighs as much as the Hermiston watermelon sitting on the counter. In 41 days, 11 hours, and 46 minutes, I’ll log into Zoom and attend my first nursing school lecture. I’ve waited for this moment for the past three years. My stroke derailed my plans of starting last fall but I’ve fought tooth and nail (what does that even mean?) to get back to some sense of whatever normalcy is. My ongoing health issues have been a constant dark force trying to pull me underwater. Each time I manage to surface. This past year kicked my ass and nearly pulled me under to where I could not see the surface. It’s taken every ounce of everything I have to swim up.
Yesterday at my PT session, my awesome therapist had me treat him like a patient and walk him across the room with a fake IV pole, take vitals, grab things off the supply shelf, and follow multiple instructions. It felt like I was working back at the hospital again. I’ve never been more excited (or nervous) to take vitals. Nervous because my eyes and hearing have changed. It was correct but there was a brief moment I thought, what if? What if I’m wrong? What if I can’t hear it? Worse yet- what if I walk him into a wall? My brain for some reason still “pulls” to the left when I look left. I joked that I need an alignment. For the record, for anyone who’s wondering- I do not pull to the left when I drive, thank you very much. It’s only when I’m walking. I hear you laughing!
The walk went fine as did the vitals. Why was I surprised? Our Associate Dean of Health Programs talked about Imposter Syndrome. The feeling that somehow, even though we’ve earned our place in the program, our brain instills doubt and convinces us that we don’t belong here. Everyone else is so smart and so capable. It’s real. We all related. Even with our overachieving study groups, higher than required GPA’s, it’s obvious we all cased the group of us, sizing one another up to see who we’d be among for the next five quarters. It’s intimidating. She was quick to remind us we’re no longer each other’s competition. We’re in this fight together and will need one another to come of this in one piece.
Tomorrow morning I have foot surgery. A nasty, relentless case of plantar fasciitis has not responded to any conservative treatments so a release is my last resort. They will do a plantar fascia release and gastrocnemius release I have a great surgeon and am most excited about being active again. Running has been off my plate for some time now and for good reason. But walking, hiking, biking are all activities I’ve missed greatly. It’s not running- nothing is. But I’ll take it. Hiking especially. Last year we did our first hike on January 1. I have a goal to resume that this coming year. Skipping up Mt. Pisgah like Phoebe Buffay sounds fun but maybe I’m being a bit overzealous.
Scrubs are purchased, immunizations, background checks, and drug tests all completed. Thinking about a virtual garage sale to raise money for books and supplies. Not even joking. Nursing school is really expensive but in the end, so worth it. I can not wait to dive in and get started. It’s scary. The program is rigorous and demanding as hell. It will test every ounce of will and ability to NOT overthink things (chronic over-thinker here). Lectures will be online and the school is still figuring out the skills lab piece of things. Ambiguity abounds. But that’s medicine. Dealing with the unknown and being able to ebb and flow with change.
I’ll try and get some good pictures from my surgery. Yes, pictures. I love medicine and studying the human body. I find wounds (gross or not) fascinating and like to watch the process of healing. I’ve had some strange looks from doctors for asking for that but the surgeons love it and always oblige. Why not? I told our niece to ask for pics of her appendix when she had to have emergency surgery. She was shocked at just how small it was. She too loves science and is fearless when it comes to seeing things like that. I’m excited for all the discovery she will experience in the coming years.
My goal is to keep up with the blog as much as I’m capable of through the program. With that said, my hubby and school are my priority. Period. There may be lulls between posts but hang in there with me and I’ll give as honest as a description of what it’s like as I can. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Some of my humor may turn a little dark – I get loopy when I’m tired or sleep-deprived. Forewarning. But humor is a good thing. It’s a necessary thing, for me anyway.
So yesterday marked one year. 12 months and a day today since my stroke. I was looking for some kind of witty story or pearls of wisdom to share but all that came out was a hearty bowl of wilted word salad. Nobody wants that.
The truth is, I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m happy to be alive and grateful to be returning to school to start the nursing program in September. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look at things at least a little differently now. Facing your own mortality does that to you. The sun shines a little brighter, the smell of rain and even the gift of time become larger than life.
It’s been a long road. Some of it wrecked and filled with cracks and potholes. But somehow 366 days have passed and amidst all the chaos and uncertainty in the world today, my cup remains as it always has been, half full. There were times it ran low. Really low. So many questions circled my injured brain and a mismatched therapist clogged my pipeline of motivation. Remember the potholes I mentioned?
Over the past several months, it filled to the halfway line once again. I’m taking my second to last math class, my first class since last spring. It’s been both challenging and exciting. Let’s not kid anyone- I loathe math nearly as much as I loathe spiders but the fact that I can keep up has been a moral boost the size of Texas. Fall term- the first term of nursing school- will no doubt, hit me like a ton of bricks but I’m gonna give it everything I have and forge ahead.
Brain injuries are strange. Delayed or impeded word recall is scary. Knowing your vocabulary is there but hearing it come out jumbled (“glitches” as my speech therapist has called them) or taking a bit longer than usual is an odd thing to be aware of. Closing my eyes, not being able to find my center and feeling as though I will fall is unnerving. But my physical therapist has worked with me to help get me where I am now. I think the most difficult part of having a stroke is knowing what you had before it happened and fighting to get it back. The self-awareness of it all is just bizarre.
366 days. It’s been an odd year but I’m here writing, making plans, and buying school supplies for fall term. I’m adding up the cost of my books I need to order and am (freaking out but) excited about it. I’m no longer dependent on Pat to drive me everywhere. Driving has been a release of immense proportions.
My brain is not 100%. It may never be but being alive and making plans feels so, so good.
Although I used to love listening to Casey Kasem’s weekly top 40 countdowns, this isn’t about the song topping the charts. This is about nursing school! In 97 days, 14 hours, and 20 ish minutes, my “adventure” begins. I use that term lightly knowing it will likely be full of tears, sweating anxiety, and mass quantities of coffee. But I digress.
The past nine months, therapy has been my focus. I no longer get dizzy when walking and can walk in a straight line without veering off to one side. At times during PT, if I close my eyes, I still can’t find my center so we’re working on that. Speech therapy has helped improve my word recall and memory, though I still have work ahead of me to continue to progress. Measured progress can be seen years out from a brain injury, so we continue to push forward. Pat asks me questions such as naming five fruits or five things that play music, for example- while I am completing another task. My executive functions are what we’re focusing on; multitasking, prioritizing but also coping with overstimulation. I still have some brain “glitches” where words stumble out of my mouth and get mushed up, but my brain is a work in progress and trying to sort this all out.
In other news, I got the go-ahead to start driving. It’s been around a year since I last drove, and to be honest a total pain in the ass. I am grateful to Pat and all my friends that have helped get me to my numerous appointments this whole time. It’s the piece of independence I’ve been craving so badly.
This term I’m taking one of my last two math classes (can you feel the excitement?!). I hate math. Hate is a strong word I usually reserve for spiders and a certain other orange someone. Math has been a challenge but somehow, I’ve almost made it to the finish for that line of classes. Next summer I’ll take statistics and be completely done. Taking a class now is a good way to dip my toes back into the shallow end of the pool before I’m thrown into the abyss in the fall.
With that said, if I could draw a party with Jason Sudeikis doing the running man over in the corner, D-Nice spinning tunes, and a disco ball in my head-that would still not capture how excited I am to start nursing school. I’ll need some accommodations but I’m fine with that. Whatever gets me there.
With regard to my heart and the event (whatever it was) that was last month, I’m seeing a wonderful cardiologist that is setting me up for tests to help determine what may have happened. They attempted to do a cardiac scan (calcium scoring test) last week but my heart rate was too fast for it. Since I’m already on a beta blocker, they are trying to determine how to proceed. The plan is, if my calcium score is high, we’ll proceed to an angiogram. If not, we’ll go from there. Stay tuned. I’m trying to learn as much as I can while doing all of this. Can’t take the student out of the patient.
Lots of changes but it has given me hope. I’d be lying if I said it was all sunshine and rainbows. I’ve had some pretty dark moments this past year. Some days it’s an album of Adel but more often than not now it’s a round of Dr. Feelgood.
Well hello! It’s been a while, I know. This may be a bit lengthy, so hang in there with me?
The occupational therapist I was seeing at a different facility than all my other therapy/ neuro needs are handled, was not a good match for me. I felt like I was dealing with the school secretary in Ferris Buellers Day Off.
Upon entering the waiting room, it’s a TBI patient’s nightmare. Florescent lighting everywhere, it’s loud and there’s nowhere to self-isolate, seating is cramped, it’s dingy and one of the most overstimulating environments I could put myself into, save for the grocery store at 5PM on a Friday night. As soon as I’d walk through the door, I felt my anxiety level shoot through the roof. The staff was completely unengaging, indifferent. Most importantly, it just did not feel like a place of healing.
The worst part though, was the therapist herself. She was nice but did not get what I was dealing with. She didn’t know how to connect with me or engage me, which for me, is crucial to my success. She said even when I have headaches, I need to work through it to try and complete some of the activities she gave me. This even after I explained that they can quickly escalate to migraines. If it was just a matter of a poor match with the therapist, I’d have said something and either chose someone else or discussed my concerns with her (I’m not shy). But the combination of that and the horrid environment were enough. Who you choose to get you through a traumatic, life changing event like this matters. It MATTERS. Why? Glad you asked.
In our second to last appointment, I again asked about school in the fall. I needed to plan, to give the school an answer, etc. I wanted to know what I was looking at down the road. I made it very clear school was my biggest motivator. She told me that “perhaps I should also consider thinking about other things that bring me the type of joy nursing does” in case that is not possible. I was crushed. This was three appointments in. I left in tears, heartbroken and feeling really lost for several weeks. It impacted my mental health and my ability to see past where I was at. I’ll come back to this.
The physical therapist I’m seeing gets it. He knows what motivates me, how far to push me, keeps it fun but on point. It’s a fine balance and not every healthcare professional possess it. It doesn’t mean they are bad at what they do, but for rehabilitation it makes a big difference in how you feel about your appointments and progress. The new speech therapist is no different. I look forward to her appointments and they fly by quickly. It’s a joint effort. She understands what is important to me but keeps things honest and helps me set realistic expectations.
At the end of my appointment with the speech therapist I told her about my previous discussion with the one I had left and asked for her input. She asked me if I had had consistent, frequent speech/ occupational therapy over the course of weeks. I said no. My first one left the facility and the second- was not a good match for the reasons mentioned above. She said it would be unprofessional at this point to make any kind of judgement about that (good or bad) without seeing results after about 10 weeks of consistent therapy work. It was not impossible, but she needs to see what kind of progress I make, how my brain adapts etc. While it doesn’t change the outcome, it certainly makes more sense to me. How would the other person have known two appointments in that things might be so grim? She was also compassionate. She gets how important my goals are to me and how much we’ve sacrificed for me to get where I am. I don’t give up easily. She asked what I like to do, my interests etc. My activities incorporate these things which makes it easier to do at home between appointments.
So over the next several weeks into mid-May, I’ll have therapy (speech/ physical) a total of four times a week. At some point, occupational therapy will be added in. I’m doing activities at home, even asking family to help me with my brain exercises to keep it interesting. I want to get as far as I can by then to see what kind of progress I can make and what it means moving forward.
My balance is improving. I still veer a little left when I’m walking and look left and my depth perception is not the best so driving is still a no go for everyone’s safety. No one needs Large Marge at the wheel. I’m working on coordination and other physical activities to help my affected left side.
My thought process is slow. Word recall can be really challenging. Following recipes is difficult. I misread instructions and often have to read steps multiple times. It’s a good exercise though. My short-term memory is VERY rusty so at times I’ll forget my phone number or date of birth for hot minute. It certainly warrants some strange looks at my appointments or at the store.
Being overstimulated is one of my biggest challenges. Put me at a store with lots of people, noises, chatter, announcements, music, etc and I last about two minutes. Multiple conversations at once, talk on the radio while someone else is talking to me- puts me on edge (sometimes over that edge) quickly. My speech therapist is helping me work through those things. I’m reading a book called Trauma-Sensitive Mindfulness. Every time I get a migraine, fear creeps up that it might be another stroke. Nausea can have the same effect. I wait and nothing happens but the fear is there. I’ll report back on the book when I finish but so far it’s been very insightful. Incorporating this with some meditation to help my brain tune out what should be background noise may help. Right now, everything fights to be heard at once. I can’t shove it to the side. My brain doesn’t know how to do that. It’s like being in a crowded room trying to hear everyone at once. I want to sit on the floor, cover my ears, close my eyes and escape. I can’t.
Last night my family and I all met virtually online. We talked about toilet paper and the current shortages everywhere. As you can imagine, poop jokes and humor ensued. It’s what we’ve all done best at our lowest moments- still maintain sanity through humor. My brother mentioned 3 ply toilet paper to which we all questioned what that meant. Does that mean there’s a four ply? Do you only use one square at a time? Is this rationing friendly? He used the term “executive toilet paper”. I won’t go into some of the other jokes that came out of that.
Social distancing has not helped but is necessary. I’m so thankful that Pat (my husband) keeps me laughing, even in the dark moments when he catches my tears of uncertainty. Having a Portal for our TV (Facebook device), FaceTime, and social media have helped me stay connected with family and friends. I’m grateful. They’ve listened to me vent all of this and offered unconditional support every time. It’s been a wild ride, and often a painful one. I would not wish it on anyone. But having the right medical team helping me navigate the maze of uncertainty helps me maintain my hope and my drive to keep moving forward. I can still see nursing off in the distance, I just want to get a little closer. It’s killing me to have a medical license and not be able to help on the front lines. I work well under pressure and want to help. I realize the only way I’ll get there is to focus on rehabbing my brain.
Today I received my confirmation of my placement in the nursing program for this coming fall. I’m holding on tight to that.
I honestly don’t even know how to begin this post. I don’t have anything witty or funny to say or even a meme I could insert here to garner a quick laugh.
The past two weeks have really sucked. No other way to put it. I won’t sugar coat it. The only preface I’ll add is that I know I’m grateful to be alive and to have bucked the odds. I know I will be OK and somehow find my way to a new “normal”, whatever that is.
This month is supposedly a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) Awareness month. It’s a bit of an oxymoron. Anyone who’s suffered a TBI is fully aware of the changes their brain has undergone. I realize this is more about raising awareness for other people but I had to throw it in there.
Every day I’ aware of what my brain can’t do and what it can. What was once there is out in the abyss somewhere. When I reach for something with my left hand, I have to turn it sideways to maneuver my fingers in a way that I can grasp. My fine motor skills are not there-yet.
Yet is the definitive word here. At my OT appointments, I had several assessments done to gauge where I’m at cognitively. On the first couple, it took me nearly twice as long to complete as would a person with an unaffected brain. On another assessment, it took me nearly 35 minutes for basic activities such as naming animals, drawing a clock with a particular time, and consistently subtracting by increments of a certain number starting at 100. When she told me the results (that I had passed but that it took me far longer than normal), I cried. I want my brain back. I want normalcy back, I want school back.
School- that is the crux here. School in the spring is off the table. it’s clear that doing so maybe too much for my healing brain and actually set me back, which is not something I want to happen. Of course, the next question was Nursing School, which I was to begin in September after deferring a year for rehabilitation. I was told that perhaps I should start to “consider what else might bring me as much joy as nursing” in case my brain would not be able to handle the rigors of the program, which is intense. More tears. It was as though someone took the wind out of my sails.
It’s clear now that it is not, for this year. That’s not to say it won’t ever be but what she said next was that we would know more definitively at the two-year mark, what is potentially permanent versus what is not. Healing from a TBI takes time. A lot of time. So much so that they can still find measurable progress over the two-year mark. My math classes are all expiring and some of my other classes will as well. My CNA license will expire too. We moved down here away from family and friends so I could focus on school full time. It’s been my center of drive and focus for nearly three years now, going 100 mph to do my best and perform well. It was a gut punch to the stomach to even consider not entering in September let alone knowing I may never be able to due to ongoing cognitive deficits.
To throw another wrench into the fire, I was just diagnosed with type two diabetes. Apparently having a history of PCOS increased my risk of developing it. I had no idea. This site has good information on the connection. I’ve changed my diet up after discussing this with my doctor to assure a safe and sane approach and am so far losing slowly which is good. I’ve walked nearly two miles in the mornings and thrown in some yoga as I’m able. Post-stroke fatigue is a very real issue and has affected my stamina. I’m hoping over time I’ll be able to increase my activity level, slowly. Diabetes increases my risk for cardiovascular issues/ stroke but fortunately, my numbers are low so controlling it should not be too difficult. I feel OK about this part of things.
Speech therapy will begin in the next few weeks on top of the physical therapy and occupational therapy. It helps with executive function (think multitasking word recall etc). It’s a slow process that ebbs and flows. I will have moments of progress and moments of setbacks but have to be patient as my brain heals and finds it’s way back through the fog.
I am not hopeless, as dim as this post may feel. I’m always full of hope. What I am is heartbroken. Something I worked so hard for and struggled to get into, is (*potentially) off the table, certainly for this year. What I am is lost. I’ll find my way back- this is not a pity party or poor me post. I’ll make that clear now. It’s painful and I’m allowing my brain to process it’s way through all of this to again find my beacon of hope and drive. But part of that processing is also grieving, which is necessary. My head is not quite wrapped around this so it’s like a raw, open wound that is slowly healing as the air hits it. When you are still, the pain is tolerable but if you move and twist, its’ as though salt was rubbed in it. That’s how it feels when I think about it too hard right now. I take as many walks as I can, find humor and appreciation in things I love- every day and those things are, fortunately, abundant.
For now, I’m taking things one day, one appointment, one breath at a time. Somewhere out there is a light at the end of this long, winding tunnel and one way or another I’ll find my way to it.
This little guy is trying to bloom. Soon this tiny bulb will open up and flower.
This is how I view my brain. Somewhere in my brain lies my ability to recall what I was told just five minutes earlier. Somewhere in there is the ability to guide my eyes to follow what I’m looking out without delay or trying to focus and seeing double. Somewhere in there is my rapid-fire word-finding ability and consistent thought flow. And somewhere in there lies the refinement to be able to sort out sounds that are currently fighting to be heard all at once.
It’s there and with time, each piece will slowly reveal itself. Man, that is SO cheesy but I have to say it’s pretty dang accurate. On a side note, have I mentioned how much I loathe those hideous inspirational pictures in doctor offices? The ones with parting clouds and Hallmarkesque prose? *Gag*. It’s right up there with the “everything happens for a reason BS. No, it doesn’t. Shit happens and you deal with it. Patients don’t need a sympathy card- they need rock music or Karate Kid in the sweep the leg scene.
Last week I met with my nursing program advisor. She has been a guide for me since the first day I stepped back onto campus nearly three years ago and my go-to when I want someone to tell it to me straight. I wanted to discuss spring term. If I don’t take my next math class they will all expire. So I discussed it at my OT appt. My occupational therapists say it may be too soon but not impossible to begin taking a class again. So here I am registered for spring term. I can’t drive yet and have a lot of work to do between now and then but I am determined to complete it. There is NO way I’m losing three math classes and making it rain with all the money spent on it.
The coming days to prepare me will test me. I’m a type-A personality and patience is not exactly my virtue. It will test my (current) limitations and require the understanding that I’ll need accommodations for class to allow myself more time than usual for exams and a quiet atmosphere to process information. Right now repetitive pen clicking would make me want to pull out Batman smack. Fortunately, I’m a lover, not a hater so that will remain an inside my head dream, er.. thought.
My first full OT appointment was Monday. Things started out well. Stroke has affected my vision so I have eye therapy exercises to do to help me regain my focus and binocular vision. Right now if you were to ask me to follow your finger with my eyes you’d see delayed, somewhat jerky movement. Focusing on objects close to my eyes is really uncomfortable so I need to work on that too.
Next came multitasking. I was given two assessments to complete and both were timed. The first involved circled numbers randomly scattered on a piece of paper. I was to connect them in numerical order as quickly as I was able. The second involved a similar exercise but three in letters parallel to the numbers. So now my brain had to match up both in numerical and alphabetical order.
I completed both exercises. Upon completion, I looked at her and asked her how I did and what the norm was. On the first exam, she told me the average normal time was about 21 seconds. Anything beyond 60 or 70 was considered an impairment. It took me 1 minute 32 seconds. And although the second assessment outcome was slightly better, I am mediately teared up because I realized just how injured my brain was. And how much work I have to do to get it back to “normal“. It was like a swift punch to the gut. I wanted to throw up and run out, not because I failed but because I was scared shitless.
Physical therapy has been going great and I’m making a lot of progress. But since the previous occupational therapist left there had been a gap in continuing OT until now because of the shortage of providers in this area and how long it takes to get an appointment. So the reality of the cognitive piece of this was a tough pill to swallow. This is not a pity party or a woe is me post. It’s reality. I just want to be transparent. I try to remain positive and always focus on small accomplishments. That’s what keeps me moving forward. I’m in full-on Cobra Kai mode.
That day I allowed myself to feel the grief of the situation. That’s something that the doctors just don’t talk about enough. They address the physical and cognitive issues but they don’t go over the grief piece of it. The loss of the feeling of normalcy or your life that once was I wanted to be pissed off and angry that the stroke has taken that (albeit temporarily) away from me. It’s sucks. No other way to put it.
Registering for a class got me motivated. I love school and would be a forever student if it wasn’t so expensive. I enjoy learning. I think that’s one of the things about nursing that excites me the most. You’re always learning. So that’s what I’m remaining focused on.
I will have physical therapy once a week, occupational therapy twice a week, and speech therapy one to two times a week. Speech therapy will address my higher cognitive functions which is crucial. They are working to get me from point A (where I am now) to point B (nursing school in the fall). I may check to see if REI will sponsor a tent for me to camp out at the doctor’s office, but I digress. I walk nearly every day and am trying to incorporate other things such as yoga, into my routine.
It’s a one day at a time effort and each is different. I’m determined to get to point B damn it, even when I struggle and deal with migraines 2-3 times a week. Even when assessments take me longer I want to throw a hissy fit. And even when I can’t recall words as fast as I’d like and I curse under my breath and look at Pat to help spark my brain back to an idle. I’ll drop a few f-bombs when balance and left-sided coordination are challenging and I veer to the left when I’m only supposed to LOOK left but walk straight. Tell me I can’t do it and I’ll show you otherwise.
Quick- someone cue up Eye of the Tiger. I’m at the base of the stairs and am on my way up.
when I drive, thank you very much. It’s only when I’m walking. I hear you laughing! 
