Past Tense

 Hello dear readers!

You join me today in a reflective mood, as I think about a couple of rather significant anniversaries.

Yes, there will shortly be reasons to celebrate. In just under four weeks myself and my increasingly wonderful wife, Tina, will have been married a whole five years. I know, right, five years! The time has flown by, and for me at least, and I’m sure for the people that have known us that long, that figure just doesn’t seem quite right... but it is.

Those years have, on the whole been wonderful, filled with laughter and joy, but there has been the odd little misadventure too, and herein lies the tale of that other anniversary.

A Terrible Place To Visit
It is a year, almost down to the day, since my wife had a functional stroke. You can read about that little (mis)adventure here.

Those were dark days as, you can probably tell. Scary, emotional, overwhelming days. It is with an almost complete lack of love that I remember the daily (often twice daily) thirteen mile journey to Pinderfields hospital. This is not to say that I resented having to do it, of course not. The hospital, after all, held someone particularly precious to me and it was not just my duty but also my honour to be responsible for her.

Luckily I was not alone in my duty of care. We are very lucky to have an excellent support network and both friends and family were quick to rally round and provide us with the help and support we both needed in that particularly trying time.

Bad Times

Looking back we, or perhaps more accurately, I should have taken advantage of that support network a little more. I don’t like admitting to weakness though, and can actually get quite pig-headed about it (I know, unbelievable isn’t it). The more important something is to me the more this unfortunate tendency can come to the fore. This was most definitely the case in regard to looking after my wife and sadly it did not come without a cost.

I still find the mental and emotional cost of that time difficult to write about, so I’m just going to add a link to what I wrote at the time. This can be found here. It is not something that I would care to repeat in a hurry.

Of course, this, although a personal blog, is by no means all about me, and it is important to remember that whilst I was having a difficult time of things there was someone else who was going through horrendous and potentially life changing events herself. A person who’s frustration at being stuck in a hospital bed was growing on a daily, if not hourly basis. That person was, of course, Tina.

The Bells!

I wouldn’t have been too surprised if I’d turned up one visiting hour, to find that Tina had managed to sneak out in a laundry basket or by impersonating a nurse, such was her desperation to get home. When the stroke was diagnosed as a functional stroke, rather than one that was caused by a bleed in the brain, the medical conversation turned from management to treatment, and Tina was subjected to the tender mercies of the physiotherapists. Having been told that if her walking showed significant signs of improvement from the Quasimodo-like leg drag it had become she could go home, her determination to get from one end of a hospital corridor to the other was a wonder to behold.

The story didn’t end there and, even upon returning home, there were days if not weeks of frustration, tears, stress, depression, and not a small amount of pain, both physical and mental. There were positives too, probably not as many as you’d like and certainly not accruing as quickly as you’d hope but they were most definitely there. The moment, roughly five months after discharge when she got a steroid injection to free the nerve that had got trapped by walking in such an unconventional manner (and this is me talking!?), was beyond joyful for both of us. Almost overnight months of pain were made to disappear like tears in rain (to coin a phrase).

Life Lessons

They (they?) say that every setback in life teaches you a lesson and, personally, I know I learnt a lot in those dark days. I learnt that I can’t do everything myself. I learnt that asking for help can be the strongest thing you can do. I also learn that there is a marked difference between the magazines 'Woman' and 'Woman’s Own' and that taking the wrong one to a female patient’s bedside might well be greeted with great derision and will almost definitely never be forgotten. Even a year later.

Most of all though I’ve learnt that this marriage that has lasted nearly five years (so far), has lasted, and will last, for a reason. Myself and Tina are a team. We are far stronger together than we could ever be apart, and it's not even slightly close. In fact, if anything, the trials and tribulations of the last few years has shown us that as long as we have each other then there is nothing we cannot face.

And on that rather vomit-inducingly saccharine sentiment I shall bid you a fond adieu... Sorry.

Until next time...