When I hear the sound of my one true love, Anne Marie, and our daughter (wasn’t she away at school?) call to me, my chest lunges from the crinkled mattress beneath my back on the gurney? The Hospital bed? In the ambulance? ICU? OPC? “I’m here. I don’t know if these words actually left my lips but I sure remember thinking: “I’m here I’m not leaving. I’m staying. I won’t go. I want to stay with you.” “Where are you?” If I just close my eyes,…

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This journal is culled from notes I took in the wake of my stroke on March 13, 2010 while my mind and body healed themselves for eighty days in a prominent Philadelphia rehabilitation center. Blame it on my congenital impulsivity, or accuse this devil of a stroke or maybe those two neurosurgeries as the culprits. Be that as it may, I am guilty of…

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My family history includes a serious connection to strokes. My Grandfather on my Dad's side died after having 9 strokes. I remember him as a strong tall man with huge hands and a soft heart with us girls (granddaughters).



He was 6'4" and had the hands of a giant. He was an avid Ukulele player which ended when he had his third stroke. I remember how I was the only one of the girls he would allow to feed him. He stayed angry, aggravated, frustrated, and yet determined to recover. The… Continue

Too many Black Centipedes 2day. Will blog 2morrow! wish me luck in the fray!