Putting It All Together

Last summer I “tried my hand” at rowing a boat. My husband Ian and I were staying with family at the Hood Canal in Washington State. I picked my way carefully over the pebbled beach and climbed into the rowboat while Ian held it steady. He rowed away from shore and handed me the oars – one at a time, of course, because I had to position my affected hand on the left oar.

I tried to row the boat. The left oar flailed.

First uncoordinated attempt: note different oar positions.

I needed to help my affected side through a few strokes so it could get the feel of the circular motion. I gave the right oar to Ian and placed my right hand over my left, guiding myself through the motions -- dipping and pulling, pushing and leaning.

When that felt comfortable, I traded oars with Ian. Now I observed my right side doing the same motions. I felt how the oar pushed on my thumb as I reached forward, and pulled on my index joint as I leaned backward. When I had that sensation locked in my mind, I took both oars.

My healthy side made longer, stronger strokes, my husband pointed out. I eased up on the strong side, allowing my affected side to set the pace, consciously synchronizing my movements.

Row, row, rowing the boat!

Next thing I knew, I was rowing the boat gently down the lake – for about 10 strokes, then my affected hand tired and wouldn’t hold the oar anymore.

I repeated the exercise a couple times over the next few days. By day three I had muscle memory and was able to start off with coordinated strokes. It felt so good to exercise my body this way!

Dear Santa: a rowing machine might be a great therapy tool for me to build strength and re-coordinate muscles.

One Wedding and a Funeral

I took two significant trips this year – one to England to attend a funeral, and the second to the East Coast to be in a wedding. Leaving town means missing my four weekly therapy sessions, which keep my physical discomfort to a minimum; so I’ve developed a strategy for dealing with muscle stiffness while traveling.

Following my own advice (Travel Tips for Survivors), I stayed in comfortable, accessible accommodations for multiple nights, and identified a local gym. Using a gym worked out the kinks from the plane ride and kept my energy level steady. I’ve learned from experience that surrendering to the notion that I need to rest for a couple days after a long plane ride simply allows my muscles to stiffen and lethargy to overcome me.

From the gym window in Kent County, England, I watched a horse frolicking in a green, green field. At the gym in Charlotte, North Carolina, my workout was interrupted by a fire drill; while we waited in the parking lot for the “all-clear,” my friend and her fiancé practiced their first dance, giving me a privileged first peek.  

After the wedding my husband and I drove to Canada for a week in a cottage by a lake. I mustered my courage and got into a paddle boat, and an inner tube being towed behind a pontoon. But the triumph was climbing into a canoe and paddling – better on the left than the right, but enough for my husband to feel the contribution.

I can paddle a boat, canoe?

Travel Tips for Survivors

I went to Europe for a month and have bounced back into my normal routine at home within a couple of weeks. My therapists say the break from rehab did my body good: My spine looks straighter and, mentally, I'm recharged. 

I had anticipated that frequent changes of accommodation would be exhausting. The time we spent in England changing location every couple nights was tough. By the end of that week my affected hand had reached its limit and was no longer able to help stabilize bags that needed stuffing and zipping.

Tip #1: Minimize change of accommodations.

Left: Climbing to the sundeck. Right: Walking the gangplank.

Having anticipated Tip #1, I thought traveling in France by houseboat would be a great idea. Unpack once, and your bedroom goes with you. I was able to maneuver better than I expected around the boat. But it was a confined space and if we moored for the night along a steep bank, I was trapped on the boat. This meant I didn't get much exercise, and by the time we came home, I was very stiff.

Tip #2: Allow space in your environment and schedule to keep up a minimum exercise routine.

Left: Carrying groceries. Right: With my nieces in Lutzelbourg.

 
Using a disability scooter meant less exercise as well, but having it allowed me to participate on bike rides and walks, and to carry my share of luggage and groceries. Ramps and lifts were available everywhere I needed them; European accommodations for the disabled seem to be on par with American standards. The best thing about traveling disabled is the way I zipped through customs and security lines — to the front of the line every time! It's the one thing in my life post-stroke that goes faster than it did before.

Tip #3: Explore tools that help you participate.

When in Rome

Physical therapists in rehab made predictions I would be "walking" within six months. I took that to mean "normally." But at 21 months I still limp and tire easily. I've started walking regularly around the block to improve my form and stamina. This half-mile took 38 minutes my first attempt and I had to lie down for 40 afterward.

My husband and I share a passion for world travel. More than any other recovery goal, I want to walk with my husband when we're on our adventures. Together we have trailed rhinos through the African bush and explored the ruins of Cambodia's Angkor Wat. We have braved the crowded streets of Old Delhi during Ramadan and hefted packs along muddy trails in a Peruvian rain forest.

I try not to think about whether I'll be able to carry weight over rough terrain again. My husband says my condition won't stop us from doing what we want. "We may have to do it differently than before," he says. "We may have to hire Sherpas."

I'm trying to focus on a more achievable goal. I remember a glorious day we had wandering Rome, encountering ruins so common they weren't even marked on the map. We probably walked 10 miles that day. I'd like to be able to walk like that again – with my eyes taking in the world around me rather than focusing on my feet. Three miles … just three miles like that.

I've cut my time around the block to 26 minutes and I don't have to lie down afterward. Both my pace and rate of improvement are agonizingly slow. But Rome wasn't built in a day … probably not even in 21 months.