Thursday was my birthday.  I turned 62.  I don't enjoy birthdays anymore.  That started way back when I realized I had more of them behind me than in front of me.  I had to go to Frankfort that day to attend the quarterly meeting of the state Behavioral Health Planning and Advisory Council,  another statewide committee I've participated in for many years.  I got up at 5:00, drove two hours to Frankfort and once again had to park what seemed a mile away from the state office building where the meeting is held.  It wasn't really nearly that far, though, more like an eighth of a mile.  There was a chance of storms, so I took my raincoat into the meeting with me, which started at 10:00 and went to 2:00.  But at least they served us lunch, one of the few meetings left that has money to do that.

When it was over, rain was pouring down, but I had my waterproof Northface to offer some protection during the long slog back to my car, unlike several other council members who were gathered at the entrance watching the rain with glum faces.  I felt sorry for them because it looked they faced the decision of staying there for awhile or getting drenched.  I felt a touch of guilt as I pulled my hood up over my head and set out, but there was nothing I could do for them.

I drove to KHC where my co-workers surprised me with a cupcake birthday party, then I had another meeting to discuss the progress of one our projects, then I  took care of a few administrative items while I was there.  On the way home I stopped and picked up my favorite Thai food for my birthday supper.  When I got home, my wife and kids had presents and cards for me and had picked up my favorite cheesecake from a local restaurant. 

After all that I was tired, but not exhausted, and I was a little proud of myself for still being able to put in a long and tiring day like that.  I'm lucky in that I never suffered from the crushing fatigue that so many stroke survivors endure.  Why I was spared, I don't know, but there is no way I could continue to work and put in the hours I do and drive the distances I have to if there was any danger of falling asleep during the drive home.

But as you all know, stroke giveth and taketh away.  The next day, Friday, was a work-at-home-day, so I slept in a bit, but felt fine, and that afternoon I got out in the yard and threw the football around with my son.  My wife said I seemed to be moving better than I had in months.  But stroke is an evil spirit that hates any sign of hope, so this morning I woke up and stretched out my legs and felt the hamstring on my affected left leg clench.  And it hasn't unclenched.  So the spasticity that has claimed the muscles on the front of my leg from hip to toes has now moved to the back.  Now, only my calf muscle on that leg functions normally.  What happens when it locks up I don't know.  Today I walked and managed to do some yard work, but with difficulty.  What will happen if I get foot drop, which I haven't had to deal with, is something I fear to find out, but I'm afraid I will, and I'm afraid, soon.