Home At Last

I arrived home in New York last night. Of course, there's no going home again, things were naturally more different in me than in my apartment and neighbourhood, but it felt great to be sitting at home, chilling on my couch with some Lebanese salad, chatting with Bret, almost as if the last eleven months hadn't happened.

That's a danger: slipping back in to the same patterns of living that ended up with me having a stroke (by which I do not mean chatting to Bret). Given how stark the consequences are when I don't exercise, and how within a day or two, my motor control gets worse and I start to walk worse, and so on, I don't think that's going to happen.

Negotiating JFK was interesting, if awkward, given that my bag was horribly heavy (so much so that I wasn't able to get it all the way up the stairs; another one I owe Bret). 

The best part of it, from my perspective, was immigration. Since I was out of the country more than six months, I could be considered to have abandoned my residency, and they might have taken my Green Card away. Since it took me over nine years to gain residency and I have every intention of becoming a citizen when I can, this would have been a very bad thing.

I was prepared, though:  I had medical statements and similar documentation, including a stellar letter from my NHS physio, to show that I had good reason to be out of the country so long. If necessary I had them to hand for the border agent (a veteran of the WTC rescue mission), and my friendly lawyer took a break from evicting grannies to find out that if they did seize my Green Card, I could get it back.

The whole thing should have been very worrying, and I was certainly concerned; I had prepared all the paperwork, after all. But it didn't really ever bother me right up until the moment of truth. I managed, instead, to identify whatever happened at the border, given that I had done the prep, was outside my control and beyond my ability to influence further, and so there was no point worrying about it. So I didn't.

When it came to it, the officer was friendly and helpful, and didn't want to see any of the evidence I had to hand. I'm still a legal permanent resident, on the long road to citizenship.

Subsequently, it has occurred to me first that my facial palsy and walking stick are fairly big signs that are rather hard to fake. Second, that the facial palsy in particular provokes all sorts of assumptions. Most often, and most irritating, is the assumption that because my face is partially impaired, I must be stupid. I say that it is the most irritating, because it really does not thrill me to be thought stupid, but it's also, sometimes, to my advantage and when that's the case, I make the most of it.

I'm not saying that I hammed up being a dummy for the agent, nor that he thought I was mentally impaired (we talked, after all, about working for Google), but to be perceived as less threatening because of a disability is sometimes quite useful, and you had better believe I'm going to use it, because there's quite enough of everything else that got harder.

Anyway, it's almost 7am in New York. It's going to be a hot day, and I'm off to sort my gym membership out.

July Update - Planning My Return

Well, holy crap, it's been nine months since I had the first stroke, so it's that time again. Before the thrilling status update, though, some news or announcements or whatever.

First, I'm aiming to be back in New York early September. There will be some fun times with immigration (they're likely to take away my green card and then give it back), but I'll be back in the city about 11 months after having the stroke, and less than ten since leaving the US for this stage of my recovery.  There are a lot of things I miss about NYC, not least all of you all (in New York), which brings me to:

Second, save the date: 10/11/12 the first anniversary of my brain events is as good a time as any to have a party, especially since it's such a nice date. That's October 11th for you heathens with a sensible date format. More details to follow, as I make them up.

Third, it seems that NYC thinks I am disabled forever, presumably because of the whole brain damage thing. I'm not sure how I feel about that, because although I am currently quite evidently impaired, That's not going to last forever; just a really long time. I guess I don't sit as comfortably with the 'disabled' tag as I thought. On the other hand, I paid a shedload of tax so if there are benefits, I'm the queen for them. I'm also enrolled in Medicaid, which is a good thing for when I get home. No more Mr. Uninsured for me, as I'll be making sure i'm covered for the rest of time.

Finally, I've been thinking hard about what I want to do for the next forty years, and how to make it possible to sustain the level of physical activity I now need. I've come to the conclusion that retraining as a physical therapist (physio in English English) is the way forward, specializing in neurology wherever possible. This is going to be tough, because my two undergraduate degrees are largely useless (except for statistics), so I will almost certainly have to fill a bunch of undergraduate credits before I can apply for the DPT programs sensibly. That's not such a bad thing, since I couldn't in good conscience say that I'm physically capable of the work required today, but a year or two of being an undergraduate would give me even more time to recover. Paying for it all remains an open question.

So, on to the stroke recovery round-up. I'm getting stronger, my walking is better, my face shows positive signs, I'm certain my double vision is improving, the tremor has decreased slightly, but it's still a giant pain, and I'm in much better spirits. Acupuncture continues to be beneficial, as do Pilates and Tai Chi. Perversely, realizing that as of today I couldn't physically do a DPT degree has made me more determined than ever to be fit and strong enough and to have the motor control I will need.