Arriving Home

Now a Stroke Survivor I was on the way home having spent a little over forty hours in hospital.

Friends from the village picked me at about 6:30 pm. The journey home was a strange affair: I kept being asked how I was feeling and to be honest I had no idea. On a basic level I was still able to walk and talk so could be described as OK. But on the other hand everything had changed and somehow I felt anything but! The friends asked if Kate was home. I had no idea. I knew she was picking up the step-daughter but as to whether or not they had arrived home? Pulling up outside our house the answer became clear.

Thanking our friends I entered the darkness of the kitchen to be greeted by the dog, Bruce. Normally I turn off unnecessary lights but this time I wanted lights and heating on. Even though I had not eaten all day I was not hungry, but definitely in need of a shower. Feeling refreshed I settled down, with Bruce, to await my family’s return, which happened at a little after 21:00 having stopped to pick up a Chinese Take-away which the step-daughter had been “dreaming of” while in the Alps. After hugs all round, questions about how I was feeling and turning down a plate of Chinese I headed for bed at about 21:30.

The next morning, 1^st February, was the one when Andy Murray lost to Novak Djokovic in the Australian Open final. We woke early to watch the match, but to be fair I had hardly slept. Within minutes Kate had the bag of meds and the Apple laptop out, wanting to investigate each drug and define how and when I should be taking them. All I wanted was to quietly watch the tennis and see what the day brought. She being the sort of person who needs things sorted, and I’m sure worried and confused, it did not go down well when I suggested that there would be plenty of time to do the meds thing later. She could not leave it, even after the appearance of the step-daughter, so in the end I went to watch the game in the extension. Within moments I had first the step-daughter and then both of them standing over me telling me I was being unfair, they were worried and so I should just do as I was told. We eventually did watch the game but with a tension you could almost touch. Once Murray had lost, Katw and I headed into the County Town, to buy a blood pressure monitor which I used for the first time at 3 o’clock (207/121) and again at 18:00 (204/111) when I also took my meds, setting a pattern that continues to this day.

On Monday, I rose at about 8:00 am, having been awake since five. The partner and step-daughter were talking in her room with the door open. I called out “Good morning” but got not a peep in reply. I took my blood pressure (183/111) before my partner appeared in the kitchen. I could not stop myself asking her why they had ignored me. She tried telling me that they had not seen me. At that moment the step-daughter entered and when I said, “Good morning” again she got herself a drink and headed back upstairs without a word. I asked my partner what was going on and was told that neither of them knew what to say. I was stunned! When I pointed out that, “Good morning” or even “How are you?” would have been a good start all I got in response was anger.  Again I was shocked. Surely they had discussed the stroke, and what to do and say, during the journey from the airport. But apparently not! I was completely floored and pointed out that if they were having difficulties what did they think it was like for me.

After the mess of the morning we agreed that lunch in town was in order. I was ready first and waited, not particularly patiently. When they eventually appeared their foul moods were obvious. Leaving the house I realised I had forgotten my gloves and went back for them but when I got to the car the two women where in the middle of a full blown slanging match. There was no way I was going to engage with that so went for a walk round the village. Twenty minutes later a crying step-daughter came to find me and we spent ten minutes talking, during which she admitted to finding it hard and having no idea what to say. My response was that whatever she was feeling I had the same doubts, worries and questions, if not more, and that the only way through this was to talk and take care of each other, all of us. We eventually made it into town and had a pleasant lunch. I took my BP when we arrived home at about three (207/118) and again at around six (186/112) with my meds and finally at ten o’clock (198/117) just before going to bed.

On the 3^rd, I woke at 4 am but finally got up just before six, setting a precedent for the coming weeks and months, eventually taking my BP at 8 o’clock (176/104). The day was much quieter than any so far. In the late morning I received a call from the daughter of a friend, who had died some years before. She had seen my Facebook post and was calling to see how I was. I have known her for all but one day of her life. My partner overheard the conversation and later I got into trouble for expressing things I had not yet told the step-daughter. My partner’s anger was not particularly ameliorated when I tried to explain that I had only been answering questions not previously asked. I probably should not have added that our friend’s daughter had an empathy due to her having lost her mother at a young age and being diagnosed with epilepsy.

I took my BP a further three times: at 3 o’clock (170/97); at 6:30 (197/111) and at 22:00 hours (197/106).

Wednesday was the day the step-daughter went back to her ski season. I woke early, got up and tried to write. The taking of my blood pressure was fast becoming a bit ritualistic and settled into a pattern of four measurements a day.

Eight in the morning (190/112)

Lunch time normally at 1 o’clock (178/102)

Tea or dinner time at 6 pm (187/109)

Then prior to bed at 22:00 hours (191/104)