One of the abilities I lost after my stroke was taking a shower by myself. It is ironic, but taking a shower is one of the private activities I enjoy a lot. For the first several months, I had my wife help me take a shower. I always wanted to regain the ability to shower, so I determined to train myself.
It took longer than I would have liked. When you get severe brain trauma, you will forget how to move your limbs. You suddenly feel like you are in a body that I have no control over. I had to be patient about it; it would be dangerous if I started to take my shower without being in control of my ability to move. Slowly, I started to regain mobility.
When I tried to take a shower, I noticed that some of my overcalculated versions of impulsive tendencies due to stroke started to creep into many of my behaviors. In other words, some of these behaviors suddenly overwrite my activities. I need to remember to do some clearing. I quickly realized that I have to be systematic with my activities to control my impulsive tendencies.
How can I overcome this challenge? I decided to use exactly the same method to control my other impulsive tendencies. I used a method very similar to how I trained myself to remember to do many things. I do a series of rituals in the shower. I must remember normal things are not normal for me.
When I realized and contemplated what I thought was normal, I gained the habit of anticipating what would happen throughout the day and deciding how I wished to respond. Believe me, when you don’t have your body’s normal movement, there are many anticipated events. I think about it a lot while I am showering.
Some people may say it is a mental simulation. My wife will say disaster or risk management, and I say that is my normal life. In some ways, my reaction was still impulsive when an anticipated event occurred, but it was at least one more in line with how I had previously decided was preferable. There were also times when my planned response was different from what I should have wished to do. Yet, I find myself with the planned response taking the place of the impulsive reaction.
From a young age, I’ve battled with an impulsive streak. Ideas would hardly settle in my mind before I found myself acting on them. This trait often landed me in hot water, especially during my school days. I recall sitting in class, deeming the lecture both dull and incorrect, and voicing my disagreement without a moment’s hesitation. Over time, I learned to curb these impulses, training myself to pause and make conscious choices before reacting. Although perfection eluded me, I gradually gained a semblance of control over my actions, a victory in its own right.
However, this hard-earned self-control was one of the casualties of my stroke. Suddenly, I found myself grappling anew with my old impulsivity, which made itself known in ways both frustrating and perilous, particularly during my initial stay at a care center. A typical example was my frequent, middle-of-the-night awakenings with an urgent need for bathroom use. Under normal circumstances, this would be a straightforward, albeit annoying, situation. However, in my post-stroke weakened state, these moments became fraught with danger.
I vividly remember one such instance when, on the immediate impulse to get out of bed, I sprawled on the floor. The loud buzzing of an alarm followed, signaling a nurse to my unintended distress call. After triggering the bed’s alarm system, I faced a stern reprimand. I was instructed to press a call button and wait for assistance instead of attempting to rise. Despite this clear directive, the impulse to get up before remembering to press the button happened repeatedly, each incident a stark reminder of my diminished control.
As the frequency of these accidents increased, my wife and mother alternated nights by my side, vigilantly ensuring that I didn’t fall out of bed. This period of intense vulnerability was humbling and highlighted the extent to which my stroke had stripped away the coping mechanisms I had painstakingly developed over the years. Alongside the resurgence of impulsivity, I discovered a heightened distractibility that made concentration a formidable challenge.
Reflecting on these experiences, I recognize that the journey of recovery and adaptation is as much about relearning and restructuring old strategies as it is about physical rehabilitation. The process is slow and often discouraging, but it is also filled with moments of profound learning and personal insight. Regaining control over my impulsivity hasn’t just been about preventing physical falls; it’s been crucial in reestablishing a sense of agency and self-assurance shaken by my stroke.
In sharing my story, I hope to offer solace and understanding to those navigating similar challenges. Whether it’s due to a stroke or another life-altering event, the path to reclaiming bits of oneself can be arduous and steep. Yet, with perseverance and support, gradual progress is possible. It’s a testament to the human spirit’s resilience and adaptability to unforeseen changes.
Yesterday was a successful day in my ongoing battle against the ever-growing grass in my yard. As I pushed the mower back and forth under the sweltering sun, I made it a point to keep myself well-hydrated—a critical practice not just for my general health but particularly vital due to my kidney issues.
Hydration is essential for everyone, healthy or otherwise, but it becomes even more crucial when managing kidney dysfunction. While at a rehabilitation center, healthcare professionals emphasized the importance of drinking at least 2 liters of water daily. The kidneys play a pivotal role in filtering our blood and producing urine. Dehydration can lead to a higher concentration of minerals in your urine, which can crystallize and pose risks to kidney health. Ensuring adequate fluid intake helps the kidneys efficiently remove waste from the body.
Living in Nashville, where summer temperatures often soar above 95°F (35°C), staying active outdoors requires strategic planning, especially given my health condition. Whether running my regular routes or tending to my garden, I pause every 30 minutes to drink water. Although slightly disruptive, hydration breaks are non-negotiable for someone with kidney issues like mine. It takes a moment to muster the energy to continue my task each time, but maintaining optimal hydration levels is a top priority.
Despite the challenges, my kidney dysfunction doesn’t deter me from enjoying and engaging in outdoor activities. It’s all about adapting and finding ways to manage my condition while still living actively. This balance is crucial not only for my physical health but also for my mental well-being. Staying active and outdoors keeps me invigorated and connected to the world around me.
In conclusion, managing kidney health doesn’t mean you have to give up your active lifestyle. With the proper precautions, like regular hydration breaks, anyone can continue enjoying the benefits of outdoor activities. It’s about listening to your body, understanding its needs, and adjusting to support your health. This means venturing too far with a water bottle in hand and always planning for necessary pauses that allow me to stay hydrated and healthy.
I’ve faced some real challenges with my exercise progress recently. After returning from Florida, I haven’t managed to up the weight in my curls.
I tire out quickly, and it’s taking me longer to bounce back from muscle soreness than it used to. The crux of the issue lies in muscle recovery. Given my compromised kidney function, I’m restricted to consuming just 35 grams of protein a day. There are times I wonder if my kidneys were healthier, could I increase my protein intake and, by extension, build more muscle? However, I’ve learned to work within my limits and maintain patience with my body’s pace.
Recognizing the importance of patience, I also realize the need for adaptation in my approach to fitness. Given my difficulties with muscle recovery, I’m contemplating introducing multiple weight-training sessions throughout the day. I’m considering adding a second set, perhaps before my evening meal. This idea has just been on my radar, primarily because I hadn’t found the right time or a consistent trigger for this addition to my routine.
Tomorrow marks the beginning of this new strategy. Following my usual run, I’ll get supper ready and shower. Then, I’ll perform a second set of weight training before I sit down to eat. This additional session is an experiment to see if increasing the frequency of my workouts can accelerate my progress.
Today, I lagged behind my usual routine due to an unexpected oversleep. Let me share how my day got off to a slower start. Exhaustion took hold of me last night, a remnant from hours spent mowing the lawn. It’s a taxing endeavor, especially when grappling with a compromised kidney function. Fatigue becomes a constant, unwelcome companion when your kidneys aren’t functioning optimally.
In my journey to recovery post-brainstroke, I’ve committed to regular exercise to boost my overall activity levels. This has indeed infused more energy into my days. Nevertheless, there are occasions when, despite a whole night’s rest, I feel unusually drained. Last night was such an instance. I went to bed on time, expecting sufficient sleep to recharge me.
I was awakened by my alarm this morning, ready to start the day. However, as I was about to rise, my wife initiated her post-run shower. My morning routine invariably begins with a bathroom visit, so I opted to wait for her to finish. Unfortunately, the coziness of my bed proved too seductive, and I drifted back to sleep.
This very scenario is why my occupational therapist has been adamant about the importance of maintaining a robust schedule and regular physical activity to strengthen my body’s endurance. It’s crucial for managing my health, particularly with my renal challenges.
Understanding the toll that kidney issues can take on energy levels, my wife is occasionally inclined to let me sleep a bit longer. To circumvent future disruptions, I plan to ask her to notify me when she’s done with her shower. Fortunately, today’s agenda is relatively relaxed, so this minor hiccup in my schedule should be manageable.
Moving forward, it’s clear that balancing my health needs with daily responsibilities will require some adjustments. It’s a manageable challenge that involves better communication and a little more planning. After all, maintaining a steady pace in life’s race can sometimes mean being flexible and adaptive to the unexpected.
Temperature plays a critical role in my daily life and physical activities due to my compromised ability to regulate body heat following a stroke. Living in Nashville, where temperatures can soar, has posed unique challenges to my running regimen. Initially, the heat negatively impacted my running pace, causing frustration and a temptation to make excuses for skipping my runs.
However, a recent drop in temperature has brought unexpected improvements to my running performance. I ran faster than my target pace yesterday and even set a new personal record for a 5K using a new running app. This clear indication of how much the weather affects my running was both surprising and encouraging.
Aside from my own physical activities, conversations at home often revolve around neuroscience, thanks to my wife’s passion for the subject. She recently reviewed a forthcoming book on the brain, seizing yet another opportunity to delve into a topic she loves. Our discussions often lead back to my own experiences, especially how keeping a running log helps maintain my motivation. Unlike the daily fluctuations, which can be disheartening, looking at monthly trends in my log shows a significant improvement in my speed, which is incredibly rewarding.
My wife’s admiration for my progress is a constant source of support. She marvels at how I’ve gone from being unable to walk ten years ago to completing 10K runs today. Her respect and encouragement play a massive role in my ongoing journey of recovery and perseverance.
Despite never using the hot weather as an excuse to avoid running, I acknowledge the internal battle against the temptation to give in on particularly sweltering days. These moments of weakness, where the voice in my head suggests it’s okay to stop, are challenging. However, staying vigilant and committed to my goals is crucial.
In conclusion, my journey through recovering thermocontrol and maintaining an active lifestyle post-stroke is filled with ups and downs, influenced heavily by external conditions like the weather. Yet, it’s also a testament to personal resilience and the importance of looking at the broader picture rather than getting bogged down by temporary setbacks. As I continue to run, each step is not just about pace or endurance but about overcoming the odds and pushing forward, no matter the temperature.
Yesterday, I managed to complete mowing the remainder of the yard. This endeavor took a considerable amount of time and energy. Afterward, I found myself overwhelmingly hungry. This intense hunger isn’t unusual after three hours of strenuous physical activity. Yet, the quantity of food required to satiate this hunger surprised me. My post-activity meal consisted of a generous bowl of spaghetti, four granola bars, and a cookie. Only then did I feel the edge of my hunger dull—not full, just no longer hungry. I learned this important distinction from my grandparents, who emphasized it as a practical approach to maintaining a healthy weight.
Given the intensity of my hunger yesterday, I half-expected the scales this morning to suggest that my weight had dropped alarmingly low. I intend to maintain my current weight, so I need to be more mindful. The thought made me frown a bit. To my mild surprise, the scale showed that I was only half a pound lighter than the previous day, which was already slightly below the lower end of my desired weight range. I felt better. I can manage that by eating marginally more.
I make it a practice to regularly monitor my weight to ensure I maintain a healthy balance. On days like yesterday, when my physical activity leads to a higher calorie output than intake, it’s natural to see a slight decline in weight. Additionally, we are vigilant about our salt intake due to my high blood pressure issues. Even though salty foods tend to increase water retention, impacting weight measurements, I allow for what I consider an acceptable daily fluctuation—about 10% over or under my target weight.
As I prepare for my morning run, I’m curious how my robust eating from yesterday will influence today’s weight measurement. It’s a delicate balance, managing food intake against physical activity and overall health, and it’s a journey that always keeps me engaged and attentive to my body’s needs.
Navigating through these challenges, I continue to learn more about my body’s responses and how best to maintain a stable and healthy weight while still enjoying the foods I love and the activities that keep me fit. This balancing act is not just about numbers on a scale; it’s about feeling good, staying healthy, and living life to the fullest.
The aftermath of my stroke brought with it numerous challenges, one of the most pronounced being my diminished ability to tolerate discomfort. This change has manifested most noticeably in my sensitivity to temperature fluctuations—I am perpetually feeling too hot or cold, often simultaneously. At first, this constant state of thermal discomfort was baffling. Can you fathom feeling both overheated and chilled at the exact moment? It seemed absurd.
After much reflection, I’ve realized that my stroke has fundamentally altered what I refer to as my “threshold of discomfort tolerance” for both extremes of temperature. Oddly enough, these sensations often overlap, adding an extra layer of complexity to my daily experiences.
Living in Nashville, where the weather can be pretty erratic—chilly mornings in the low 50Fs swiftly giving way to mild afternoons in the 70Fs—has not made things easier. Following my stroke, my body’s ability to adapt to external temperatures has significantly weakened. This inability to regulate my internal temperature plays a crucial role in influencing my physical activities, particularly running.
Running, like any form of exercise, inherently involves some discomfort, which is essential for gaining strength and improving cardiovascular health. However, every additional element of discomfort is magnified for someone facing a challenge like mine, where the body’s temperature regulation is compromised. Whether it’s excessive heat or cold, strong winds, or high humidity, each condition contributes to discomfort and reduces the threshold available for pushing my running speed.
Since controlling the weather is beyond my reach, I focus on managing what I can—like selecting appropriate running attire to mitigate the impact of these external conditions on my body. I suspect these issues stem from my autonomic nervous system, though I’m unsure how to address this directly. My approach now involves keeping mental notes and exploring potential strategies to cope more effectively with these challenges.
Embarking on a personal experiment, I initiated a meditation routine on April 17, 2024, marking my second attempt at incorporating meditation into my daily life. My previous endeavor was short-lived, plagued by impatience and a lack of observable benefits, which led me to prematurely abandon the practice. I have always struggled with activities that require stillness and patience, such as watching movies or simply sitting still, with my media consumption largely limited to YouTube.
Prompted by a burgeoning curiosity, I revisited meditation. The nagging thought of potentially missing out on significant benefits simply because I disliked remaining stationary was unsettling. Determined to explore the unknown possibilities of meditation, I decided to give it another earnest attempt.
Driven by widespread claims of meditation’s benefits, I set a 60-day goal for myself for this attempt, hypothesizing that a fixed timeframe might encourage persistence. I established parameters for tracking my progress, deciding to monitor my sleep quality, weight, heart rate, and daily meditation adherence via the Finch App.
As noted in my April 20 entry, I faced significant challenges in maintaining a consistent meditation practice early in the project. My grade school memories of enforced brief morning 3-minute meditation sessions, which were agonizing, seemed to haunt me. I had a habit of doing something when I was supposed to sit still and meditate, such as reading. Cunningly, I started to think about piano music in my head, which still got me in trouble on multiple occasions. My teacher often scolded me for not doing the meditation seriously back then.
As an adult, my problems from childhood persist. Thoughts, particularly daily tasks, intrusively disrupted my attempts at mental clarity. I had to get rid of the garbage of my thoughts. Data analysts often use the word GIGO (Garbage in, garbage out.) I decided to purge my thoughts before I started meditation. I strategized around this by scheduling meditation after morning journaling and daily planning, which improved my focus on physical sensations like body temperature and breathing patterns. However, I often struggled to sustain attention during the sessions, which typically lasted between 5 and 15 minutes in the mornings and 10 to 20 minutes at night.
Mondays proved particularly difficult due to early work commutes and abbreviated morning routines. In the bigging, I woke up at 5:15 am, 15 minutes earlier, to do all my morning routines, including this meditation. Now, I had difficulty concentrating because my time was too tight. On such days, I managed only five minutes of meditation in the morning, compensating with a slightly longer session in the evening.
Over time, I observed an interesting shift in my mental processes during meditation. Although I still doubted the correctness of my technique, I began to experience moments of detached awareness, where my frustrations and concerns appeared as if belonging to someone else, akin to watching a movie of my own thoughts. This experience may last for a few minutes – I think. I was too worried to get out of this experience, so I hesitated to open my eyes. This new perspective, emerging sporadically, was fascinating.
I saw some changes in my data, which I corrected over time. Physiologically, I noted a significant reduction in my average resting heart rate, a benefit possibly augmented by general weight loss, which I also monitored throughout the experiment. My relationship with food also transformed; meditation diminished my cravings, particularly emotional eating, which I had abstained entirely from since starting the practice. This change, coupled with increased exercise and meticulous dietary logging, contributed to a weight loss of 5 pounds in May. However, the hot weather also played a role in this by increasing water loss.
Regarding my sleep, while my overall sleep quality improved by 6 points in May, with a slight increase in REM sleep durations of 5 minutes, deep sleep remained elusive. I have way too much REM sleep and less deep sleep, according to my sleep log, than I would like. So, I aspired to more deep sleep, believing it to be crucial for my well-being.
Reflecting on the potential health benefits of meditation, I turned to authoritative sources like the Harvard Medical School website, which confirmed that consistent practice could significantly lower heart rate, blood pressure, and stress levels, provided the sessions lasted at least ten minutes (Meditation Offers Significant Heart Benefits, 2023). My meditation routine, particularly the evening sessions, aligned with these recommendations, potentially explaining some of the physiological improvements I observed.
Contrary to my physical health gains, my sleep quality saw only marginal improvements; my result was inconsistent with some academic findings, such as those by Rush et al. (2019), which questioned the impact of meditation on sleep after analyzing metadata consisting of 3,303 total records and 18 trials from 1654 participants. Their research suggested that while some immediate benefits might be noticeable, they could not see the effect on sleep quality from mindful meditation intervention (p.7).
As my 60-day trial concludes in 10 days, I remained committed to continuing meditation beyond this initial period. Despite the challenges and ongoing uncertainties about the ‘correctness’ of my technique, the general sense of well-being it imparts is undeniable. Moreover, having not missed a single day of meditation throughout the trial is a personal achievement that motivates me to maintain and refine my practice.
In summary, while the empirical benefits of meditation, particularly concerning sleep quality, remain a topic of some debate, the personal gains in terms of stress management, heart health, and overall well-being are compelling. As I look forward to continuing my meditation journey, I am curious and hopeful about the deeper insights and health benefits a sustained practice might unlock.
Rusch, H. L., Rosario, M., Levison, L. M., Olivera, A., Livingston, W. S., Wu, T., & Gill, J. M. (2019). The effect of mindfulness meditation on sleep quality: A systematic review and meta-analysis of randomized controlled trials. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1445(1), 5–16. https://doi.org/10.1111/nyas.13996
Last evening unfolded with a most unusual occurrence. As usual, I retired for the night at our standard bedtime. The evening routine was methodical, almost mechanical, in its execution—a necessary ritual since the stroke that urged a restructuring of my daily habits. But at 2:00 AM, I awoke to find myself standing in our bathroom, bewildered and piecing together fragments of memory that suggested I had been elsewhere in the house mere moments ago.
The sensation was disorienting. Had I neglected my bedtime rituals? The usual checklist ran through my mind in a haze. Did I remember to brush my teeth? A rush of confusion overwhelmed me as though a veil had been draped over my memories. Soon, a small but significant discovery alleviated one of my concerns: I was wearing my mouthguard. This small cue hinted at the likelihood that I had completed at least part of my nightly regimen.
This practice of linking tasks, a method instilled by my occupational therapist post-stroke, has been a lifeline. It involves a simple chain of nighttime preparations: laying out sleepwear, setting aside clothes for the following day, brushing teeth, and finally, the mouthguard. Each step is meticulously planned to ensure everything is remembered.
However, the mystery deepened as I questioned whether I had managed other essential evening tasks. Had I taken my medication? Was the programmable coffee pot set for the morning? Driven by a need for reassurance, I checked both. They were in order, to my relief, yet this brought little comfort against the nagging confusion that clouded my mind.
In my semi-awake state, I grappled with two possibilities. First, I had been sleepwalking, wandering about the house in a nocturnal haze until a flicker of awareness returned in the bathroom. The alternative was perhaps even more bizarre—a vivid dream in which I moved through familiar spaces in our home, only to awaken when I reached the bathroom.
Each theory seemed plausible yet left much unexplained. As I slipped back into bed, careful not to disturb my sleeping wife, the strangeness of the night’s events hung heavily in the air. The experience was perplexing, to say the least. I lay there, a mix of concern and curiosity stirring within, pondering the depths of the human mind and its mysterious workings during the hours meant for rest.
Regardless of the proper explanation, the event poignantly reminded me of the complexities introduced by my health condition. The mechanisms I had put in place to safeguard against forgetfulness had held up. Yet, the unexpected venture into the night showed that surprises lurk even in well-planned routines.
As dawn approached, with the first hints of morning light filtering through our curtains, I found solace in the normalcy that daylight brought. Yet, the night’s journey left a lasting impression, a reminder of the delicate balance we maintain as we navigate the challenges that life and health cast in our path.
