Salt On Old Wounds

a84f27de348513453296f11820784a38Many things go over my head. Good jokes, facial expressions, body language. However I am never one to miss an opportunity of when a good, rich case of irony appears. This recent situation has been a slice of irony pie that made me laugh a little too much this evening.

It was confirmed that my mom had her fourth major stroke last week, which wasn’t confirmed until yesterday when I was able to coax her into the car for a CT scan. This wasn’t so much as surprise, because as I mentioned in my HuffPo essay her condition has gotten out of whack in recent weeks. Her speech is more slurred all the time, not just when she’s tired. Balance is non existent and there is a noticeable delay in her thought process. And she sleeps more than usual- which is a like hibernation.

But the timing is the kicker. Her episode happened during Stroke Awareness Month, and I was working on the article when my gut was giving me warning signs something was out of sync. At the the same time, for my full-time job as a communications specialist at a local rehabilitation hospital, I was profiling the incredible recovery of a gentleman who was fighting like hell to regain his life.

thread-stitches-broken-red-heart-threaded-47044972Like a perfect storm, my personal HuffPo piece was published Thursday, my work-related coverage was handed in Friday, and my mom’s stroke was confirmed Monday. Ironic that my mind has been more focused on stroke awareness month than my own birthday, which is this Friday.

It sounds silly, but seeing the bars installed in my childhood home takes my breath away. Seeing the guard rails on the bottom of the steps makes it even more evident that thing are changing. Of course things are changing- looking at my mother, watching her reluctantly use her cane and walker. But those rails and bars hit a nerve.

Thank you to everyone who has been supportive of my HuffPo article: What it’s Like being the 25 year old and Dealing with a Mother who is a Stroke Victim. Now more than usual, the wounds that have scabbed over sting right now. They will go back to only a dull ache when prodded, but for now I’m letting them be aired. Because to be on a role with the healthcare kick, it’s better to heal the right way than to give it half ass care. Dealing with the anger, confusion, and fear now will help me continue to cope- rather than letting the emotions fester up and explode down the line.

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