Retire

R

Retire. The age you're supposed to be when you are stopping. Going. Leaving. Going to a better life after finishing the job. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I was sixty, not going, not leaving, still finishing the job, and loving the way it was supposed to be. But health got in the way. Now I have retired.

E

Entering a new life. Writing. Reading. Solving crossword puzzles. Walking. Cooking. Word With Friends. It's supposed to be this way. Writing a blog that I love and you will love or not love. Reading again and loving it after finishing the  novel "For One More Day" in twenty-two days and finding a non-fiction book by the same author, Mitch Albom, and starting "Have a Little Faith." Solving crossword puzzles that are a little more complicated than the easy puzzles. Walking to the library, the post office, or just walking around the block. Cooking that will never match you know who's cooking but will improve. Words With Friends, that game that gets us to stay in touch, challenging us, and annoying us a little.

T

Take. Take it easy. Take care. Take a deep breath. Take charge. Take a little. Take a lot. I have been taught about taking. Now I have to give...Give back. Give because I am retired.

I

I. I am retired. I miss the kids in school. I miss my colleagues. I miss the rest. Retired means I can't be there anymore. The kids were what I was there for. The colleagues were my people, all of them, and I love all of them. I miss the rest: hellos to everyone in the hallway, helping whenever I could, learning whenever they taught. I am retired.

R

Rest, relax, recharge. Health got in the way. Rest because I need to. Relax because I want to. Recharge because I can rest and relax in time and start again with whatever I choose to do.

E

Eager. Eager for the future. Doing. Creating. Volunteering. Working. Playing. Yearning for the past. Eager for the memories. Beautiful memories. I am retired.

A Slow Read

I've been feeling much better these days. My walking has improved as the hesitation in my right leg is almost negligible I walk. This is thanks to physical therapy which ended at the end of December. My right hand grips much better as I work around. This is thanks to Occupational therapy which ended at the end of January. There are hardly any signs of paralysis expect for my handwriting, which has shrunk. At the end of March I got certified to drive again. I have finished Speech therapy as of the end of April. I can form words well, but the words don't like me. The noise processor does not work well, and in crowds or small groups, I can't function. If it is quiet, I can read. I can read the headlines of an article, and if it amuses me, I can slowly read it. People say that I look good. That's is a miracle. If I talk with an individual I can talk well, but noise and talk are the enemy. All in all, things are getting better.

So now I've begun reading books. I started with a book I received for my birthday called "The 10 Essential Hugs Of Life". I was a slow read but I made it through it. Large print, short chapters, and just reading. Four weeks later - done! I really thought that it was about different hugs you share, but it examines hugging your parents, your family, your job, your past, your future, and especially your self metaphorically-150 pages of easy practicing. Still slow, I liked reading!

Now it was time for a novel. In the recent years, I've been attracted to heartwarming tales that tell a good story with a complicated man as the focus. Problems, a past, a stubborn streak, and a little curmudgeon thrown in. "A Christmas Carol", "Calico Joe", "A Redbird Christmas: A Novel", and "Tuesdays With Morrie". I wanted to read a book like the others. So I went to the library - first time since 2014, before the strokes. I was overwhelmed. The aisles were so small. There was talking. So many titles. I wanted to leave. On my way out, I stumbled upon a section where "Tuesdays With Morrie" was featured...and I found the author, Mitch Albom. Eureka, I have a book - "For One More Day"!

Eight days of this book and I can slowly read. Eight days of reading about this complicated soul, with problems, a past, a stubborn streak, and a little curmudgeon thrown in - 47 pages in - and I have to read every day...and I want to!

Then and Now - Ramblings

It was a miracle.
It's been three months. 
Like the first stroke, I was awake.
It was a miracle.
I remember the commands from Jackie: "Joe, talk to me." 
I could see her, there was no voice to respond to her commands.
Different than the first, there was no sunshine. 
I was flying in the sky. 
It was a long journey from the house to the first station, 
and even longer to the city.
But it was a miracle.
Different from the first stroke, a new procedure was done.
Mechanical thrombectomy. 
It was not a common term, but it was the best thing to come out of this debacle.  
The tube, the artery to the brain, and the clot that was no more: like 1, 2, 3, and the blood flowed. 
It was a new thing to consider the dinner table. 
It was a miracle.

It was a nightmare.
Like the first stroke, I left the city hospital. 
Different than the first stroke, I went to a rehab hospital.
It was a nightmare.
I was checked in, a peek at my records and there was trouble. 

A name and a birthday date were the only facts that were correct. 

Diabetes - No! Blood Pressure - No! Any condition - No! 

Here's to the professional who corrected data, and no foreign medication administered to me.
I wanted to go home.

It was a nightmare.
Different than the first the stroke, I was not home. 
I was checked from top to bottom. Nobody asked. They just did. 

They checked EVERYTHING. 
I was escorted to the bathroom, and was not alone until I was sitting. 

When I was done, I called and they came. 

I stood up.

When I took a shower, I had company. 

When I shaved I had company.

Safety first. 

In hindsight, it was a miracle. 

At the time it was a nightmare.

It was a just a little mistake.
Like the first stroke, I was making blunders.
I could not find my keys,
and they should have been on the key rack.
I couldn't find them anywhere.
I looked everywhere.
"Did you look on the key rack?"
said you-know-who.
It was just a little mistake.
There was a rack of spoons around the corner.
After hours of looking...
There it was.
Just like keys misplaced, like crackers in the fridge,
It was just a little mistake.
Luckily, there are mistake organizers for pills.

White, yellow, orange, pink, blue...
Like the first stroke, there are many. 
There were none before the first stroke.
A rainbow helps correct the confusion because
It was a just a little mistake.



It is a blessing.
Like the first stroke, there were many things that were not working.
The outpatient physical and occupational therapists brought my to an acceptable level.
My right side continues to improve.
It is a blessing.
Like the first stroke, there were no words, and there words now.
It's going to be an uphill climb, but there will be some kind of sense of what ticks in my brain.
The speech therapist will help me, and she already does.
It is a blessing.
Like the first stroke, there have been friends...
Friends who have been there, good friends, praying friends.

They are a blessing.

Some friends have suffered with illness, older and younger.
They inspire me to go on with this journey I must face.

I admire them for going on with their journeys. I pray for their speedy recovery.
It is a blessing.
I have my family. 
Like the first stroke, they came to me.
They are mine. I am theirs.
No words. Just love.
It is a blessing.

A new year of plentiful miracles and blessings to all, 

and no nightmares and no little mistakes...