The holiday season last year looked a lot different for me than it does this year ... quite literally. On Thanksgiving, I was trying to kick what I thought at the time was a bad migraine. The next morning, I finally caved in and called my son Brad and asked him to take me to a walk-in clinic. I'll spare you all the details, but I spent the rest of Black Friday in the hospital. After a bunch of blood draws, a million questions to determine if I knew my name and my children's names and the difference between what an elephant and a banana look like, my head was strapped into several restraining devices and I spent an hour or so that night inside a tube getting a very loud MRI of my brain. The next morning, a neurologist who reminded me very much of Mary Poppins entered my room and explained to Brad and I that it wasn't some weird kind of migraine causing my vision issues and sensitivity to light but rather a stroke in the lower right occipital lobe of my brain. Not exactly the way I had planned to close out the year, but I was abundantly thankful to be alive.
I spent the remainder of November and December visiting multiple doctors, being chauffeured to the grocery store by family and friends (because of my vision issues, it was tough at times for me to tell if I was buying dog food or chicken breasts), greeting visitors who often brought me lunch or dinner (in addition to being wonderfully caring and giving humans, they may have been concerned that I was eating the dog food and feeding Ollie the chicken breasts) and sleeping ... and sleeping ... and sleeping. That's one of the things I remember most vividly about the first month or so after the stroke ... sleeping. I think I probably slept more in the weeks following the stroke than I had in my entire life.
With all those giant sleeps (that's Canadian speak, by the way) came some of the weirdest dreams I've ever had. Crazy, insane dreams that have continued to visit me during my extended sleeps even now a year later. Think Ollie standing on his hind legs in a boxing ring going up against a towering coyote (also on his hind legs), duking it out to become the world heavyweight boxing champion, all while dressed in satin boxing trunks, boxing gloves and those super-cute, sneaker-like, little lace-up boxing shoes that the pros wear. Get that image in your mind and then sprinkle in a few others like the male co-CEO of the company I work for selling Girl Scout cookies outside of Hy-Vee in full Girl-Scout uniform or my companion proofreader being knighted by Queen Elizabeth while wearing a suit of armor (just to be clear, my fellow proofer was wearing the armor, not the Queen) or being inside an Egyptian pyramid talking to Barbra Streisand about what I was planning to cook for dinner for her and her husband James Brolin.
If you picture all those crazy scenarios and sprinkle in a bunch more, you'll have a good idea of the sheer craziness of my post-stroke dream world. In the beginning, the weird dreams frightened me a wee bit. That's actually an understatement … they terrified me because I feared what they might mean in regard to the instability of my newly wounded brain. These days, however, I look forward to them, perhaps in small part because I know the extent of my stroke-related after effects and I know the dreams are nothing to be afraid of and in reality, they are just plain old fun. I mean, come on … I've had some pretty righteous adventures over the last year when I'm in sleep mode, dudes and dudettes. Just last night I dreamed I was ripping some big waves and catching some epic tubes in Hawaii with all my Santa hat-wearing kids and grandkids. I can think of no better way to spend my sleeps, friends … no better way at all.
So why on this the eve of Christmas am I sharing some of my unusual post-stroke dreams with you? Because I've learned to be thankful for every single one of those crazy dreams. I'm thankful for them because each one reminds me of how far I've come over the last year, both physically and mentally, and how blessed I am to be alive. I'm thankful for those mixed-up, off-the-wall, often-hilarious dreams because they make me remember to keep my eyes and my heart open to all the wonderful things I can see rather than focusing on those I can't. If I tried to list all the things I'm thankful for this holiday season, you'd be reading for a very, very long time. You'll just have to take my word for it … I have so much more than I ever could have imagined to be thankful for this year, my friends. From big things like family and friends to small things like a drink of cold water and everything in between, I am truly thankful beyond measure.
In closing, I'd like to tell you about a young man named Anthony and in doing so my prayer is that his story will encourage you to find ways, big or small, to become someone's Anthony in the coming year. Some of you may recall that my great nephew Kevin was diagnosed a little over three years ago with ALS. Over the course of those short three years ALS has ravaged Kevin's body, leaving him unable to move, speak, chew or swallow. For the last year or so, his only nourishment has come through a surgically implanted feeding tube and his only means of communicating with his wife and two young children was a special computer that spoke the words he blinked onto the screen. Anthony and Kevin have been friends since they were in junior high, and not even ALS could break the bond between the two young men. When Kevin's wife Rachel could no longer care for Kevin alone, Anthony came and helped. And when I say helped, I mean he bathed Kevin, shaved him, cut his hair, brushed his teeth, helped to feed him when he could still eat, took him to doctor's appointments and treatments, lifted him in and out of his wheelchair, stayed with him so that Rachel could continue to be involved in her kids' lives and attend their activities, took care of sick children, helped with repairs around the house, played with the kids when Rachel needed a break and spent countless hours doing physical therapy exercises with Kevin to help him maintain some flexibility and help reduce any pain he might have.
There really aren't words to explain the brotherhood that exists between Kevin and Anthony, but I know that every single person in our family is beyond thankful for the day all those years ago when their friendship was born. We are beyond thankful for Anthony's commitment to Kevin and his family, for his willingness to be there through the darkest hours of their lives, for his selfless, giving and compassionate heart. I told Rachel when I visited in October that I was convinced that Anthony was more angel than man. What a tremendous blessing and gift he is … how sacrificial his spirit … how caring his heart … how steadfast his love for his friend. Rather than sending a note or giving Kevin a call now and then to say he was thinking of him, Anthony stepped up and he does everything he can to help. Not for a week, not for a month, not for one year mind you … Anthony has been there day in and day out for years and he will be there until the end. To say that our family is thankful for Anthony … well … words just simply are not enough … words really and truly are nowhere near enough.
So on this the eve of Christmas, here's my wish, my hope, my prayer for each of you in the coming year … be thankful. Be thankful for what you can see and don't worry about what you can't. Be thankful for every breath you take and know that each one is a gift. Be thankful for the people you are blessed to love and who love you, and never take the time you have with them for granted. Be thankful for dreams that make you laugh, for children who give you hugs, for dogs that love you most, for another day of life. In big ways and small ways and all the ways in between … be someone's Anthony every chance you get. On this the eve of Christmas, be thankful, my friends … be thankful indeed.
