After my stroke, I went to a psychiatrist to help me deal with my newfound physical and mental conditions. After a couple of sessions, I was harshly told by him, (and kind of smugly) that the ‘old Noelle’ was dead. The doctor said that I was a new person now with my new body and the ‘old Noelle’ was dead. He said I needed to accept that and move on. After the session, it became a running joke within the family. I would turn to everyone and say ‘well, The old Noelle is dead…’. My mom and I laughed at the statement. It was just so final. I’m okay with the disabilities and recovery but dead?
For me, the information was just too soon. Now, looking back, it was stated so harshly and final. In a way, he was correct. It’s just that his delivery was so firm. I needed to hear the hard truth. The ‘old Noelle’ really was gone. She’s still inside me, but there’s a new perspective and a new body, a new set of skills, a new direction that my life has taken. I need to embrace this and go with it. Part of the beauty in God’s design is that we don’t always know what’s coming next. We just have to have faith. We have to rely on … And we know in all things God work for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28.
I absolutely love to write. Writing gives me time to collect my thoughts on a subject and form an opinion. Since the stroke, I have had plenty of time to ask myself opinions on life, struggles and disabilities. Just as my psychiatrist said…’the old Noelle is dead’, but the ‘new Noelle’ still loves to write. I have just had to find a new way to do it. I do it now with my talk-to-text and my index finger. Noelle is not completely dead. She has to make many adjustments to the things that she loves to do. Other activities, I do need to accept I won’t be able to do again. I don’t look for sympathy, it’s acceptance and honesty with myself and others. There are many activities I won’t be able to do again or it will be a very long time before I do it again.
Elizabeth Kubler Ross identified five stages of grief by studying individuals dealing with their terminal prognosis. After any major medical trauma, more often than not, a loss has occurred. The loss could be a movement, a limb, skills, a future, dreams, or memories to name a few. All of these losses can trigger grief in a person. The goal is to work through these stages to come out the other side and find acceptance. Acceptance of where you are, whatever the ‘new’ you is.
Denial- Maybe you doubt the prognosis or the major medical trauma has happened to you. This stage can be quick and fleeting and is usually a temporary defense for an individual.
Anger– Anger with the diagnosis or future. Frustrated with the situation in which you find yourself.
Bargaining- Negotiating the terms of the ‘new’ you. Haggling what terms are acceptable to you.
Depression- Sad and unhappy with the your current circumstances. Despondent about the medical event in your life. You definitely realize what was once, is no longer.
Acceptance- You come to terms with the current situation. You recognize an uncontrollable situation and don’t attempt to fight it.
Dr. Eyal Heled, in his introduction of Mind in Rehabilitation, tells of how a professor once suggested a person with a physical disability possesses a mind that lives in two worlds. One world is the ordinary world that you know (or have known) where life takes place. The second world is the world of individuals with disabilities trying to exist in the normal ordinary world. If you have suffered a major medical episode, you may feel so distant from that ordinary world. We are all trying to get back to the ordinary world. Some never return to it. It is a horse pill to swallow. We are driven to insanity trying to fit in a world where we don’t anymore. A person with a disability must recognize there are two worlds. Some might not ever get back to the ‘old’ world they knew.
The ‘old’ you is coming from the first world. The ‘new’ you is just forming from the second. As you build the ‘new’ you, you can decide the pieces you keep and the pieces that go away. In my recovery, I am relearning to walk again. One of the things I have come to love is my nightly walk. I never did this before the stroke. Even if I walked perfectly and never needed to practice walking again, I would still take my nightly walk because I enjoy it. You’ll discover things along the way, that will help form the ‘new’ you. Keep those and let go of the ones that you don’t like.
The ‘old’ you is retired. The core foundation of you will always remain the same. Unfortunately, change has come knocking on your door. There may be new ways that you do things now and that is OK. We know what’s coming next makes us extraordinary. We don’t have the overview to the situation, but we have a loving God that we trust. We have a promise that all things work for the our good. We can rest knowing that this tragedy is for our benefit or the benefit of others. It is a positive event for us in the long run. Acceptance is the goal of the ‘new’ you.
