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Greetings from Charleston, SC! I’m here with the Brantleys on the apogee of a four-week road trip. I am taking a lot of movies which I can’t edit on my laptop because I don’t have room, so please be patient with me. I’ll get them up here mid-October, hopefully; or, rather, I’ll finish the video mid-October and it’ll be done uploading circa December 2010.

Anyway, Ben’s watching a football game and I’m twiddling my thumbs. Could somebody explain the pull of college football, please? Like, why would you want to watch Texas versus Texas Tech? We never went to any of those schools. Ben did live in Austin for about nine months, but he was never a fan of UT. So WHY do we need to sit through this? Sigh …

But there IS something I’d like to post about today, and that is the fourth anniversary of my (first) stroke! How am I doing? Well …

On the subject of noise and crowds, about the same. About the same with sunshine. The aphasia is almost completely gone, though I still detect it when I’m very tired. (At least I tell myself I do; it could just be ‘old age’.) The fatigue … let me tell you, if I ever get to heaven, it’s going to be a shooting range with YOU, Fatigue, standing in front of the target, and I will seek revenge.

I’ve started up a VERY small dose of Zoloft, which is all that I need. (3 1/8 mg per day, which is a quarter of the smallest pill they make, taken every other day.) It’s not for depression anymore, but for my initiation, and it helps. A lot. For example, I tried it (at a slightly higher dose) at the beginning of August and then, after consulting with my doctor, I decided to try switching to Effexor, which is supposed to very stimulating. It never crossed my mind that it might be better to wait until AFTER Vacation Bible School, which ran from August 3- 8 at Nederland Community Presbyterian Church, to do this. I showed up at 9am yawning and rubbing my eyes and then took my kids over to Calvary to do crafts; it didn’t work. I was so completely exhausted by the end of the week that I wasn’t sure I could even drive home. It was painful. I called Dr. Stapleton on Tuesday and said, “Help!” I guess I should’ve thought twice about quitting it right after Thanksgiving last year, when I confused the effects of the lack of Zoloft with the effect of bleeding barrels of blood out my butt, because I could’ve had a much more enjoyable nine months. Live and learn, I guess.

Anyway, there IS a good thing to report four years post-first-stroke: I’m learning to deal with my deficits.

First of all, I’ve started napping; not all the time, but when I’m really exhausted. I’ll lie on the couch, put a TV show on, and conk out about a half hour into it. I’m kind of wondering why I couldn’t do this until now, because it feels SO good. I also wonder WHY it feels so good; half the time, I’m not even *really* sleeping. I fast forward through commercials, for heaven’s sake! But I wake up an hour and a half later and feel much more awake. Here’s to naps!

Second of all, I’ve learned to simply leave if I’m in a situation I’m uncomfortable with. Case in point occured last week, when Ben and I went to a potluck at his church, Good Shepherd Lutheran, in Columbia, SC. We walked in not planning to stay, but Ben began talking with people he knew from way back when and I snuck off to get myself some food. Ben saw me and joined me in grabbing some lunch, and all of a sudden we were part of The Potluck.

Potlucks are rather noisy. This one consisted of about 100 people and sitting and talking in a big room (which is good) with no acoustic insulation — not even any carpet (which is bad). I made it through lunch, which was even fun — we sat with Ben’s friend Mitch and his adorable nine-month-old daughter — but after that I could feel myself fading. Fading isn’t the right word … a panic was rising within me. I didn’t want to embarrass Ben by being rude, but I couldn’t stay there. It was too noisy. I felt like the noise was going to attack me.

So I walked out. I sat on the swings on the playground until Ben was ready to leave.

I talked to Ben about it afterwards. He said that, actually, he was glad I’d left because it gave him a chance to talk about me with one of the very nice ladies I’d met earlier at the service. I frowned; I don’t like being the topic of conversation when I’m not there to eavesdrop. “I said you’re doing well,” he said. “And that in some respects, you’re improving remarkably well. You wouldn’t have left a year ago; you’d have stayed and clung to my arm. I don’t mind that you left; on the contrary, I’m proud of you. It is really noisy in there!” I beamed.

So there you have it. I’m able to nap and able to walk out on my husband. What are YOU proud of?