Two weeks later

Dahlias

It's been two weeks since my hubby had his stroke, and what an amazing recovery I've been able to see him progress through. From being unable to talk at all, a very weak left side and unsteady gait, to what seems to be an almost complete recovery, all in two weeks. He's not really completely recovered, of course, but considering what might have been, it fills me with joy to be able to write this.

And there are many positive side effects to his stroke, believe it or not. The first and foremost is the obvious reminder of the fragility and brevity of our lives, and the admonition to make the most of each and every day, and to give thanks for each other. I have been reminded that my life would be very different without him, and without his ability to transcend this setback. Or is it even a setback?

What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise for which we are later, in the fullness of time and understanding, very grateful for! —Oscar Wilde

Sometimes we need something to give us a reason to get out of the rut of everyday life and clear out the cobwebs, so that we can accomplish whatever it is we want yet to achieve during our brief sojourn on this planet. Because of his stroke, I know that I am no longer living each day in complacency, thinking that I've got all the time in the world. Even though in this country we are still in the grip of the coronavirus, every day counts and needs to be spent in the best possible way. We won't travel this path again, and who knows what the future holds?

Yesterday I joined my friends Melanie and Dianne (and the very delightful dog Joe) for a lovely walk in Hovander Homestead Park in nearby Ferndale. From that link:

The park has been preserved to show the lives of 20th-century pioneers in the Northwest, as well as to preserve the history of the Hovander family. Hovander Homestead Park was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1974. 

I am amazed that I have only recently learned of this park, and the wonderful trails it provides for people and their dogs to enjoy. It is located on the Nooksack River and the old farmhouse and barn are also open (during non-pandemic times, at least) to the public for tours. We enjoyed a wonderful walk in the sunshine, with Joe bounding through the open spaces, some that allow for dogs to be off leash, and others that require them. 

There is also a demonstration garden that shows all the different plants that grow in the area, which includes a beautiful dahlia garden, where I took the picture at the top of this post. There is also a section that labels and identifies all the different plants that you might encounter in the nearby wilderness areas. We spent our morning enjoying being out and covering more than five miles in our wanderings. At one point, Joe and several other dogs took a dip in the Nooksack River at a boat launch. All the dogs were well behaved and looked like they were enjoying the day as much as we were.

I was gone from home for about four hours, and as usual when I come home these days, I worried a little about how SG was doing, but he's someone who likes to be independent and doesn't appreciate me being oversolicitous. And what did I find? He'd been busy all morning, taking out the trash, puttering around the kitchen, and getting in steps. He got more steps yesterday than I did, and I was outdoors walking! He was happy to see me, and I realized my fears were totally unfounded. He's going to be completely back to normal in another few weeks.

It will be a while before he attempts to drive, but he will be cautious and will do it safely, and in the meantime, I can continue to do any and all grocery shopping that we require. From where we were two weeks ago when this all happened, we have moved from me being the caregiver, to him back to taking care of me! As I write this, he's sleeping quietly next to me, and I'm sure that the clacking of the keys gives him a sense of normalcy, too. He's listened subliminally to that sound every Sunday morning now for more than a decade.

When we got together more than a quarter-century ago, when skydiving was the center of both of our lives, I never could have imagined who we would become in our later years. Although we still share stories with each other about those days, the people we have become in our late seventies is even more precious and meaningful to me than I would ever have thought possible. The scare of his stroke has reminded me once again how much I love and depend on him, and how much his sense of humor and way of living his life enriches my days and weeks and years. I am overflowing with gratitude for all my blessings, and I truly hope that we will have many more days and weeks and years together.

And with that, I've finished my Sunday morning post, and it's time to go out into the day with a renewed sense of the unfinished business of my own life, a trip to the coffee shop to sit outside in the sunshine with my friends in our lawn chairs, laugh together and look forward to more days of friendship and joy. Dear friends of my heart, you dear friends of the internet, please don't forget to give thanks for today, with all it brings to you. Today will only come along once. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things.