I fell and fell and fell, almost right in a row in 2020 and 2021, after I moved to Oregon. So each time, I went to the unsavory rehab centers and the physical therapists said, “75% fear, 25% muscle weakness.” I did the assigned exercises but, to no avail, I fell again. As a former runner, my problem had to be fixed. A few days ago, after six weeks of physical therapy, I finally walked, albeit just five steps.Â
“Hurray,” Bobbie, my caregiver, said. “Good job.”
I sighed because that really was not a good job, but thanked her anyway, with the plastered smile on my face. I was pretending; that’s all that was.
I started to think about that fear and how it applies to most stroke survivors’ lives.
One person in a support group who walks with a cane said that one of the airport personnel directed her to the escalator, instead of the elevator, and she turned away in fear, ready to be directed again to the elevator.
I wondered, “Was that fear talking? Is the 75% a constant almost every time?”
It used to be that my greatest fear was looking back and seeing that fear guided my decisions, but I did the task at hand anyway. Except for heights and snakes, I was afraid of little else. Now, fear has overtaken me completely, and not just in walking, including, but not limited to, a cringeworthy fear of:
- choking on food or drink
- falling of the shower bench and smashing my head against the shower wall
- having another stroke
- dying alone
- getting my good and only hand chopped up in the paper shredder
- experiencing earthquakes and tsunamis
- having a person not understand because of aphasia
- leaving the water running when I am already in bed and flooding the place
- and, of course, escalators
There is a difference between fear and phobia, as I understand it. Fear is a typical reaction to a threat while a phobia, a type of anxiety disorder, leads to a fear response even when you’re not in danger. Thus, I have fears, not phobias.
75% fear. Remember it, expect it, and, as we as stroke survivors always say, “You’re not alone.”
