Are You Lost? If the eerie sensation of walking along a narrow hallway and feeling like I’m about to disconnect my feet from my body were not enough, people asking me if I’m lost almost makes me lose my mind, but I hold my breath and say, “I’m fine.” Walking around above any first floor is even worse because that’s when I feel I’m about to lose ground and quickly move to hold on to any wall or object nearby. I don’t even try to use escalators yet because when I did try, I felt I’d pass out or start bawling out on the spot. At first, even using an elevator was terrifying, and I felt more claustrophobic than anything, and forget about looking out to the building next door, or looking down from any upper floor. I’d rather die right on the spot. People look at me and grudgingly say, “I’d never would’ve known you had a stroke.” Others say, “I never would’ve thought you had a stroke. You’re doing/look great.” But what I really want to tell them is: You have no idea the hell I’ve been through, or how hard I’ve had to work every single day since. I may not be lost in the physical sense, but I’m lost in every other way, and only I know what that is like; how hard it is; and how I feel about still being around when I almost wasn’t. Some people almost attack me because I survived while some loved one was bedridden for eight years and blah, blah, but I know for sure that could’ve been me as well, but I made a promise to do everything in my power to get back on my feet no matter the pain. Walking on Clouds There are times when I feel like my former self, normal, I guess, but that is rarely the case anymore. When I get out of bed, I have to move slowly and gently and not really move away from my bed till everything around me is completely still. At least now I’m ok walking around in the mornings but cannot do so once dusk shows up because I feel completely unbalanced, dizzy. Forget about trying to do any walking at night, at least not by myself. I recall when I couldn’t walk if I saw water on the sidewalks, or if the sidewalks had any metals. My brain totally resisted. I felt like I was glued to the ground. I once went to the beach and climbed over one hundred stairs each way, and on the way up, I even carried a bunch of shells. On the beach, I was rock skipping and did just fine, and I was surprised, but not really. A couple or few times I thought I’d had it, but I kept looking for the next and biggest shell. It’s still difficult to get out of the house and walk because even familiar people look like strangers to me, and I feel my feet getting weak for no reason, and I must be careful not to make any sudden moves or turns, or I’ll be crawling around all over town. Sometimes I think my world is upside down, and I’m walking on clouds and not on the ground.
