Stroke Diary (13): Almost There

Monday 30th. August:
Are you sure you're ready to go back to work? I'm often asked this question but it's a hard one to answer. How would I know? Some days this week, my last week of sick leave before my planned return to work, I'm almost 'back to normal' on the outside. Inside, I still have a 'thick head', an experience I was frequently promised by my teachers in Scotland but until now I've been lucky enough to avoid.
On Wednesday morning I go to two libraries, searching unsuccessfully for the books I need for the next book group meeting. I visit Costa for a coffee and then a friend calls in for lunch.
On Friday morning I manage the city centre for the first time since the stroke. I park in John Lewis, walk to an appointment in Hotel Street, have a coffee and finish with a small wander in the Highcross shopping centre. And another friend comes for lunch.
I reason that if my mornings can be as busy as this, then I can manage a morning at work. But other days are different. I now seem to have a built-in monitor for 'over-doing it' when tiredness and headache get the better of me. On Saturday, I do almost nothing and it feels like one of the first days after my discharge from hospital. At night I'm still troubled by pains in the back of my head and I'm still munching paracetemol through the day. I do want to go back to work. The longer I'm away the more daunting it seems and I need several weeks to prepare a handover before I leave. I'll let the G.P have the final say next Monday.
I love Autumn. I like the clothes and the weather is often calm and mellow with just a small bite in the early mornings to let you know that winter's on its way. We have a beautiful early autumn week and teacher friends are beside themselves with rage at being back at work after the unfairness of our dark, sodden August. I take walks along the towpath, each time venturing further out past the mellow red brick of the Victorian canal bridges, noticing spiders' webs caught in the low sunshine and the leaves just turning into their ancient tapestry colours. Twice this week I walk with a friend to the Kings Lock Tea Room, only accessible from the towpath and have coffee in the garden that overlooks the water meadows. The wasps are a problem but we let them have some jam and they leave us alone. Somehow, the distant view of the sheds of Fosse Park, an out of town shopping centre and the dominance of the pylons shouldering Leicester's power into the city, makes this unexpected oasis seem even more remote.
In town I revel in the quiet of Leicester's back lanes, bathed in early morning sunshine, the children back at school and their parents still too exhausted to venture out. I'm the only customer in Cafe Mbriki and spend a relaxed forty five minutes with my coffee and a newspaper. Since the stroke, I've been reading a daily newspaper and many magazines and I've become aware of how many articles in the review sections are about the same people or event, with almost the same content. These are always linked to a book or a television programme. Clearly, publicists are doing a good job.
I manage to get a copy of J.G Ballards's Empire of the Sun, which we're reading for book group along with his second novel, The Drowned World. I find that one of the best things about being in a book group is having to read novels outside my circle of preferred authors. I'm only on page 77 but I'm not keen on his style. Because it's his own story, it has the reported feel of a diary with too much detail that would be of interest to a small boy but with an overlay of adult interpretation and awareness. I will persist, however as I'm forming ideas about the impact of war on the next generation, with reference to my own peer group, the much-criticised 'having it all' Baby Boomers.
So far I've made a good recovery due to normal healing processes but now I need to work specifically on my balance. It is much better, but I still have 'whoops' moments when I stand up suddenly or stop in mid-track. Thanks to a friend's generosity, I now have a gym ball to balance on while watching T.V. I'll report on progress.
I haven't managed to make a start back with my own novel and I wonder what that's about? Maybe next week, when I'm at work, motivation will kick back in. It's ridiculous but I feel too busy. My days are taken up with walks and visits, a sleep in the afternoon, some cooking and any old rubbish on T.V. (usually involving reconstruction of some sort: houses, faces, bodies). And this blog! Something will have to go.