Je suis fatiguée…but not that kind of tired

Hello peeps, I hope you’re all enjoying the sunshine. Isn’t the world glorious once the sun is out and it’s warm?

I’ve been having some post stroke issues mainly to do with fatigue. I bloody hate it. It really ruins my day. Everything now seems to revolve around when brain fog will hit, and I have to plan rest phases and naps and meditation and god knows what around fatigue. Mmmpffff.

Also the rest of the fam have to kind of plan around it and it’s not fair on them and makes me feel really guilty.

I have definitely underestimated what it does to you. When they told me that all strokies have to deal with fatigue to a certain extent, I kind of thought what can be so bad about feeling tired. Just have a coffee and get on with it. But no no no no no….

Fatigue after stroke is Neurofatigue and it’s like jet lag and having overdone it in the gym and being a bit drunk and totally struggling to keep eyes open and get a sentence out of your mouth that actually makes sense. I find it scary because I don’t feel at all in control of my head, and that it happens to quickly is also a total bummer.

Like the other day, when we had a lovely hour or so in a National Trust property. Happy days and all good. Next thing I know, and we are literally talking seconds later, I feel like I cannot move anymore. My legs and arms are made out of lead and don’t want to follow my commands. I have to dig very very deep to carry on. I made it back to the car and pretty much just collapsed into it. It’s a horrible feeling of being powerless and useless and weak.

Luckily Andrew was there by my side and pep talked me all the way back home and managed the kids on his own so I could just give in to the fatigue. Not much choice anyway, as it rolls over you like a steam train with very little advance warning, and all one can do is surrender.

What freaks me out most is that I think I’ve reached peak of my recovery and am now plateauing. Getting used to the fact that this is my life now and I’ll have to cope with this until the day I die is something I have really struggled to get to terms with over the last few weeks. I never much had the why me blues, but recently I can’t stop thinking that I wish it had never happened and I was a fit and healthy 41 year old mum and wife.

But, on the other hand, there could be worse things in life and so it goes onwards and upwards (or straight onwards, at least not downwards!).

Je suis fatiguée really has taken on a new meaning!

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