Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: ischemic stroke

A stroke of good luck

I became aware of the interview John Fetterman (running for US senate in Pennsylvania against Dr. Oz) gave to NBC. I read about it in Slate before actually watching the interview. What I learned from the article was that he had a stroke in May. He’s back and says that he can still serve. He is saying that the disability is temporary and he will be back to normal one day.

Let’s put aside the latter sentiment for a minute. Let’s start with the interview, which I watched once I was at my laptop. From the start, I was put off because the interviewer for NBC noted that things were very different, that he was using closed caption, etc. Why did she need to note that? I mean, I have to wear glasses when I read, but that’s not noted every time I talk.

I’m not going to go hard on her for mentioning accommodations or the fact that he had a stroke.  By the way, I’m having to rewatch the interview as I type this because I don’t remember everything in detail, even though I watched it an hour ago or so. That’s one of my issues with my ischemic stroke (not sure what kind he had), by the way. My short-term memory isn’t as good as it used to be.

I want to talk about that for a minute. I had a phenomenal memory before my medical crisis. I could remember long conversations and videos I had seen in detail. I never forgot a name, no matter how long it had been since I saw someone. Now, however, it’s different.

I can still retain information I read/see, but sometimes I have to refresh my memory before getting the full recall. I don’t remember people’s names immediately the way I once did, and sometimes, I have trouble recalling who I told what to. I have forgotten words now and again, so when Fetterman said empathetic, paused and said, emphatic and could not be sure which he meant, I related to that.


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The little things

Yesterday, my brother came to drive me to my echocardiogram appointment. Except, there was no appointment made, apparently. We got there and they said they had no record of it. My brother and I went to get burgers at Culver’s instead, which was so good. Even with no butter (They invented the ButterBurger) and a gluten-free bun, it was juicy and so meaty (got the double). I learned that you can get a triple or more if you ask, but that would be just way too much meat. Even a double was plenty for me.

I promised my brother that the heart center DID call me. He believed me because I immediately emailed him after to ask for a ride. He figured out that the person probably jotted it down on the wrong client’s page–and I remembered that she did have computer problems while we were talking. So, yes, either wrongly noted it or it didn’t take at all. Plus, as I was messaging Ian to tell him I had an appointment, he asked how long it’d been. It had been ten months, so I was surprised that they hadn’t waited for a year. That’s when we scheduled it for while I was there–they wanted it to be a year.

It got me thinking about driving. I haven’t driving much since I got out of the hospital. To be fair, I didn’t drive much before because of the pandemic and because of my shitty immune system. The last time I went out before I landed in the hospital, I went to Target. I am convinced that’s where I got the walking non-COVID-related pneumonia, even though it wasn’t in the week of when I got it. I just Googled it. The symptoms do not show up for two weeks at least. So it was probably there. It doesn’t make a tangible difference, obviously, but it’s a relief. I had been racking my mind, trying to figure out where I got it (back then).

Let me set the background. I have a shitty immune system. I’m not immunocompromised, at least as far as I know. But I do have a shitty immune system, which is how I always phrase it. In the before times, I got bronchial-related illnesses two to three times a year. My doctor said I had the lungs of a seventy year old. I smoked two to three cigarettes a day (not two to three packs) slowly throughout the day. I smoked half a cig when I got up, then a quarter cig several times during the day. I never wanted a whole cigarette (except when I went out with K. It was our thing), but I liked the little kick that a few puffs gave to me. My favorite doc told me it wasn’t a big deal or something to worry about when I mentioned it to her. When I asked why doctors were so strident about smoking, she said because if they told people they could smoke a few cigarettes a day, their patients would take it to mean they could smoke six packs a day. Which, fair.


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