I've had a chance to reflect on how far I've; mentally, physically and emotionally progressed..
From just being able to balance on a toilet to have a piss..
To learning how to shower and even learn how to cope with being surrounded by elders, one woman who was in my old 'section' on the stroke ward, who horribly but only because at times it was quite funny me and mum would laugh at;
All day & night; 'ARTHUR WHERE ARE YOU'
Calling for her husband who had actually died a few years before..
To the point where she tried to walk to him and just fell out of bed..
I actually feel horrible laughing but it was the only thing keeping my spirits up.
My scrapbook is building my memory and physically reminding me how life can change; some pages have tear drops from how much it's bringing back.. And remembering how unstable I was; how many machines were attatched to me keeping me alive.
Sounds stupid but it's like a diary, no one will understand unless they read it; everything I felt, saw and cried over are in this book..
If I had a child I don't know if I'd even show them..
I'd just protect them from having a stroke.
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