A Stroke of Genius

Morning followers.  Not really a rant this morning (sorry to disappoint, if you want a shot of depression check out The Budget), but a bit of background to the origins of Grumpy Old Gay.

I read the most inspirational article by Tim Lusher in The Guardian this morning about his recovery from a brain injury, which struck a real chord with me.

If you don't already know, I suffered a stroke nearly 10 years ago, which left me completely paralysed down my right side, unable to stand up, walk, or speak properly.  Without going in to massive detail (as this is rapidly turning into a Piers Morgan stylee probing - eeeew, wrong word) I was taught to walk, speak and generally live again by an absolutely awesome group of doctors, physiotherapists, psychiatrists, stroke nurses, speech therapists and occupational therapists, first at The National Hospital for Neorosurgery & Neurology - I will never be able to thank these people enough, they literally rebuilt my life.  (Thanks also to all of the friends that have had to put up with me since!).

My care continued back at my flat in Hove, with an amazing mobile team of rehab workers from the local stroke unit - a bit like The A Team in navy blue uniforms.  One of the many rehab activities I was encouraged to do was an email recovery diary - predominantly to get me using my right hand again, but also to get me to concentrate on something for more than 30 seconds.

Hence me bringing up the subject in this blog.  'Stroke of Genius' as it became known was ultimately the precursor to this blog (sad old man fact, 10 years ago blogging didn't exist really).  But what I really think it shows is the beginnings of my sardonic, caustic (ok, miserable) rantings - there is no doubt that my stroke had an unavoidable effect on my character - however at the time, laughing at my utterly ridiculous life situation was the only way to avoid slitting my wrists.

This morning, as if by fate I dug out an old email back-up which had some of the Stroke of Genius emails.  Hence for your enjoyment/ridicule below is the first instalment of my rehab diary.




Saturday 17 February 2001

Calories - 10000; thoughts about sex - 5000; spots - 1; Valentine's cards - 0


Welcome to the first instalment of my new diary, hopefully more 'Bridget Jones' than 'Adrian Mole', but at the moment probably more akin to 'Anne Frank'.  My physio is keen for me to start doing things with two hands (bilateral activity in rehab speak) so typing seemed a good place to start - will have to think what else I can do with two hands.


Very excited about my forthcoming holiday, only 9  days to go.  A whole week in Gran Canaria at an exclusively gay apartment complex - have a feeling I will have lots of difficulty in standing up and require assistance from nearest kind man.  Mind you, spending time lying on my back has its advantages.  Desperate to get a tan, grey may be very chic darling, but not as a skin tone.


Must stop thinking about sex - am turning into nymphomaniac, good job I can't run yet.  Mind you, don't really stand out too much in Brighton - most men here are limp wristed, I go one better and have an entire limp side!  Must perfect sympathy pulling technique - don't want people to get the wrong idea about why I am walking like this.  Nice to have an excuse for slurred speech and dodgy walking which doesn't involve the GNP of a South American country.


Neighbours think I have gone completely barmy - speech therapist (insane version of my mother) has got me 'mooing' at volume and singing from 1 to 10, plus physio has me standing on my right leg which involves lots of swearing and falling onto beanbag.  Coupled with obsessive playing of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire' computer game, with sultry tones of Chris Tarrant, the noise coming from my flat must be quite disturbing.


Despite animal noises, therapy is going really well - have to eat lots of chocolate, play lots of computer games, and have a facial once a week (sensory stimulation blah blah).  Can get quite used to this therapy lark, may need another rehab to return to normal life.


Eating like a trooper at the moment - quite amusing, as where I have no ab muscles, I have a love handle on one side, but not on the other.  Do love handles come in pairs?  If so, can someone please return the missing one as soon as possible.


Went for a walk with friend Lawrence this week - bit like being a dog "Time for Matt's walk now" - Thankfully not obsessed with lampposts and sniffing other peoples' bottoms - well, maybe the latter.  Got all the way to the seafront where proceeded to be overtaken by little old ladies and toddlers - think I might start wearing rollerblades to increase speed, but would probably go round in circles.


Spending lots of time on the internet, thinking of starting a live webcam - 'Cripplecam.com' - slight problem that Nike are unwilling to have a hyperlink from the site - can't think why, whole ethos behind rehab is 'Just Do It'.


Was very brave and walked to the off-licence on my own last night.  Took me ages to cross the road coming back - was imagining headline "Local Stroke Victim knocked over clutching Thresher carrier" - plus, bottle of wine was very cheap - must buy nice Sancerre in future in case of accident, could not cope with humiliation of being found with £3.49 bottle of Chilean plonk.


Well, have been wittering enough, and attention span is drawing to a close (great excuse for not doing anything that takes more than 30 minut es).  Brace yourself for next exciting instalment of recuperation ramblings.


Lots of love, and big thanks for the sponsorship money, £400 and rising.


Speed Queen XXX








OK, well enough of the sentimentality - normal grumpiness will resume as soon as possible xxx






STOP PRESS - GRUMPOLDGAY QUOTED (WELL MENTIONED ANYWAY) IN THE GUARDIAN ON FRIDAY - OH YEAH BABY  http://www.guardian.co.uk/theguardian/2010/jun/25/the-g2-readers-room