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Centipede and Bumble Bee/ Life After Stroke
To give a description of life after stroke to people who did not suffer one, two creatures of the animal world come to mind.
Centipede. Deep in the jungles of India a Centipede busily crawled among tree roots and dead leaves. A Crow, resting on a branch high above, called down:¨”Oh, how I admire you, controlling all those hundred legs! But please tell me: Do you lift your 46th left leg before or after your 22nd right leg?” -- “Aah, hmm” said the
Centipede, “just a moment!”. But then the Centipede could not lift a leg, as much as it concentrated to do. So the
Crow swooped down and ate the Centipede.
Even years after Stroke the Centipede within me still has difficulty in moving the affected leg properly - (bend and lift knee, bend hip - drat, drat, drat, forgot it again!!).
Bumble Bee. According to the laws of Avionics (airplanes are made to fly by them), the
Bumble Bee, because of size, weight, and wing structure cannot possibly fly.
But as Bumble Bees have no idea about Avionics, they fly happily around every day.
Now my story: On the morning of Christmas Eve 1993 I woke up with an alien leg in my bed, instead of my left lower limb. Soon my left arm went out of order too.
In hospital, doctors told my family, that if even if I lived thru the next days after massive brain bleeding, I would be confined to a wheelchair forever.
But me and Physical Therapist Irene Gilligan proved those doctors wrong.
During weeks of training, and at last being chased up and down the emergency staircase of a Rehab Clinic, the
Bumble Bee within me awoke.
After three months of hospital and rehab I went back to work at Lufthansa German Airlines. The industry was in a downswing, so they wanted to lay me off together with all other employees aged 57, or older. German law forbids to lay off disabled people, so I haggled about indemnity to last me better thru three years until retirement age of 60, grabbed the money, and hobbled home, taking with me my air travel privileges.
But having nothing to do, (besides training with a local therapist), is not my idea of life in retirement. A leading German Neurologist, Professor Kaps, talked me into helping to establish two
Self Support Groups or Stroke Clubs in Northern Germany. Later I founded a
Stroke Club newspaper and was invited to join the Scientific Council of German Stroke
Foundation, there representing Self Support.
Air travels brought me to Mexico (Architects, planning unneccessary stairs, without handrails at hotels, should be shot), to the
Sahara of North Africa, and to Maramuresch in Romania at the Ukrainian border, northeast of
Transsylvania (where even Count Dracula does not dare venture). Accompanied by a Romanian Stroker and his family I had memorable days, living in a farm house and experiencing Christian Orthodox Easter in that remote corner of Europe.
Twelve years after stroke, the Crow swooped down on me, trying to eat both my
Centipede and my Bumble Bee. The scar of the brain bleeding shifted and caused Epilepsy.
Luckily I now get only nearly daily panic attacks, and slight cramps of the affected arm – no falling to the floor, no writhing around, nor pain. The
Crow was chased away, but my interest in travels has dwindled since. It is just so, that the
Bumble Bee still needs some flying around.
So in 2005 I followed an invitation by the famous After Stroke Center in Glendora,
California, to deliver a speech about Stroke Clubs over here in Germany. To keep the speech not too boring, I laced it with Stroke Jokes from my collection. I was accompanied by my younger daughter and youngest granddaughter, and lived at the wonderful home of Debe Gonsalves, Director of the Center.
In 2006 I again hopped over the Great Pond to Savannah in Georgia, accompanied by my older daughter and family. My younger daughter and family where relocated by the US Army from Germany to that nice Southern city. There I lived at Buckingham
South, a fine home for Retirement and (even short time) Assisted Living.
Often the families went to Hilton Head and Tybee Island, taking me with them.
My son-in-law took me around military facilities. I even could admire a booty from WW II, the first and since then only rocket fighter plane:
Messerschmidt 262.
The greatest danger to have an accident, lurks not while flying or driving, or crossing streets, but at home sweet home, as statistics prove. Our house is a mix of old (1934) and new (1957), with some steps between the two parts. Here now finally handles were necessary to make the passage safer, after I did two nasty falls. So one day a young German-Russian carpenter appeared with two handles, really nice and antique looking, and attached them immediately to the required spots.
Later I found out, that those were First Class coffin handles, which had to be removed before cremation.
But so what: Better I get safely around the house using coffin handles, than being the inmate of a coffin after a fatal crash landing at home.
My collection of Stroke Jokes is growing. Besides my own, I got some from the former press agent of actor Kirk Douglas, some from members of Stroke Survivors International.
If we think we have nothing to laugh about, let’s laugh about ourselves.
Sorry, the collection is in German language, so it is useless to attach it, but here is an example:
The owner of a citrus plantation in Florida has two years after stroke bought himself a new wheelchair with broad wheels and electric motor running on a battery. So he now can drive around his grounds.
On one day he plans to visit the bathing lake in a faraway corner, where he, long years ago, installed a jumping tower and a slide for his family. Coming to the lake, he finds girls from the nearby college enjoying his lake, totally naked. Seeing him come, they flee into deep water and shriek: “Go away!! P### off!!”. He answers: “ First: This is my lake! Second: I am not here for peeping. I am just going to feed the alligator.”
Romanian Geese
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Catedral de Mexico
Dracula's Castle
Buckingham South
Inside Buckingham South
Click above picture to see a video with
orig. sound.
Coffin Coffee Table
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