Monday, June 30, 2014

Brain Bleed

They thought I was having a brain bleed. I mean hospital staff. Actually, I was just taking a nap. There are times when trying to wake me up is an exercise in futility. I don’t know why. Stroke side effect? Med side effect? Chris tried to explain my bizarre behavior over the phone, but no luck. I was awakened by a needle in my left arm hitting a nerve. Good news, Chris. I finally found a way for you to awaken me…never mind. My arms were being outstretched as if I were a bird getting its wingspan measured. The man on my right ran and chased down the doctor—one of the nice ones, by the way. I narrowly avoided getting a scan of my head. I have been in the hospital far too often. I know this because staff are starting to recognize me. Long story short, don’t fall asleep in the hospital. The phlebotomists came in around 5 a.m. When I was living in the nursing home, they called them “vampires." I am a very difficult stick, meaning my veins are tiny. I got to go home that day, no thanks to me. I fell asleep again. Medical professionals want you to sleep unless you are in the hospital. Too deeply, anyway.

Sunday, June 22, 2014


(Note from Chris: Alison started this Sunday, June 15. She was in the hospital from June 13–17.)

I just want to be normal. I am writing today from the hospital, where I have been since Friday. I was supposed to have Botox, but went to the emergency department instead. My white blood cell count was a bit high, so poisoning myself that day was probably not the best idea. Monday afternoon was supposed to be my first-ever acupuncture appointment. I obviously saw enough needles to last me a week during my extended weekend away. Ha. Back to being normal. You would think physicians would be nice, but not exactly. I already feel extra anxious because I can’t talk and don’t need help feeling stupid. Yes, my magnesium and potassium were a bit low, which I’m guessing could’ve been because my food was withheld for three days…but I don’t know…I was not given the opportunity to ask the doctor. Best quote of my weekend: “I didn’t know hospitals were in the business of starving people to death.” That little gem can be attributed to Chris Wilson. The nurses and aides all did great—it’s just that I fell through some doctor-shaped cracks. I have intentionally not said which hospital. Those of you who know…know. I feel like if I could talk again, or could be normal, things would be different. I also think people in healthcare would be acutely aware of special needs situations, but alas.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014


I had my first counseling session this week. My first session ever. Yes, ever. It is really tricky getting my point across by, you know, not talking. I applaud my therapist wholeheartedly because she actually tried—and succeeded in—communicating with me. I am not satisfied with my current mode of communication. More often than not, I am trying to stick out my tongue. Not at anyone in particular. But after the stroke, I haven’t been able to stick out my tongue. The inability to lick my lips has necessitated more lip gloss. I’m so close, too. The last time I learned to stick out my tongue or talk, I didn’t have an overbite or brain damage. I will beat this thing. With or without my permission.

Friday, June 6, 2014

Gussied Up

I have thought for a long time that we women are always getting gussied up for each other. Maybe I think this because I’ve been married to the incomparable Chris Wilson for nearly 10 years. Or it may be because of unrealistic expectations. Especially after seeing Diane  Sawyer’s report on it. There was actually a study proving that less is more when it comes to makeup. Don’t get me wrong–I like Sephora a lot. A lot lot. I could continue, but I won’t. Yes, I was the one at the gym with all of my makeup on. Very light-handed. I’ve been wearing makeup since I was 14. You’d think I could give myself a pass, but I can’t. I have tried. You would think I could perhaps give myself a break here, but I cannot. Recently, I went dress shopping for my brother-in-law’s wedding. I’m still picky about what I wear. Maybe a little, but definitely not a lot although I don’t miss fitting rooms. There’s also the fact that I’m always in a wheelchair, for Pete’s sake. Who’s Pete? I have no idea, but I’m guessing Google does. I suppose it is just that I am way too hard on myself. And Cayte, no. The holes in my heart went undetected my whole life. They were ASDs and a PFO.

Monday, June 2, 2014