“Thirty minutes exercise. That’s all you get. You don’t want it; we take you back.”
“No, I WANT IT. I want it.”
This quotation is from the film Murder in the First. Henry has just been released from solitary confinement after two years. He believes he’s being returned to the general population. Instead, he’s told he only has half an hour for exercise, and after they’ll be returning him to solitary confinement. He’s devastated by this but still wants the opportunity regardless of how much time he has. My two year anniversary of surviving my ruptured brain aneurysm is a few days away, and thankfully most of the problems I still experience are more of a nuisance than anything else. My balance and vision are compromised, and I don’t remember almost all of my dreams, but I’ve adjusted to it. However, what is still difficult is I have trouble making emotional connections. Here’s an example: Last summer, I was on a lake in New Hampshire. Intellectually, I could recognize the beauty of the sun setting on the water, but the emotional euphoria I used to experience was absent. So, there are days when that is much more difficult to reconcile, and I begin questioning what purpose my life can have? Other days are easier. I think of a quotation from The Aeneid which I got as a tattoo “Someday, perhaps, remembering even this will be a pleasure.” I hold out hope for that to happen, and similar to Henry, I’ll take it; even though there is no certainty.
If you build it, they will come…Stephen, I had no affect for about two years. Nothing when we put the dog down who had saved my life and nothing when my Dad died. It was very strange. My hypothesis is that for those of us who’ve had a serious bleed, the brain does all it can to heal and keep us alive so it stops what it thinks is superfluous. But it does come back. The route is different and the brain has to rebuild those routes. Keep working at it. Visualization is still difficult, but I practice daily. Two years survival is a huge milestone, congratulations and I hope you have many continued years of success!
Glad I could help! Yes I am fine, thanks for asking! Currently reading Ruth Stout, a hilarious author of gardening. I highly recommend her works, even if you’re not into gardening. Her books are full of practical, sage advice for all that comes with life. Oh and Stephen, my birthday is in early September, that gives you plenty of time to garner a quote from her
Take every little thing you can get. Use your energy when you have it. Be patient with yourself and before you know it, you’ll realize you can do things you couldn’t do before. My seven year anniversary is coming up in September. I’m not where I was, I get frustrated, but I’m alive, and there are a lot of things I can still do. We are blessed and the headaches will get better. You will learn to manage yourself as to what works for you, and what doesn’t. I pray all goes well for you. Stay encouraged.
Patience is the key but at times patience seems so far out of reach. For me, that just means it’s break time and I take lots of breaks. I thought I had lost a lot of joy in the small things but it wasn’t loss of joy, it was loss of remembering those small things. Suddenly everything was magnified, catastrophic, terrifying and painful. But you adjust and you find new joys…at least they are new to you. The memories might come back but not always. It kind of makes me feel like I have PTSD but my PCP says the memory loss is normal.
Mary, thank you so much for writing. I’m learning and adjusting, and what you’ve suggested had certainly rung true. I hope you are continuing to do well, and save some of the carrots for me! All the best.
I have experienced both my parents passing within 3 days of each other and hardly crying when it happened in 2012.
I had an aneurysm rupture in 2011 and brain surgery on two others in 2012.
The last year I have been crying like it just happened. I lost my aunt in May and it has effected me more than losing my parents. The brain is such a mysterious thing.
Karen, thank you for reaching out. These days I am more comfortable with everything and am adjusting better. I agree the brain is certainly mysterious. It’s also reassuring to know these experiences are not unique to me. I hope you are well, and I appreciate your good wishes. Thank you.
