One year anniversary.

One year ago I had a stroke.  Soon after I went into my doctors office (if you are in Seattle and need an excellent neurologist -- send me an email). Unable to walk straight, unable to stay awake and alert for more than a couple hours, entirely overwhelmingly terrified with how my future had just changed...  my doc cleared boxes off an exam table (he had just moved into a new office), told me I wasn't on the right meds (given to me a week before by the hospital), told me they had misdiagnosed my type of stroke (nerds), and then looked me in the eye and said " In one year you won't even know this happened."  Meaning that I would have no visible outward remnants of part of my brain being dead.  I remember thinking he WAS NUTS... but he wasn't.  Today I am close to how I was pre-stroke.  Other than I weigh less, have a bit of short term memory spaciness, my muscle mass is different, I say things "differently" at times, and am on cursed cursed prescription drugs.  But who's to say I wouldn't be a little ditzy and tongue-tied at this point anyway? 
There always will be the life shift that happened on that day.  I went from being in control of everything... farm, kids, finances, future -- to being in charge of not hitting the door jamb with the left side of my body when I walked through a door.  I learned to accept help from others.   My way of looking at life, disability, and independence took a tumble toward the real.  You know, that we are not actually in control?  I am very good at ignoring the unpleasant.  Probably why I can own an old house... I can just merrily trudge through my home repair to-do list as an oblivious optimist.  I read sometimes that when people survive something drastic they change their look on life. ( I have Tim McGraw's "Live Like You Were Dying, " going through my head right now).  I thought all these life changing thoughts for about nine months and then realized : I wouldn't do anything different.  This is the life I would lead if I knew I was going to die in a year.  All the mistakes I've made, all the successes, my failed marriage... I wouldn't do it differently.  I've got great kids, love where we live, have always had jobs that were ones I picked for interest and luckily supported me.  I have not solved any world issues.  I don't know how to stop young men from taking guns and harming strangers.  I have not found the cure for cancer.  But I have lived, gave friends hugs, had long conversations with my ma, laughed until I peed my pants (wait, should I be typin' that?), watched my kids grow with pride and love.  I guess I don't record what is important to me anymore as the accomplishments that list my resume, and I used to.  That is not what I will take to my grave, and that is certainly not what I thought of when I was in the hospital waiting for my stroke to do its damage.
Best to you all.