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I’m still in shock. Days before my 40th birthday, the left side of my brain was damaged by a stroke. Doctors tell me the best way to heal my brain is to work it. So here I am.

Since it happened, misery has compounded. A stomach ulcer caused severe pain, nausea and vomiting. The resulting ER trip triggered tests that found a tumor on my left adrenal gland. Cancer? TBD. Next came a bladder infection followed by terrible case of bronchitis. I haven’t been able to taste for about a week. A migraine keeps returning. All these things make me have paralytic attacks. The stress has made my hair fall out.

As for recovering from the effects of the stroke, it feels like I haven’t been given much of a chance. Strength and numbness on my right side waxes and wanes. Words and comprehension come and go too. Emotions aren’t always under my control. If there’s good news, it’s that I have seen an improvement in my ability to talk. I’ll take it.

Normally, I would do anything to get better. Moving halfway across the world proved that. Yet it seems my body is built for betrayal. Since I was 18 years old, I’ve had one health issue after another. Each time, I looked for the silver lining, determined to have an attitude of gratitude at every opportunity. Todd and I were always able to find some humor in the midst of many dark times. Then in 2016, I even enjoyed a year or two of relative remission. Now? I cannot find any of those things. Just a broken heart.

When we moved to Hawaii, I felt liberated. Sure, my muscles were weak, but that was expected, given I spent most of my time before the move in bed. I started to be able to go places without needing my wheelchair for the first time in years. In my joy, I often overdid it. But I’d recuperate and get back out there as soon as my body allowed.

I’d found a great team of caring and capable healthcare providers and made real gains, slowly, but surely. It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a couple new diagnoses had to be added to my chart since the move. But overall, my quality of life was worlds better than what I had on the mainland.

The whole family was happier. It wasn’t just due to the improvement in our physical health. We found dear friendships and joined a church, all while falling more in love with the Hilo community and the Big Island. Our guest room has often been occupied, giving us the joy of sharing our love of the island with our extended family and friends. Finally I was able to start giving back instead of just taking.

Not any more. Bathroom trips require a chaperone and a mobility aid. Walking more than a few steps is impossible. Some days, I can sit outside for a bit in the wheelchair (view from the backdoor landing attached). On my best days, Todd has taken me for a drive. Most of the time, I’m back in bed wondering how to move forward from here.

I’ve realized that I can’t say I’m a fighter because there is nothing I can do to control the diagnoses I’m dealt. It’s not a fair fight when one side has all the power. However the flip side means that getting “worse” does not make me a loser. I wouldn’t say I’m “strong” either. I survive as best I can because there is no choice.