It’s been nearly 7 years now. When will the startling “firsts” and painful reminders stop catching us by surprise?
We attended a wedding on Saturday. The couple met just weeks before I stroked. My mind had the hardest time reconciling between their reality of the past almost seven years, and ours!
I cleaned my husband’s dresser yesterday. Not only did I find my old medication list and dosage schedule from the rehab hospital, but I also found something that really took me for an unexpected turn.
I gathered a few pair of glasses, my husband’s old prescriptions and some sun glasses, and put them together in a basket. When I showed him one of the two cases I had put with them, I commented that the soft case had a pair of glasses inside.
“That’s weird,” he replied, unzipping the pouch.
We both froze as he pulled out the pair of glasses I had worn to the chiropractor on the morning of October 25, 2011.
Until that moment, neither of us had thought any more of the hospital’s name emblazoned on that little black caddy, than as advertising swag. As if on fire, the case instantly burned our minds and hearts with the realization that the hospital had placed my glasses in that case when the ambulance deposited me in the emergency room.
Just last week I had wondered what ever happened to those glasses. Little did I know that I slept within eight feet of their resting place each night!
No, the prescription no longer offers me any benefit. Yes, it was time for new glasses anyway. These frames are still in great shape (after all, they have been well persevered in a dark, padded bag for nearly seven years!), and since they were fairly new when I entered the hospital, I think I’ll take them to my eye exam and try to get new lenses in them.
On the topic of stroke reality, here’s my pretty foot after a little boy dropped a soda can on it over a week ago.
Yes, a soda can.
I don’t have proper circulation anymore. Blood likes to pool in my stroked foot.