7th. August: Getting up takes forever. Our solution to my balance problems is to bring one of the garden chairs into the shower. It takes up most of the space but works. I manage to wash and dry my hair (a hairdryer at last!). The garden chair is replaced the next day by a picnic box. We are nothing if not resourceful. Each step of the getting up process seems to require long intervals of staring out of the window. Is this what is meant by loss of motivation? I'll have to work on my 'bustle' if I'm going to get back to work any time soon
I pretend to be Virginia Wolf and 'sort the flowers' which have been rammed somewhat haphazardly into various vases. I salvage what I can and create two displays. Flower arranging was the only badge I got at Brownies although I may, on reflection, have also managed to pass parcel wrapping. Both skills have stood me in good stead and I wonder what other key life skills I might have acquired had I not wasted my energy annoying Brown Owl.
My daughter and partner arrive for the weekend and on Sunday we try 'going out' and visit the Botanic Garden for lunch. I manage a short walk with the support of an elbow and my stick. It's a beautiful day and the garden is busy with visitors looking at the sculptures but I don't take much in because I'm concentrating on managing. My walking is improving but I really want to know when my head will return to normal.
My first task on Monday morning (9th. August) is to look at my e-mails. I delete 30/36, most of them links to Facebook. I must have ticked a box which notifies me by e-mail when a friend has posted on Facebook but I find it annoying. I'll see those messages when I choose to look on Facebook.
My second task is to do some research on cerebellar haemorrhage. I have left hospital with no information on steps to aid recovery, what is normal and how to get help if I need it. The Stroke Association website is helpful but I learn that only 1/10 strokes are haemorrhagic and a small number of those occur in the cerebellum. What I read on other sites isn't encouraging. I get the impression I'm lucky to have survived. Perhaps there's not much information on recovery because not many people need it.
I telephone the secretary of the consultant who discharged me to see if there's any news from QMC. I'm still hanging on to the belief that something of importance might have been discovered on that last scan, the one that went in the post. She doesn't work on Mondays.
A friend comes for lunch and we walk to the shops. I feel vulnerable around traffic because it's hard to focus on too many things at once. If a car is doing anything unexpected, like parking on the pavement just ahead, I have to stop and wait until they've finished. The rest of the time I sleep.
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