Why marriage and stroke have more in common that you think
I’d like to think that my marriage is stronger since I suffered a stroke. I would like to believe that we, as a couple, can weather this storm and even grow stronger. Above all, I can imagine us coming out on the other side as two oldies, sitting on our front porch laughing about that time when the only word which I could speak was ‘one’.
I have to believe in all of these so-called truths, because the actual truth can cripple me.
You say when you are married ‘until death do us part’ and ‘in sickness and in health’, but when push comes to shove, how you deal with your life-partner in times of crisis is simply foreign.
The fact is, that illness or a sudden life-changing-event causes turmoil, wreaks havoc, on marital relationships.
From the first day when I woke up following my 9.5 hour surgery the game had changed. I was no longer an equal. I was placed, by something much larger and more forceful than me, like an infant, in my husband's care.
You would think that upon awakening we would have looked at each other and fallen into tears, at the what-ifs. And we did. But soon thereafter, something much larger and more urgent took over.
My husband, Johan, was in charge. And I was not.
With time, the shift has felt more natural or maybe I have just succumbed to it. In any event, marriage and stroke have more in common than you think.
You can not get a break
I am sure that if he could, Johan truly would love to take a little trip. Not far and not too long, but just so he could feel anything but the immense burden of his life.
From the moment Johan found me mid-stroke, to making decisions when I was on the operating table, to handling the incomprehensible bills, to this very day, his life has taken an unwanted about-face.
Just the same, I would love love love to wake up, just once, and not have to deal with my tricky speech or my spastic foot. It wouldn’t even have to be long.
The thing is, there are no in-betweens. The alternative to both of the situations is hopeless.
You are ‘stuck’
Jo and I have three children, 12 year old twins Friso and Lulu and the squidgy one, Cleo, age 8. We have all suffered my stroke. In the beginning, Johan felt that the whole kit and kaboodle was perched on his shoulders. Because it was. He not only had me to look after, care for and make decisions for, but also our children.
He didn’t ask for this!
He is a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He enjoys life to the fullest. Until this.
In the beginning, from my slanted, concrete, black & white view of the situation, I thought ‘how could he make decisions without conferring with me’?!
I was irate about this!
There are days when we both want to slam the front door and just keep walking. Throw in the towel on us and our marriage.
But we don’t.
I would say that it is only partially due to the children.
With time, I see that he didn’t mean to leave me out. He was trying to protect me. What he didn’t understand is that I wanted to be involved with all decisions to do with our children.
I needed it!
So, we are stuck. I would go out on a limb to say that it’s a good place to be.
You are your basic primal self
My stroke caused a huge disruption in our lives. One that I only hope we can recover from.
Emotions are amplified when you are facing this amount of stress with your spouse. Things fly off the tips of our tongues much more fluidly than before.
You can potentially run into disastrous situations and before you know it, you are knee-deep in this thing, this vicious circle that encapsulates you both.
It’s like tiptoeing thru a battlefield, with every step just laced with potential to hit a landmine. Except that we are running carelessly. And dangerously.
My hope is, that with every day, we are rebuilding our lives and that we see the potential that was bestowed upon us. Potential to take the broken bits, even those that were already broken, and piece them, with the utmost of care, back together again.
Seeing the positives is something that, if we want to make it work, we have to recognise.
Likewise, my recovery is not just physical. It’s cognitive. It’s verbal. And it’s emotional. To fully recover, it will take me years and that’s only if I continue to do the work.
To this very day, we have suffered a lopsidedness that is taking all we have to overcome.
While that may or may not happen, the dream of us sitting as two oldies on the front porch swing, I, for one, am going to venture to say that it’s just because we don’t have a porch.
PS: For you, Johan, thanks for your encouragement to tell my stories, even the tricky ones….and for always standing by me & with me.
