Thankful

I went back to Frankfort Wednesday and Thursday of last week.  Had meetings at KHC Wednesday, stayed overnight, then attended a meeting of the state Behavioral Health Planning and Advisory Council on Thursday.  The BHPAC is made up of representatives of state agencies, including me, along with individuals with severe mental illness, individuals in recovery from substance addiction, and parents of children with these issues.  From time to time members tell their stories, and the tragedies that most have endured leave me in awe at the resiliency of humankind.   The trials that so many have experienced themselves are bad enough, but even sadder are the stories of the loss of children to overdoses and suicide. 

The other statewide council I serve on, the Supported Living Council, administers funds that assist people with severe physical and mental disabilities, frequently to make accessibility renovations to their homes.  So the makeup of the membership reflects those populations, either affected individuals themselves or family members, along with staff of state agencies.  The chairman of the Supported Living Council is a guy I've known for many years.   He is a quadriplegic, having severed his spinal cord in a diving mishap when he was a teenager.  He drives a specially equipped van and uses a powered wheelchair.  Along with his service on the Supported Living Council, he serves on many other state councils, boards and committees relating to accessibility and fair housing.  He is also married, works full time, and enjoys attending University of Kentucky football and basketball games.  He has UK basketball season tickets which are extremely difficult to obtain, and has been nice enough in the past to let me purchase tickets to single games.

I look at him and all the others I've met through my work and volunteer activities and I feel thankful for the abilities my stroke left me with.  Thankful that my cognitive functioning was left intact.  Thankful that I can drive. Thankful that the work I do doesn't require  physical labor.  Thankful that my speech was unaffected.  Thankful that the agency I work for still values my contributions.    Thankful that my family is still whole.  Thankful that I am able to feel thankful.

Guilt

Reading posts by several stroke bloggers about feelings of anger after a stroke got me thinking.  And I realized I was never angry after my stroke.  I think there are several reasons for this.  First, in the hospital and during inpatient rehab, I was too busy, too overwhelmed by everything to feel much of anything.  It was all I could do, and more, to process how my life how changed, and absorb and adjust to my new reality.  Then, when I came home and had time to evaluate, assimilate and do some research, I realized how much better off I was than most stroke survivors, and I felt gratitude more than anger.  Another reason that relates to my personal belief system is:  Who would I be angry with?

I don't believe in a God who controls our lives and decides our fate, and who visits strokes on some while sparing others.  I suppose I could have been angry at fate, or maybe the universe, but that seems too nebulous to work up a good anger.  If I were going to be angry at anyone, it would have been with myself, for I believe I was primarily responsible for my stroke.

Since I don't believe in a God that operates the universe, I believe there is a great deal of randomness in whatever befalls us.  But down at our human level, I also believe that cause and effect also exists.  Before my hemorrhagic stroke, I was in pretty good shape for a man of sixty, but I did have high blood pressure.  I was stubborn, though, and determined not to take medicine, but to bring it down through diet and exercise.  That might have worked given enough time, but a blood vessel in my brain gave up and leaked before it came down to a safe level.

For sure, I did, and do, feel anger at myself for not taking the actions that could have prevented my stroke, but more than anger, I felt guilt at what I did.  Guilt for my selfishness in not taking care of myself and putting my family through such worry, upheaval, and trauma. I will feel guilty about what I did for the rest of my life, but I do not let it hold me back, or let it interfere with my recovery.  I am resolved to move on with my life to the best of my ability in spite of the guilt I feel.  To do anything else would be to hurt my family even more than I already have, and I am determined not to let that happen.   I acknowledge my guilt and everyday try to atone for it.  It's the very least I can do.