Eighteen months. That's how long I was supposed to be sick. I remember a deep conversation I had with my husband. Most of the research says a stroke victim my age should take 18 months to recover. It was raining and I was still in Nebraska. By the time 18 months came along, I was already home and really upset when the fake milestone passed. We decided the studies didn't apply because those studied ran out of resources or gave up. What we didn't take into consideration was the severity of my stroke or that I'm me. My stroke was b-a-d, and I haven't met anyone with such bad effects as mine. I've heard of a young lady in California fighting a battle similar and a young man in Arkansas whose stroke was far worse than mine. Then there's the fact that I'm not taking this stroke thing lying down. I'm serious, even though I am typically in bed when I'm home. Every chance I get I am trying to get better. I guess you could say I'm a bit stubborn. Even people who have never heard my reclusive voice think I'm stubborn. It is funny how personality traits can be used for good or bad. But I digress... I intend to get better, eventually.