Recovery routine = social detachment

[Daniel]

I can recall in 2005 when I first arrived back home and was sitting up in my hospital bed opposite Arthur : an elderly gentleman who had suffered a stroke. He had glasses on and short, grey hair, but what I noticed the most was how straight minded he sounded when speaking - not the physical pronounciation - that was only marginally better than my own, but how he thought and how nice and polite he came across when saying anything surprised the heck out of me and I could hardly believe it when the poor man was wheeled away for physio by a therapist and his entire left side was seemingly frozen from the nerve damage he had suffered - his left hand bent into a claw, his leg at a constant right angle, and his mouth also slanted slightly.

Saying what I'm about to is something I'm not proud of admitting, but I was envious of him at the time because he was actually more physically capable and logically minded than I was as I sat there spouting off nursery rhymes translated into Chinese on my bedside whiteboard : it was mostly wrong, but the practice, I feel, was the difference between stopping studying and being now still going strong at it.

I occupied the bed opposite to Arthur after coming from Hong Kong, where the bed opposite had been occupied by an unfortunately unconscious Brazillian man (20ish years, I'm told) who also had the name Daniel and who had suffered a haemorrhage after drinking too much rice wine at a party. Again, I selfishly compared myself to him and thanked god I was at least awake, even if the pain felt intense.

By the 4th, and final hospital (don't recall the first in central China), I was opposite to the final stroke victim I met on my stay : Barry - a man who had suffered a mercifully mild attack and could walk fine and sounded just a little distant but, as I once again found myself comparing us both, he then seemed insurmountably better than I. I had only recently to that point gotten rid of the wheelchair and progressed to crutches, I couldn't string a coherent sentence together or recall the one I'd just fumbled my way through, yet he appeared in such superior health.

Again, I'm ashamed to say that I then envied him, though in hindsight I thank god I only had encephalitis compared to what he's going through.

By the end of my hospital visit I had a fear of stroke etched in my mind - I'd seen it daily, doctors had told me of the former potential I had of one occurring as an immediate result of encephalitis, and I had laid in 3 of my 4 hospital beds I'd occupied prior to that moment of discharge, staring at that potential possibility for me at a wide spectrum of varying degree of severity : unconscious (Hong Kong), to very noticeably disabled (1st Christchurch hospital), to mild (last hospital) - I'd seen all that and grown a fear of becoming the same way myself.

Around this time, I discovered my friends horror at seeing me in that health - I'd forgotten daily prior to that moment how they had avoided me and I had only fleeting suspicions in my mind of how they felt - like a nightmare you think you can recall but not quite, of their finding excuses to leave, brief text message responses, or just all out evasion and noticeable discomfort when in the same room.

I left hospital hell bent on changing all that and doing something about it. I began to rehab, first exclusively at home, then at a gym after my physiotherapist sister pushed me to try. I continued to study despite my memory, and began to post thoughts on this site - seeing improvment move at a crawl as people online reacted in either an admirable and well appreciated manner which I won't forget, or complete evasion, which I try to but cannot, as it reminds me of those I've come to think less of IRL.

My rehab routine grew, from a few hours/day of physical and mental activity, to about 8 hours/day by the end of 2006 and, by that point, old acquaintances were no longer a factor as I was too tired to deal with them or too busy in my selfish routine of the time.

The routine has continued since, though on a lessened capacity as I now only frequent the gym 3 days/week, but all else done in a physical or mental capacity still equates to there simply being no time or energy to return to the side of those friends who I grew up with or even to make new ones - I'm not even sure I want to meet anyone IRL again.

I think the reason for this can best be summed up with a word my neurologist at the last hospital used when he was trying to say I'd never improve from that point onward - 'adaptation', he said, 'your brain will compensate for the damage and adapt to your situation as well as it possibly can'.

I didn't like that sentence, it still said to me, 'you're screwed, get over it' - so I answered in a typical and regretfull manner of "s-s-screw y-y-you", even though I now know there was nothing else he could have told me.

I became *obsessed* with getting well and regrettably self obsessed in the process. It seemed only logical at the time - I owed my family my life for pulling my sorry ass out of Asia, I resented friends for rejecting me and my doctor for trying to euphemize a negative prognosis. Therefore, an over the top and psychotically rigid push at rehabilitation seemed only logical.

Time passed by in the form of 4 years - the routine had yielded unexpectedly positive progress and I'd even managed to appear 90% well and find a voluntary job which I hated doing and constantly felt like everyone there was watching, judging, and labelling me 'retarded' or something similar. It was paranoia, but paranoia born of going from a rigid, self obsessive rehabilitation routine with a very solitary lifestyle outside family, to what felt like a completely alien working environment with new people who I didn't know or trust and felt they were all just waiting for an opportunity to pick holes in my health before asking me to leave.

I kept my mouth shut and tried my best, but the detachment and lack of connection with my co workers was painfully evident by the time I left there, and that whole 9 month experience of working in that library was an exercise in prooving to me that, while I may feel at around 90% health now, I'm socially 50/50 and inherantly difficult to get along with because I have almost no ability to trust people based on what they say, 'are they serious?' I always first ask, 'are they mocking me or saying I'm an idiot?' inevitably comes soon after and always do I take it out on rehab and improving further and building my ability to put up with that in the future, at the expense of right now. I've lost the ability to trust other people IRL, and again doing so seems like a distant fantasy despite it being no where near as bad as it was a year ago or even moreso two years ago.

I miss having the ability to trust others. I spent so long missing physical abilities that, when these abilities finally began to return, the psychological damage done from having spent so long out of any type of social circle makes the future seem like a door only opening to another long and uncertain, dimly lit corridor of uncertainty.

Still, at least it's a different corridor to the last one, right?

If I ever come across online as cold or distant, then hopefully this blog explains why that is : I don't mean it, I'm just learning how to trust again - advance apologies.