I am trying to reconcile with the fact that I may not ever recover fully from this stroke.
It is a sobering reality to face.
So many things are closed to me now. I walk as in a dream world, one that has a terrible, nightmarish quality. I cannot do the normal things that so many others do routinely. I will have to be satisfied with whatever is left to me. That is what I am facing. It is not something I feel good cheer about.
While I was in the hospital, a few weeks ago, it came to me with rather sudden impact. The life I have pursued is over. It is done. I will need to find other things to occupy my time, because the opportunities are closed to me. It seems almost as if I have already died, but am forced to go on in this almost-dead body, trying in vain to learn old tricks that everyone else has mastered so long ago in their life.
Yesterday, I read an article in the news about the recruiting program for the Rocky Mountain Research Station. They are actively recruiting young college grads, especially among the Hispanic population. Of course, no mention was made of those in the older population. They have little use for people like me. Perhaps no one has. Maybe I can work up to wiping tables and sweeping floors at the burger joint. I am not quite up to it right now.
At my physical therapy session, I try to walk a row of cones set up in a sort of obstacle course. I have to lift each leg as I pass a cone. It is a ridiculously simple exercise, but I cannot navigate the course easily. Someone has to stand by me to catch me if I fall. I fail to improve much in my performance, time after time, though I am straining to the utmost to do better. Lack of progress is very discouraging.
I bow in defeat. The world was not made for people like me. We only survive thanks to the good grace and forbearance of others. I depend on their charity.
I will do what I can.
