Normal

Last Wednesday, I attended the stroke support group at RHI (where J.J. did his rehab and therapy), but J.J. was busy at work and couldn't get away. We had good attendance, including most of the regulars. But a few minutes before we got started, three women slipped into the chairs along the back wall. This is not a group that often gets new members, and I didn't recognize them, so I was mildly curious.

Group started, and our facilitator asked us to introduce ourselves. When we got to the women in the back, we learned that one was the survivor of a stroke in November 2009. The other two were her friends.

This survivor's grief at the changes that had taken place in her life since her stroke was so thick it was almost tangible. She choked out through sobs that she felt that everyone around her from her doctor to her children was pressuring her to get back to normal life as quickly as possible, but she couldn't fathom how she was going to go back to work or resume any of her other duties. "How did YOUR HUSBAND go back to work after six months?" she asked me accusingly. "All I can do is cry!"

We all took turns explaining that she will never go back to her old life. She has been changed by stroke. Life is not over, though--it is different. It is abnormal. But it is what you have, and it will become what you make it. I hope she believed me when I told her that there will come a day when the stroke is no longer the first thing you'll think of when you wake up every morning and the last thing you think of before you go to sleep every night. I don't think she did. I know I wouldn't have believed it just a few months ago.

Toward the end of the group, I was amazed to reflect on how quickly time has passed since the first support group meeting I attended, when I cried about the changes that had taken place in my life. I won't promise that I'll never cry again, but now the sadness is the exception rather than the rule.

Life goes on, even if "normal" doesn't.