9.The Hand's Rehab Routine is That Nothing is Routine

Every morning at 06:00hrs, I awake and quickly down a cup of green tea, egg white only omelet and toast. This cuisine is complimented by the ingestion of morning medications. Following that feast, I put on the tennies, sneak outside and take a brisk morning walk[Mike] weather permitting, which is nearly every day in Southern Cal. Returning home, I lay on the living room floor and start to count off 15 sit ups[Michael] followed by 25 push ups[Mr. Murphy this is reality checking in]. Actually it’s not that much of a departure from the truth. I can count to 25, got to keep the mental acuity, whether they’re accompanied by any physical regimen is another matter.
Well it’s almost fall here in San Diego. The leaves don’t change much here during fall, one can gauge the advent of the seasons by the length of pants worn It usually ends up being the misplaced Midwesterners, the Packers or Vikings fans who will try to confuse the seasonal signals by wearing shorts and T shirts through all four; During autumn and winter after they have already acclimated to our seasons and show tail-tale signs of a shiver or two. At that point, I like to taunt them a bit by putting on a sweater & coat & remarking about the chill in the air.
So I stay indoors with my devices and gadgets, attempting to revitalize my left arm and hand. My physical therapist gave me a section of this color coded elastic band, like a green translucent piece of inner tube. These bands come in different colors representing different tensile strengths. One needs to simply and carefully tie one end of the green rubber band around a door knob, close the door, and outside of the room of the closed door, go through a series of routines and exercises designed to strengthen the arm.The next device is this ooze named,’Theraputty’--more like silly putty on steroids. Theraputty also comes in different colors, tan through black, representing different densities and levels of resistance. My occupational therapist instructed me to use the putty as often as I can tolerate to help bring the feeling sensation back to my hand at least at the epidermal level. You can roll it, squeeze it, and knead it through your fingers-actually kind of fun. After the fun & games, it’s time to develop ‘Popeye’ fingers. I do this with a device called ‘Gripmaster’, a spring loaded hand grip machine that comes in varying tensions, with individual springs for each finger. This is not your typical stainless steel pretzel, with handles that you used in high school. It’s pretty high tech, some models & makes have adjustable tensile strength per each finger

The coup d’etat of all my routines involves the guitar itself. What is the worst instrument to be in close proximity when someone is first learning it and practicing on a daily basis? Tuba, Drums? –No, I contend it is the violin. How did the families Bell, Rabin, Menuhin, or Grapelli put up with their young prodigy’s practice regimen? Oh those screechy, scratchy, and slurred notes send chills through my spine with just the thought. While I don’t even begin to claim a remote association of talent level to these artists I will admit that my practice annoys me greatly almost to the point of mild depression. To remedy this, I took an old sock and tied it around the neck. No, not mine, the guitar’s- to muffle the sound while I go through my routine of finger picking patterns in hopes to create new neural pathways and muscular motor memory
check that D string,
Michael

8.Squeaky wheels that go ungreased become irratating

My friends have critiqued these letters, saying that they are not informative enough, detailed in the early stages of stroke recovery. I chose by design to not delve into the intricacies of my early or immediate recovery following the stroke.What I will admit is that it put a severe emotional, financial, and logistical burden on my family, friends, and loved ones. Very few were left unscathed or uninvolved and my sense of indebtedness and thankfulness becomes overwhelming at times. I hope to honor them all with a complete recovery and to demonstrate to other stroke victims that there is a return to some semblance of normalcy, when you feel empowered enough to write about subjects such as public transportation ordeals.
At this point I must give credit to two organizations that were pivotal in my recovery, first, the San Diego Brain Injury Foundation: (sdbif.org) and the ABI (acquired brain injury classes) held at a local community college here in San Diego. After going to my first ABI class, I felt-at last here I am with people who understand what I’ve been going through, I could just look them in the eye and they knew! During my first class, I was asked to introduce myself and give a brief synopsis of what I had been through. So I stood up and in AA’ish fashion said, “Hi I’m Mike and I had a stroke and I can’t play my guitar anymore’. What I had failed to sense/realize is that there were people there who were struggling with simply the ability to stand up so quickly from a school desk or working with aphasia problems and could barely speak a few words. I was first in the line to sign up for the humility101 class; almost passed
Another reason for not suggesting links or referrals to other websites or agencies is that. Treatment for stroke victims, is constantly in flux and should be tailored to meet the individual requirements, desires, or goals. The key word in the Brain’s ability to recover from a trauma is ‘plasticity’- the ability of the brain to form new neural pathways, to take over or supplement those initially damaged. Had I been more attentive to what my physical and occupational therapists were saying and demonstrated a bit more fortitude to their assignments, I might be performing in that coffee house instead of preparing for it
Besides becoming acquainted with all the appropriate agencies in your area, I would also strongly suggest to become proactive through all phases of your rehabilitation. Once again I would have to acknowledge a key advantage that I had, as mentioned in earlier sections, I’m from a large Irish Catholic family, 6 sisters and 2 brothers,’ the Fighting Murphys’, no not the Sullivans. The full brunt force of the platoon Murphy clan came to my aid, assistance, and advocacy. Without their help, instead of typing words on this keyboard, I probably would have felt pen in hand and would be writing other words on cardboard placards, looking for unused street corners. Yes I am blessed, always have been-seldom acknowledged it.
You really need that electronic tuner?
Mike

7.Schizophrenia,blue meanies or blue tooth

I have 2 degrees and a credential in the behavioral sciences, so when it comes to life’s little oddities I imagine, I’m good- I can handle this. But all the sheepskins from UCLA to SUNY can barely prepare the novice for the experience of riding public transportation.I’m sitting across the bus isle and I’m witnessing someone having what I think is an imaginary conversation to an empty seat. So what would the great Schmoloe do? Attempt to engage, make it a three way exchange, and deduce a proper diagnosis? No, instead I observed more and noticed that not only was this person’s volume level fluctuating, but also that he had some device hanging from or into his ear. Foiled again! Technology scores one over on the science of psychology.- -.
What I have unwontedly become to accept is an overall sense of rudeness by those who use public transportation, especially when it comes to cell phone calls. I don’t know what happens to most people once they place that phone up to their ear. They become completely oblivious to their immediate world and practically with an aire of grandeur and pomposity expect those within earshot to absorb their every word, most of which equates to mindless chatter.
My next complaint is that I do not wish to experience an olfactory replay of someone’s previous meal. I am basically a timid person and having been raised Catholic, I carry an innate sense of guilt. I do not want fingers pointed at me for allegedly having my finger pulled. The cardinal rule for public transportation lies within its name-public-it’s not your exclusive ride, you share the bus or trolley car with twenty or more people. You don’t choose the music or the volume, no smoking, eating, or drinking. We’re all Bozos on this bus, looking to get from point A to B.
your a and b are a little flat,
mike