I think it was December 2017 when my husband now asked me — a woman who said she would never marry again — to marry him, a widower. I immediately said yes. He was a wonderful man, honorable, articulate, intelligent; he had a good heart. On top of all that he was handsome and a wonderful singer. In January 2018 we married and enjoyed bliss until February 2020 when we went to a friend’s birthday celebration. As we were saying goodbye, my husband collapsed. When I think of a turning point in our lives I have to say it was that night.
Soon the pandemic was declared. Around four months later he asked me to take him to the hospital because he said he was dying. I couldn’t see anything wrong with him. I called his doctor who said I should take him. Then life changed. In August we noticed one of his legs was swollen. He had a stroke. We brought him for an MRI and verified he had a stroke that hit the frontal part of his brain causing him to have vascular dementia, a kind of heavy forgetfulness.
Since then my life has changed, too. I have become the manager of our lives, rearranging our furniture to accommodate his hospital bed. Hiring, watching, firing his caregivers. Finding out what he likes to eat and what he no longer likes. He used to hate spaghetti; now he loves it. He no longer likes music nor does he like to sing. He hates watching TV. Once he loved it. He no longer wears his glasses but I can tell he sees more clearly. But he no longer likes to read.
I also had a stroke when I was 57. The stroke was in my right brain, my creative side. My loud laughter disappeared and my writing style changed. I could not teach writing. For six years I was not well but I continued with my column upon advice of my close friends.
My daughters bought the medicines my doctor prescribed. When I bought them myself I realized I would have to spend P19,600 a month on them. I decided not to take them. “You risk another stroke,” my doctor said.
“I’ll take the risk,” I answered.
Determined to get well, I knitted complicated sweaters and made 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzles. These two activities slowly taught me to focus. Finally a friend introduced me to StemEnhance Ultra. He told me to take two capsules daily when I woke up around half-an-hour before breakfast. I did. They gave me an energy surge. After around eight months I heard a strange sound in my head then discovered that I wrote well again and laughed loud again. My real personality had returned thanks to StemEnhance Ultra. That made me sell it. It had saved my life. I keep taking and selling StemEnhance Ultra even if the price has gone up. I have not had a stroke again. Neither do I look nor feel 79 either. An unusual side effect: it makes you look a little younger than you are.
My husband doesn’t remember much. He recognizes me as his wife. He remembers the names of all his eight children by his first wife. But apart from that he remembers very little. I give him StemEnhance Ultra. Maybe that’s why he has days when he has good moods but there are days when he is angry. I put Tea Tree Oil on his temple. That helps him speak better and think better. Of course he takes the medicines the doctor prescribes. I especially appreciate the sleeping pills.
I love it when he sleeps not because I can sleep too, but because he always dreams when he sleeps. He dreams of himself as a person who stands up and walks on his own, one who is not reliant on his wheelchair. He walks and talks like he used to. Often he wakes up in a good mood because he feels independent again. Sometimes he dreams about going to a hearing and defending someone again. These dreams bring good days. Other times he accuses his caregiver and me of being “in cahoots” (his words) against him. Then he demands that I call a policeman so we can be accused of the crime. But he cannot remember the crime.
Trying to improve his focus, I Googled jigsaw puzzles. He doesn’t want to even try to do them. Instead I am the one now who has gotten almost addicted to them. Maybe it’s just to help me in my life as manager of our home and him. Maybe it’s my way of handling the harshness of reality, pushing that aside in favor of a puzzle that shows flowers blooming beautifully by a lake.
Now I also teach writing again. Those are the little things I do to build up the strength I need to laugh and live as we did before illness changed our lives.
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