I’ve always had a knack for tinkering with electronics. As a kid, if an appliance went on strike, my parents would sigh, shrug, and hand it over to me. More often than not, I’d manage to breathe life back into it—no manual required, just sheer determination and the reckless confidence of youth. Fixing things just came naturally.
Then came my brain stroke and, with it, my occupational therapist’s stern decree: No power tools. No risky business. No electrocuting yourself, thank you very much. Apparently, the combination of a recovering brain and high-voltage currents wasn’t a match made in heaven. My wife, ever the responsible one, took this warning very seriously and promptly confiscated anything with sharp edges, moving parts, or the potential to zap me into next week.
For a while, she became the household repair technician by default. To her credit, she did an admirable job, though I suspect she didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as I once did. But the brain is a fascinating thing, and my wife, ever the believer in the power of neuroplasticity, gradually reintroduced me to minor electrical repairs—so long as they didn’t involve high-voltage shocks or the possibility of losing a finger. “You can fix things again,” she declared one day, “but only the ones that won’t land you in the ER.” Fair enough.
This week’s test case? Our central vacuum cleaner’s agitator head.
Saturday was a vacuuming day in our house, and I was making my usual rounds when I noticed something was off. The brush inside the vacuum head had stopped spinning, turning it from a useful cleaning device into a glorified floor-scraper. A quick inspection revealed the usual suspect: a broken drive belt.
Fixing it was well within my wheelhouse. I tracked down a replacement online, my wife ordered it, and by early morning, it had arrived, sitting on our porch like a tiny parcel of redemption. A screwdriver, a bit of patience, and voilà—the vacuum was back in business. Naturally, I had to take it for a test run, and I’m happy to report that my repair skills remain intact.
The whole experience sent me spiraling down memory lane. As a kid, my insatiable curiosity often led me to take things apart just to see how they worked. Sometimes, this resulted in brilliant discoveries. Other times… well, let’s just say my parents learned to hide anything they weren’t willing to sacrifice to my “scientific investigations.” More than once, I dismantled something with great enthusiasm, only to realize halfway through that I had no idea how to put it back together.
These days, I’ve acquired a bit more wisdom. I no longer dismantle things I can’t confidently reassemble. But it’s nice to know that, despite everything, my hands still remember the thrill of fixing things—and that my wife hasn’t completely revoked my repair privileges.
Monday’s run was glorious. The kind of day that tricks you into believing winter is finally packing its bags and heading for the hills. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and for a fleeting moment, I thought, Maybe—just maybe—spring has arrived.
Ha.
The universe must have heard my foolish optimism and decided to intervene immediately. By Tuesday, the temperature had plummeted 15 degrees. Today? Another 10. At this point, I half-expect to wake up tomorrow and find a fresh layer of snow just to complete winter’s petty revenge arc.
It’s still not as bitterly cold as last week, but somehow, that one warm day spoiled me. I had already started fantasizing about running in short sleeves again, and now I’m back to layering up like an Arctic explorer. Funny how a single glimpse of spring makes returning to winter feel even worse than before.
Adding to the tease, the warm spell coaxed some early greenery out of hiding. My wife, ever the keen observer, stood by the window, enjoying the sight of those fresh little sprouts. And then, as if winter took offense at our moment of joy, the cold came roaring back. Typical Midwest. Having lived here, I should’ve known better. Midwest weather doesn’t transition—it mood-swings.
But what’s the point of complaining? It won’t change a thing. Might as well put my feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and mild outrage into a neat little box labeled Things I Cannot Control. It’s a pretty full box at this point.
At least my walk to the doctor’s office yesterday was pleasant. The temperature was still hanging on to some remnants of warmth, and I even managed to enjoy the stroll. The appointment went smoothly—always a plus—and, as promised, I rewarded my responsible adulting with a cupcake on the way home.
Now, let’s talk about that cupcake. Was my favorite flavor available? No. Was I momentarily devastated? A little. But I soldiered on, selected another, and—no surprises here—it was delicious. Honestly, I don’t think this bakery is even capable of making a bad cupcake. Some places just have that magic touch.
Of course, my wife, being the mysterious and perplexing individual she is, remains indifferent to cupcakes. I do not understand this. How does one simply not care about cupcakes? This is one of life’s great mysteries, alongside Why does toast always land butter-side down? and Why do socks vanish in the laundry? But alas, she was unmoved by my confectionary enthusiasm, so I had to enjoy my sweet reward solo. Her loss.
Let the temperatures play their cruel little games. I refuse to let them dictate my mood. If winter wants to be temperamental, fine—I’ll just keep finding my own ways to enjoy the day.
And if that happens to involve another cupcake next week? Well, who am I to argue with fate?
Ah, what a difference a week makes! The weather has finally decided to cooperate, and my runs are feeling much more bearable. Yesterday was so mild that I nearly ditched my windbreaker altogether. Gloves? Left them behind. And guess what? I didn’t regret it.
Running in this kind of weather is a dream. My body isn’t wasting energy trying to keep warm or cool down—it’s actually focusing on, you know, running. And the results? Well, let’s just say I had a good day. Not only did I crush my target pace for two consecutive 5Ks, but I also set a new personal best for my 10K. Not too shabby for a guy who, just a few years ago, had to relearn how to control his body.
My goal for this year? A sub-9-minute-per-kilometer 5K. Ambitious? Maybe. But here’s the kicker: It’s only January, and I’ve already pushed my pace down to 9:32/km. That’s progress. Real, tangible progress.
Now, let’s talk about running for a second. It’s a weird sport. Improvement is painfully slow, especially if you start from zero—trust me, I know. I wouldn’t call myself fast (or even moderately speedy), but I’m persistent. Whether the weather is unforgivingly cold or oppressively hot, I lace up and hit the road. I don’t quit. I just keep going.
My wife once told me that, eventually, running wouldn’t feel like a struggle—it would just be something I did. And she was right. At some point, my body got used to it. Even more surprisingly, I started experiencing what she calls “runner’s high.” She used to rave about how addictive it was, and while I wouldn’t say I’m hooked just yet, I do get it now. There’s something incredibly rewarding about seeing progress, even when it happens at a pace that would make a snail yawn.
Zooming out and looking at my progress over a year instead of obsessing over daily runs? That’s when I truly see how far I’ve come.
Of course, once summer rolls around, I expect my pace to slow down again—because running in the heat is basically self-inflicted suffering. But come fall, I’ll be ready to pick up speed again. The key is consistency. Just keep running, and the results will follow.
Oh, and speaking of progress, my planking game is back on track. Two-minute sessions are feeling solid again, thanks to the new platform. So, endurance? We’re rebuilding that, too.
All in all, I’d say things are looking pretty good. Now, let’s see what next week’s runs bring!
For the first time since I stopped doing pullups every day, I could do 10 consecutive pullups. It was quite a big deal for me. When I was a teen, I was doing gymnastics. Before the brain stroke, I was able to do pull-ups. When I was paralyzed after my brain stroke, I stayed on the bed for over one month, losing substantial muscle mass.
I started using a pull-up machine, which my wife bought me on my birthday a year before my brain stroke. I used to use a door frame pull-up bar. It was convenient because the device was mobile. After we moved to this house, she thought it would be better to have the machine since I used it. The machine even allows me to work on my abs.
Once I was more comfortable with my running schedule, I started to work on my muscles. So I reassembled the machine. I struggled a lot, even completing one at the beginning. However, gradually, I gained more and could do 5-6 times. During the summer, I had to reduce the amount of muscle exercise because I had to do so much yard work, which was quite exhausting. So, when introducing the muscle exercise, I realized I lost my muscle again.
I’ve been working on my muscles every day. Although I do different parts of the workout daily, I train my muscles daily. Despite losing my muscles, it took much longer to rebuild them.
It is still hard work. For example, while the last three were hard today, finishing the final pullup required a lot of grit. I’m pretty pleased to get back to this baseline. I’m sure it’ll get easier to do all 10 in the following weeks, and if I’m able,
I will push myself to higher numbers. If I reach 15 before next summer’s demands, I will shift my schedule back to running before breakfast and cease my other exercises. Then, when running is again pushed to after breakfast, I can start back at 10 pull-ups.
Winter can be challenging for running. The temperature in Nashville has swiftly dropped in the past few days. It’s just over 10 degrees cooler today than yesterday. Since it has been so warm until last week, my body has difficulty adjusting to the new temperature norm.
Since the brain stroke, my body has not been able to regulate the temperature well. Compared to February’s temperature, today’s temperature is not too cold; it’s just noticeably chilly compared to yesterday. The sudden temperature change impacted me in many ways, including my ability to do chores outside and run.
When I think about these activities, procrastination becomes more tempting. It looks chilly outside, and my weather App also confirms this. While these tasks are essential, I also want to stay inside the warm house.
So I just put on long sleeves for a run. I don’t think I need my windbreaker or running gloves yet. I act like this on the first step every time. Surprisingly, it works for me. Maybe it has something to do with humans’ very nature of difficulties letting go of something they started to work on. For me, running is something I have invested in for several years.
My wife didn’t hesitate to get me nice running clothing. She said I was motivated to run the first time she got me a nice pair of running shoes. It motivated me to run longer. So, she made sure I had excellent running equipment. For herself, she made sure that she had running shoes or equipment with cold wind for running, but such equipment was only for her health purposes. She doesn’t care about a shirt or pants unless she starts to run longer distances, which she used to do in her 20s and 30s.
Anyway, I put on my running clothing and shoes, and all my procrastination temptations went away. I managed to run despite this chilly weather. So, this is my little win against procrastination.
Today, I’ve elected to forego leaf collection. Due to the warm rainy days last week, I decided to mow the lawn. As I mowed the lawn for the last time, I mulched the remaining leaves in our yard to the point I could skip leaving vacuuming chores for the day. Compared to the previous week, we are having some cold days. My body was somewhat used to the warmer days; I am having difficulty adjusting to this chilly weather again.
We usually don’t have to mow around this time. I was somewhat disappointed at needing to mow again, as I had thought I’d finished that chore for the year. Somehow, the weather had its own plans. The erratic weather resulted in some late extra growth to create a little spring to the point that promoted grass and trees to create some new greens. Hopefully, I’ve now reached the end of mowing for the year.
The mower mulched the relatively few leaves on our lawn, leaving it reasonably clear. So, skipping the leaves will be a pleasant break for me. I noticed some of my neighbors started to put Christmas decorations outside. Once Thanksgiving is over, there will be a lot more decorations.
Ever since my brain stroke, I have learned to be consistent. I can’t imagine how I changed. I was more impulsive and liked to procrastinate. When I had to re-learn even basic actions, such as how to eat or walk, it taught me to be more patient. I learned that the best way to avoid forgetting to do something is to plan well and create a checklist. My wife is big on planning and making checklists. She jokes she does not trust herself to be consistent otherwise.
I realized that consistency has excellent benefits. For one, I was able to run 10 km without problems. I even started doing my muscle training, and I gained a lot more muscle. I always had toned muscles because I used to do gymnastics. When I was in bed for almost two months after the stroke, I lost a lot of muscles. I sleep and wake up at the intended time, so my biological clock works. I had difficulties reading books due to my eyes, so my wife got me audiobooks. I listened to my audiobooks all the time. I also learned how to cook and Japanese. Now, I pick up on writing.
Chores, like vacuuming leaves or even mowing, need consistency. I get tired much faster than before, especially when the weather is extreme. I will do as much as possible within my capacity, but I do them consistently. I get them done all the time. If I think like that, I lost a lot from my brain stroke, but I also gained good habits from it.
As part of the 100 Banned Books Project, I recently explored the first ten volumes of “The Walking Dead” graphic novel series—a new territory for me, given my limited exposure to graphic novels despite growing up where manga is ubiquitous. Opting to read a horror series was a leap out of my comfort zone, especially since I hadn’t watched the TV adaptation. My reactions and insights are entirely based on the impactful storytelling from 10 volumes of the graphic novels I’ve read. I encountered within these pages—yes, they were pretty intense and, at times, frightening.
Overall, “The Walking Dead” adheres to the classic science fiction narrative arc: a catastrophic disaster strikes, a leader or hero rises, and a tyrant emerges, further complicating the survivors’ quest for a resolution.
Since I’ve read only the first ten volumes, I could not see whether Rick or anyone else reached a clear resolution to the zombie apocalypse that was ever delineated. They did not even know why they were turning into zombies.
The first ten volumes’ underlying themes of leadership, community, and symbolism struck a deeper chord with me. These themes propel the plot and mirror the vast spectrum of human experiences and historical challenges.
In this blog post, I will delve into these themes, examining how they unfold in the harsh yet enlightening world of “The Walking Dead” and sharing my reflections on their broader implications on our understanding of society and survival.
Leadership in The Walking Dead
The concept of leadership in The Walking Dead graphic novels is dynamic and evolving. It initially mirrors the intense, life-and-death decisions often seen in military settings rather than those typical of a business environment.
Early in the series, leadership is embodied by law enforcement figures like Shane and Rick. However, as the story progresses, this leadership structure evolves into a co-leadership model, adding depth and intrigue to the narrative.
They eventually encounter different leadership styles, exemplified by the governor of Woodbury, who lacks moral integrity despite his effectiveness against zombies. His actions precipitate his downfall, leading to his death at the hands of one of his people after he kills Lori and her daughter, Judith.
This part of the story emphasizes that effective leadership involves more than quick decision-making for survival; it necessitates a moral compass and the capacity to inspire and uphold trust among people. In light of this, Emperor Nero is not celebrated as a hero who rescued people in the disaster; instead, he is remembered as one of the harsh leaders. This graphic novel illustrates the intricate nature of leading in a post-apocalyptic world.
The Necessity of Community
Growing up in a country frequently affected by natural disasters such as typhoons and earthquakes, I learned early on the importance of a strong community during crises. Reading “The Walking Dead” further deepened my understanding, as the characters’ survival often depends on their ability to unite and support each other.
The graphic novels show small communities, like the one formed by Rick and Lori, where everyone relies on mutual aid to get by. They highlight how, in dire need, the best assistance often arises from small, cohesive groups. Then, even a well-prepared individual will need help in the long run. For instance, Hershel Greene, who initially survives with just his family on their farm, is ultimately compelled to join the larger community after a tragic encounter with the zombies he harbored, killing his sons.
This theme reminded me of the community dynamics in N.K. Jemisin’s “Broken Earth” series. Although the plots differ, both stories reflect how communities react under stress differently—some by raiding or exploiting others and some by endeavoring to help those in distress.
Communities that uphold solid moral values tend to endure and thrive across generations. Disaster experiences profoundly affect our collective psyche, shaping how we respond to future calamities and enhancing our preparedness for them. On the flip side, self-centered actions can lead to isolation, especially when solidarity is vital in subsequent generations.
Humanity’s inherent inclination to support each other is evident in real-world responses to disasters, such as the international aid sent to Japan following severe earthquakes or the widespread assistance provided to Nashville after a major tornado in 2020 disrupted power for half a million households for an extended period. These acts of solidarity help communities recover and reinforce the essential human bond that emerges strong in the face of adversity.
Symbolism of Zombies and Survivors
In “The Walking Dead,” zombies symbolize the ubiquitous fears and disasters humanity faces. At the same time, the survivors represent those who overcome these challenges.
This motif resonates with ancient beliefs in many cultures, where disasters were often attributed to supernatural forces. In Japan, for instance, natural calamities were sometimes thought to result from angered mystical entities. Ancient Greeks and Romans believed that gods often brought disasters as punishment.
The survivors in the graphic novels, much like communities facing real-world disasters, embody resilience and hope—a testament to human endurance and solidarity across different eras and cultures.
Conclusion
Every story, no matter its genre or setting, holds valuable lessons if we approach it with the right mindset. “The Walking Dead” is more than just a series about surviving a zombie apocalypse; it offers a profound exploration of leadership and community that is highly relevant to our real-world experiences. By depicting a post-apocalyptic world where the stakes are life and death, the series not only tests the resilience of the human spirit but also simulates disaster scenarios that push us to consider our responses to extreme adversity.
The graphic novels have prompted me to reflect on the qualities that define authentic leadership and the importance of community during crises. They underscore the idea that in times of dire need, the strength of our communal bonds can make the difference between survival and collapse.
As someone coming from Japan—a country awaiting a significant overdue earthquake—these stories oddly provide a sense of hope. They remind me that resilience, deeply ingrained in our
consciousness, can help us navigate and potentially overcome even the most catastrophic events. “The Walking Dead” reassures us that despite the horrors we might face, our capacity for cooperation and leadership can lead us through the darkest times.
Re: Rediscovering Myself After a Stroke: A Journey Back to Youth
Several weeks after Brian commenced his rehabilitation journey, we focused on improving his walking ability. The stroke had significantly weakened his muscles and robbed him of control over his legs and arms. Despite this, his brain retained the memory of movement, leading to a challenging phase where Brian would wake up at night, attempting to go to the bathroom as he used to, only to fall due to his weakened muscles. The frequency of these incidents at the rehabilitation center resulted in numerous calls from the facility, prompting Brian’s mother and me to stay with him overnight.
Brian’s frustration was palpable. At one point, he contemplated abandoning all efforts toward recovery. He was a perfectionist by nature, accustomed to meeting high standards independently. The stroke’s aftermath, which left him dependent on others for basic needs, was a source of significant distress. He expressed the extent of his despair, prompting a stern response from me that threatened to withdraw support if he gave up on himself—this moment of tough love proved to be a turning point for Brian.
Taking his rehabilitation more seriously, Brian and I began daily walks with the assistance of a walker. Initially, he required frequent rests, but after 16 months, he progressed to jogging, covering 1.27 miles on his first attempt. Recognizing the importance of proper footwear, I gifted him a pair of running shoes. We also discovered a running app named “Zombies, Run!” with a log function. I encouraged Brian to track his distance and inform me upon reaching 500 km, aiming to monitor the usage of his shoes. Additionally, we invested in a digital scale to measure his muscle composition, weight, and bone mass, which became a source of pride for Brian as he noted his gradual improvements.
Experiencing a stroke results in numerous losses, not just for the survivor but also for their family. Reflecting on Brian’s journal entries during this time evokes strong memories of our shared struggles. I wished I had read a journal like this back then.
My husband truly inspires me. With his permission, I’ve shared excerpts from Brian’s journal to offer hope and insight to others facing similar challenges. Recovery from a stroke is a slow process, but improvement is possible. For those supporting someone like Brian, it’s crucial to communicate hope and encourage perseverance. Never give up.
Throughout my life, I often encountered the philosophical musing: if given the chance, would one return to their youth with the wisdom they’ve accumulated? For the longest time, my answer was a resolute no. My younger years were not periods I looked back on fondly, and the prospect of revisiting them, even with the advantage of hindsight, seemed far from appealing. However, fate, through the unexpected event of a stroke, made this decision on my behalf. In a bizarre twist, I was thrust back to a state resembling my youth, where essential habits and skills I took for granted were wiped clean, necessitating a thorough relearning process akin to a child taking their first steps.
The journey was nothing short of frustrating. Imagine, if you will, the sudden and complete loss of control over bodily functions once operated on autopilot. The mere act of walking became a Herculean task that demanded my full attention and effort. It was during this time, amidst the throes of rehabilitation and reacquaintance with my own body, that I decided to shift my perspective. Rather than mourning the loss of my former capabilities, I chose to view this as an opportunity to rebuild myself, but better.
This shift had its challenges. My natural inclination towards perfectionism meant that each failure and stumble was met with harsh self-criticism. Yet, the stroke provided an undeniable excuse for every shortcoming. Dropped a glass? A direct consequence of the stroke. Forgot to refrigerate the leftovers? Another lapse courtesy of my condition. While it was tempting to lean on these excuses, I recognized the danger of allowing my stroke to become a crutch that hindered improvement.
Determined to overcome, I made a pact with myself to persevere. While my stroke was a legitimate barrier to achieving perfection, it wasn’t an impossible one preventing improvement. Embracing kindness towards myself in the face of failure became a transformative practice. This newfound leniency allowed me to approach tasks with a beginner’s mindset, gradually improving without the pressure to achieve mastery from the outset.
Logging and Journaling became vital in this process, providing a tangible record of my progress. Over five years, this practice revealed to me just how far I had come. The path to recovery and self-betterment was slow, often imperceptible from day to day, but the cumulative effect was undeniable.
In retrospect, the stroke inadvertently forced me into the very scenario I had long dismissed. Returning to a state of developing ability with the wisdom of my years became a blessing in disguise. It offered me a second chance at relearning how to live and live better. Through this journey, I discovered resilience, patience, and a more profound kindness towards myself that I might never have found otherwise.
Today was supposed to mark the beginning of my friend’s long-awaited visit, a day we had all been eagerly anticipating. However, life has a way of throwing unexpected curveballs, and this time, it came in the form of my wife contracting COVID-19. It’s a situation that none of us could have foreseen, but we’re doing our best to adapt to the circumstances.
Thankfully, we discovered my wife’s infection before my friend embarked on his journey to visit us. It was a close call, and it left us with a difficult decision to make. After careful consideration and a heartfelt conversation with my friend, we came to the difficult but necessary conclusion that it would be best to postpone his visit for the time being. It wasn’t an easy choice, as we were all looking forward to spending time together, but safety had to come first.
In these trying times, flexibility has become a paramount virtue. The world we live in today is vastly different from what we once knew, and the unpredictability of the ongoing pandemic has taught us that we must be prepared to adapt our plans at a moment’s notice. It’s a lesson in resilience and the understanding that external factors beyond our control can swiftly intervene, altering the course of our lives.
While it’s disheartening to cancel my friend’s visit, I find solace that we still have much to be grateful for. My wife’s early diagnosis and isolation are crucial steps in her recovery, and we hope for her well-being. We are also thankful that we notified my friend before he began his journey, sparing him from potential exposure.
Moreover, there’s a silver lining even in these challenging circumstances. The prospect of my friend’s visit motivated us to embark on a thorough cleaning spree throughout our home. Neglected corners and dusty shelves received much-needed attention, resulting in a cleaner, more organized living space. It’s a reminder that even when plans don’t unfold as expected, there are still ways to find value and productivity.
As we navigate this new normal, we must focus on the positives and the opportunities that arise amidst adversity. My friend and I may not share the same physical space today. However, we can still connect through technology until a safer time for a visit presents itself. Maintaining our connections with loved ones has become more critical in a world that often feels uncertain.
In conclusion, today’s turn of events has reminded me of the importance of flexibility and adaptability in our lives. We must be prepared to pivot when necessary, and our ability to do so is a testament to our resilience. While we may be disappointed by the cancellation of my friend’s visit, we remain hopeful for my wife’s recovery and thankful for our precautions. In the end, the bonds we share and the moments we cherish genuinely matter, and those are worth waiting for, no matter the circumstances. So, for now, we’ll savor our tiramisu and look forward to a future when we can all be together once more.
