Chapter 7: Family

I can’t mention enough all the love and support I received from friends and family. It was awesome and very humbling. Thank you, thank you!

I have learned during this journey, that my stroke was a huge adjustment and challenge for the whole family. This is not just my trial.

So many people reached out to me, asking me how I’m doing. But, I think we often forget the loved ones who are coping with this “whammy” in their lives too.

I was not myself for a long time. I’m still trying to “find” Cathy in many aspects of my life. And I’ve come to accept that some things will never be the same.

As I mentioned previously, a stroke is not just about physical damage; it’s also emotional and memory damage. This affected the way I interact with people. For many months, I was really mentally disconnected from my life, my family, and my emotions. My only real emotional response was crying. I either cried or was almost emotion-less.

Honestly, the crying is an improvement of sorts. If you know me well, you know I am a worrier. Larry calls me a professional worrier. After the stroke, I didn’t worry…about anything. I remembered enough about me that I knew that I should care about some things, but I really didn’t.

Dinner for the family? Laundry? Dishes? Homework? House cleaning? Emotional support for my husband and boys? Someone will take care of all of it. Or nobody will. These responsibilities that were my life a few days ago, were no longer there for me. All of these things just didn’t even occur to me.

Looking back it sounds so cold! How could I have been so selfish? It didn’t feel that way at the time though. I felt like I was watching the world through the wrong end of a telescope and was completely disconnected. It was all happening “out there” and wasn’t really part of my life.

Needless to say this was a hard adjustment for all of us. I scared everyone with my near-death experience. And now mom/Cathy is back, but not the mom/Cathy they knew.

Tiffany asked her Dad when do we get our mom back? Sometimes Larry still wonders out loud if I’ll ever fully return. Honestly, I wonder too.

Larry later compared dealing with a stroke to the stages of mourning. We’re long past denial now, mostly into the acceptance phase, but sometimes a little frustration still pops up in our lives. We miss what we’ve lost.

When I first had my stroke, Larry was scared and stressed. Then, he was so caring and by my side 24/7. As my physical drooping and speech disappeared quickly, he hoped that the rest would heal quickly too. Larry soon went into fix-it mode. He was my cheerleader and great supporter as I went through therapy.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a quick fix. And his support often felt like pressure to me and I would get frustrated and, yes you guessed it, cry. He in turn felt like I wasn’t trying enough. We had to turn to the therapists and the psychologist often for counsel. Often it was not what he wanted OR what I felt, but a little bit of both.

Larry’s need to get it fixed ASAP is gone. I feel like we are a team working through all these challenges together. We both want me to continue to heal; but we both realize what we thought was healing (all better) and what is actually healing (steadily moving forward) is a better fit for dealing with a stroke. We still have our bumps, but that’s life; what couple doesn’t?

I appreciate those who reached out to Larry, who asked how he was doing. Sometimes I wonder whether he or I experienced the deepest loss. We have always been very close, affectionate, best friends as well as companions in raising a family.

Since the stroke I find it difficult to be as affectionate—I just don’t “feel” the way I used to feel. I don’t want to do many of the things Larry and I used to do together—crowds, noises, risks, feelings make me cry. He isn’t sure who he will find when he returns home from work every day now—a fragile, crying woman, a disconnected woman, or a wife who is happy to see him return. It changes from day to day. I need more from Larry than ever before in our lives and I probably return less. We’re still struggling to find our footing in this changed life.

Larry read this before I posted it and wanted me to add that there are also tender mercies in all we’ve been through. We’ve discovered how much love and support we have. We’ve discovered even greater depth in our commitment to each other. And Larry says I’ve become kinder, more thoughtful and more patient. He says I’m more beautiful too but I think he’s been fibbing about that for years.

Thank you, hubby. I do love you more than I can say.

I now see people’s struggles and illnesses as family challenges. We all struggle together, and we all grow together. Thank goodness for families. And family…Thank you for your patience.