What Can I Trust?

I am haunted by my hospitalist words. It was the next day in the ICU,  after being admitted for my CVA (Cerebrovascular accident).   My doctor spoke with a slight Russian accent.  Her tone was very ‘matter of fact’, like a weather forecast, or like an un-engaged bureaucrat issuing droll hum-drum tax information. She said:

“You’ll never work as a police officer again…. Maybe it’s time you get nice office job”

I was stunned. I thought “you don’t know me”. I was outraged. I was hurt. I couldn’t hear anything else this doctor told me. I insisted that she leave my hospital room. How could this doc know this with such certainty?  I didn’t trust her words.

It’s almost 8 months since she told me this.  I’m still not working as a “real” police officer.  I’m still on light duty.   Her prophecy has slightly cracked my shell and I finally conceded she might be correct.  Last week my speech therapist told me “you’re not progressing as we thought you should have been”.   I still have trouble remembering how to pronounce words.  I can see an object and can identify it, but I cannot remember or say the word to identify the object.   I can’t trust my brain.

I was describing a church pew.  The word “pew” wouldn’t come to my thinking.  I could only remember how to say it when the person I was talking with asked me “pew, right?”  Not that “pew” comes out in conversation very frequently, but it was disturbing I couldn’t remember a word that is this familiar to me.  I can’t trust my vocabulary.

I like to sing.  I’m not a professional singer, but I enjoy it.  I’ve been singing all my life and literally knew the lyrics for over 1,000 songs.  Now I can remember the melody line, but not the lyrics.  This week I spent hours trying to remember the title of our national anthem.  Weird, since I’ve performed “The Star-Spangled Banner” several times.  Now I can remember the title and the opening line — the rest of the lyrics continue to elude me.  It’s frustrating, I can’t trust my memory.

There are more foibles I am unwilling to share in this forum.

I did chat with the city’s disability guru.  She was pleasant, but seemed to know something I wasn’t willing to admit.  She said when I am ready to come back to work it “might not be at the police department”.  Strange she knows more about my possibilties than I know.  I don’t trust the city’s best intentions.

I’ve been very absent writing because it is very hard to write for me right now.  Not the content…. That’s the easy part.  So that I do not sounding like a whiner…. And putting these ideas in readable sentences that make sense…. And not showing my self-disgust for not getting better quickly…. These are the challenges.   I don’t trust my writing.

AFGO— Another freakin’ growth opportunity…. I just don’t trust it….

Of course, your mileage may vary.

Dr Jay Irvin

 

Don’t be That Guy

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I work in a field where we’re known to “eat our young”.  I know that is not a flattering statement to say about a profession, but it’s truer than we want to admit. As a police officer you either figure it out or find yourself looking for a new job.  We smugly say “Yep, being a police officer is not for everybody” and give out walking papers like they were business cards.

Part of me is very happy there are high standards for police professionals.  With all the national scrutiny and the national dialogue not friendly with law enforcement, it does take a certain type of person to do this job. I used to be this type of guy.  Post stroke I’m having to find my way back to  who I used to be.  I feel I’ve been evicted of my identity.

For example, writing used to be therapeutic for me.   Now it’s a chore.  Simple police reports require more re-edit that I am used to doing.  Goofy.

I hope my grammar and syntax fluidity will come back too.  I’m having a challenge with homophones and spelling.  I know the different between there, their, they’re and by, buy, bye; but my writing hasn’t displayed my knowing!

My friends tell me my speech is getting better…. by the week…. I saw a friend, whom I’ve known over 20 years, and commented he could not even really hear my verbal gaffes…. barely.  He is kind.  Improvement is good.

I’ve found a problem with me using gender and pronouns.  I’ve caught myself referring to ‘she’ when I’m talking about a ‘he’ … And vice-versa.  My spelling  is showing some inadequacies too.  I could not, for the life of me, spell ‘mannequin’.  I couldn’t even get my auto-correct to find the word for me…. I was able to find the spelling by my on-line thesaurus…. This week I forgot how to pronounce “opinion”… Which is odd, since I have some many of them…. Kinda funny for me, actually.

My doc tells me there isn’t much treatment (except time) and continue my therapies.  I feel like I have to continually explain myself.   We have protocol for physical maladies, but nothing for unseen neurological damage.  There is no cast to remove or there is no bruise to heal or there are no stitches to remove.  The healing is invisible.  This is a hard concept for “that guy”.

I will get my language and grammar and speaking capacities back.  The problem is I don’t know when.  The speech pathologist seemed to think of months… not years.  That was encouraging.  Yet, I have not been kind to myself.  I have been “that guy” to myself.  You know, the one who says “Just suck it up”.

The day I was hospitalized my language was about 30%.  It was apparent to anybody communicating with me.  A month later I was 75% (maybe).  Two and a half months later I’m 80% back.  These percentages are just my estimates.  The docs won’t give me percentages.

I have a stammer and stutter that I never had.  My speech issue exacerbate by stress– And this is a stress job.  (My internal “that guy” dialogue is beating me up for whining too much as I write this.)  Damn the humanity it all….

I still maintain I am blessed.  And I am humbled by this experience.  AFGO (Another freaking grow opportunity)….

Of course, Your mileage may vary

Dr Jay

 

 

 

Best Laid Plans

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It’s been a while since I’ve published any articles.  I didn’t plan on being so absent from my blog.   I seem more tentative in writing in my ‘post-stroke’ days.  Sad, really….

I’ve been having more challenges that I want to admit.  I was planning to do some speech therapy and planning go back to my life as normal…. But not so fast, it turns out.  Not so fast at all.

I planned on take the requisite 20-30 light duty days and transition back to my old world. I am a patrol officer for a medium city.  I take my profession serious and my obligation to the public and my organization very seriously.  We are short-staffed and my team needs me.   Apparently I’m sitting out for another month and perhaps more.  The doc said this takes time.

Mentally I think I’m back to the challenge. Verbally I’m not sure.  One of the therapist put a name on it “apraxia of speech”.  The American Stroke Association (ASA) defines it:

Apraxia of speech most often follows a stroke that affects the language-dominant hemisphere of the brain. It is usually associated with damage to the areas of the brain supplied by the left, middle cerebral artery. Apraxia of speech may range in severity from a complete inability to speak to very mild, barely detectable distortions of speech.

For me, usually I know the words I want to say. I understand the language. I recognize them if I read or hear them, I can even spell them. But I can’t remember how to pronounce the word.  This is a real challenge for me.  There are other issues…

I didn’t realize how much losing a large part of my verbalization ability upset my apple cart until one of my colleague told me how she saw it…. She said I as a very articulate communicator and could use words in a way 99% of the world will never have that ability.  “But now since your stroke, you’re having to identify who you are all again…”  Her insight hit me like a Mack truck. I’ve lost my identity.  No wonder she is called “human extraordinaire”.

We have concepts of who we are that give us identity.  I’m a good dad. I am a great cook.  I’m a smart dude.  I can speak in front of crowds. I am a ‘crazy-whisperer’.  And my list goes on.  I’ve identified myself as a great ‘talker’.  Now that identity has been taken; my new identity as stuttering, stammering, can’t-remember-how-to-pronounce-words-guy, and use-the-wrong-word-guy leaves me feeling lost.

The best tool a police officer has is the brain.  The tool that works along with this is the ability to talk.  I’ve avoided numerous violent incidents by effective verbalization.  I’ve diffused hundreds of possibly negative issues by talking.  The best negotiators are able to verbalize and communications alternatives and better solutions.  This is Police 101.  And my tool is damaged.   The ASA said it make take 6-12 months (if ever) to get the abilities back to pre-stroke abilities.  Rats to my plans…

And there’s another wrinkle….PBA (pseudobulbar affect)...  This isn’t all that common (about 38% of stroke survivors have symptoms).  It is a condition associated with strokes, TBI (traumatic brain injury), MS (multiple sclerosis), or other neurological issues. The result: sudden, unpredictable crying, laughing, or other emotional episodes that can be disruptive and embarrassing.  And I found about it by mistake. These are not good traits of a street cop.  I have my work cut out for me.

One of my fear is I won’t get back to pre-stroke abilities.  This scares the crap out of me.  No matter of your best laid plans, sometimes else will change ones trajectory…I guess it really is true…. I’m not in charge. I know I’ll do my part to heal and I’ll just hang on for the ride!

Of course, your mileage may vary.

Dr Jay