A major stroke is life altering. Know the warning signs and get help fast.

Numbness or weakness in your face, arm, or leg, especially on one side

Confusion or trouble understanding other people

Trouble speaking

Trouble seeing with one or both eyes

Trouble walking or staying balanced or coordinated

Dizziness

Severe headache that comes on for no known reason

Don't ignore stroke warning signs – even if you have just one warning sign or if symptoms are mild or go away.

Don't wait! Every minute counts.

Call 911 or emergency medical services (EMS) if you have one or more symptoms for more than a few minutes. An ambulance can get you to a hospital without delay.

Check the time when symptoms begin. This is important information to share when you arrive at the hospital

We're Here! : Brain Injury Survivors: Photographers & Artists

Running out of ideas for your 365 project? Join We're Here!

Strobist: AB1600 with gridded 60X30 softbox camera right. AB800 with gridded HOBD-W overhead. AB800 with 7 inch reflector camera left. Triggered by Cybersync.

You can curse. You can scurry for shelter. Or you can open your arms and invite Mother Nature to dance. Bret Hart Series No. 1

Crazy Tuesday: Shallow DOF

My dad at a medical appointment at the VA hospital.

After 390 days we were able to visit my dad at the nursing home. In my Ice Cube voice - today was a good day.

On this day I honor a man who has always shown me that his family is his top priority. In spite of his present circumstances he still manages to always ask her first how she dong when he sees her. His strength continues to inspire and give me comfort when I am feeling down. He hasn't complained. His optimistic attitude keeps me encouraged. More and more I can see at age 89, his days are slowly coming to an end. He has led a good life and done well for his family.

I am so blessed he survived COVID-19. I am so thankful and grateful for the care and attention the nursing home provided during those difficult times. He has not complained through it all. We are fortunate to have resume in-person visits. I hug him a lil bit more tighter and give him extra kisses each visit.

Happy Father's Day Pop Pop. You are truly one in a million.

{Random Thought 6.20.21}

I rode my tricycle today. I didn’t go too far and my brain has trouble communicating with my arms so when I think right, I turn left. Ugh…

Piper is 4 and has hemiplegic cerebral palsy, affecting her right side. She wears a hinged AFO and often a Benik brace on her right hand. www.fraasefamily.blogspot.com

Piper is 4 and has hemiplegic cerebral palsy, affecting her right side. She wears a hinged AFO and often a Benik brace on her right hand. www.fraasefamily.blogspot.com

Piper is 4 and has hemiplegic cerebral palsy, affecting her right side. She wears a hinged AFO and often a Benik brace on her right hand. www.fraasefamily.blogspot.com

Piper is 4 and has hemiplegic cerebral palsy, affecting her right side. She wears a hinged AFO and often a Benik brace on her right hand. www.fraasefamily.blogspot.com

Happy Father's Day. In Memory of my dad.

me holding my father's hand. taken one month after my mom passed away. that day he must have remembered she had passed because he told me he wished he had told her more often how much he loved her and what a good wife she was. I took this picture to remind myself of what a wonderful day it was for me to hear him speaking so deeply of the love he had for her. {Random Thought 6.15.25}

Happy {Heavenly} Birthday Dad. photo taken 2018

As I look at this photo of us, These thoughts come to mind,

Daddy, you left me some very beautiful memories to remind me of how much you loved me and loved our family. I am reminding myself today especially to let that love and those memories be my guide today, tomorrow and always because you are no longer here. Although I cannot see you or physically touch you, I feel your presence and know that you are always by my side. {Random Thought 1.17.25)

When she’s ready, Raul lifts her up and walks her to the bathroom to get her ready for the day. With him holding her, she is able to stand, along with the help of a brace on her foot. Since the paralyzed leg is stiff, she is able to use it as a brace to hold her weight as she moves her other foot forward.

In honor of Black History Month (February). I salute my father, a two-time war veteran (Vietnam {Conflict} War & Korean War).

It wasn't until after his death while going through his papers that I learned in addition to many medals he earned, one was a Purple Heart for an act of bravery during one of those wars.

This photo was taken of him at the Memorial for Tuskegee Airman in Walterboro, South Carolina. On this day he shared as a young boy, watching the men clean the "red tips" on their airplanes is what inspired him to want to go into the military and fly around in airplanes. Although he didn't become a pilot (he did not have a college education), he became a radio operator which placed him in the "cockpit" along with the pilot and co-pilot.

DAY 2: OUR BODY, OUR BREATH

I think it's SO common for us to hold our breath in photos but that disconnects us from our body and enhances any anxiety in our body that might be coming up. How did focusing on the breath feel for you?

As I received my IV antibiotics therapy this afternoon I sat up with my hand resting on my chest. With my eyes closed, I breathed a long, slow breath in through my nose, which I held a few seconds before letting it go in a long, slow exhale through my mouth.

Breathe in… breathe out.

The air felt warm coming in through my mask, & even warmer as it escaped around my tongue which I kept planted firmly against the roof of my mouth.

Breathe in… breathe out.

It’s something I used to do with more regularity, usually at the start of a meditation, but it’s something I haven’t done in months. Maybe even in years.

Breathe in… breathe out.

Last week, Facebook reminded me how 2 years had passed since I was released from the mental health unit at Abbotsford Regional Hospital following a suicide attempt in my car that was parked in the driveway of my Mom’s. On the 1st day of my hospitalization I was confined on suicide watch, in an empty room save for a broken toilet in the corner, a plastic mattress on the floor, & a camera looking down at me. That afternoon I sat breathing, & reciting the Ho’Oponopono prayer again & again. Eventually, I started to sob. It was both cathartic & terrifying.

Breathe in… breathe out.

It was an easier habit to occupy during that hospitalization, without the trappings of a smart phone to mindlessly scroll through as you weren’t allowed to have them. Today took me back to those moments, moments I didn’t have during the hospitalization after my stroke, mainly because they don’t take your smart phone away after a stroke. Only after a mental collapse.

WHAT ARE SOME OTHER TOOLS FOR GROUNDING THAT YOU USE IN OTHER PARTS OF YOUR LIFE?

Ponder what tools or actions you take part in to get grounded. Maybe it's making a cup of tea. Maybe it is feeling your feet on the ground or doing mountain pose? Maybe it is noticing your senses. Or maybe it is a crystal you like to hold or a stone in your pocket that helps you get grounded. List them here! And then ponder...could we include some of these as part of our process this month? Could we make ourselves a cup of tea as we're reading the class activities and get grounded before we take our selfie? Or feel the ground beneath our feet before we pick up our camera?

Sometimes the bandages on my feet aren’t secure & they end up falling off. I then have to rewrap them, as I had done everyday since I hurt my foot in early July until I went to the ER on August 14. The act of treating the wounds myself was meditative. I’d sit in silence, gently rubbing medicated cream into my feet before wrapping gauze around the toes which I secured with medical grade first aid tape. These motions were meditative as my mind flowed to the present moment, only getting frustrated when the tape didn’t rip cleanly from the roll.

Breathe in… Breathe out.

(275/365).

This was originally posted on Instagram.

Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.

Performs at the Great Hall in Toronto

Waiting for the miracle to come.

This is a joiner collage I made when I was hospitalized back in February following a stroke I had on January 31. I took a fair number of photos when I was in the hospital, as it was fairly easy to do, but I was often so tired that I didn’t do much written reflection as I posted them. I like making joiners - photographer David Hockney is a British pop artist painter who first started doing these back in the 1970s / 80s. They give the image an analytical cubist feel, similar to the paintings created by painters Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque over 110 years ago.

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#sick #stroke #strokesurvivor #strokerecovery #heartdisease #heartdiseaseawareness #highbloodpressure #diabetes #diabetic #highbloodsugar #anxiety #anxietyproblems #depression #depressionhelp #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthmatters #stress #joinercollage

#finearts #student #selfie #selfies #selfietime #writing #nonfiction #memoir #visualdiary #visualdiary_art #photooftheday

This was originally posted on Instagram.

HOW HAS IT BEEN EMERGING INTO THIS EXPERIENCE?

Today's prompt is all about emerging into the process and our photo using one of my favourite creative ways to take a photo. It's a great one to help us emerge a bit more into the photo and this experience. How has it been emerging into the experience as a whole far?

Today was truly tiring. By the time I got to my Mom’s, I wanted nothing more than to just sleep the night away. All day, it felt like I could do nothing right. This morning, I slept in. Again. It’s what usually happens in my life when my insomnia leaves me tossing and turning, endlessly scrolling on my smartphone or thumbing through a half-finished book. I don’t bother having the television on, although sometimes I watch a movie or television show on my phone. Before my stroke sometimes I’d lay on my side and sketch in a sketchbook, fooling around with different coloured pencil techniques. But since my stroke I haven’t even done that, even though my physiotherapists have said it would be good to help rebuild the connections between my brain and my body. I don’t even enjoy myself that way some people do late at night. The stroke impacted my ability to be a man, and the various heart and antidepressants they have me on also leave me feeling empty inside when it comes to intimacy. Reflecting back, I don’t think I even took my morning medication. And by the time I was ready to face the world, it was after 1 in the afternoon.

I first went to Peace Arch Hospital where the elevator ride to the sixth floor felt like it took a hour, stopping at almost every floor with little to no people riding with me. I went to the IV Therapy clinic, to get a new copy of the bloodwork requisition form I needed, as I’d misplaced the one I was given a week ago to take with me to my 2:30 LifeLabs appointment. The nurse obliged, disappearing for awhile into a back office before coming back down the hall with the all important paper: my passport for another month of weekly tests. The bright light of the afternoon sun had broken through the clouds and shone down the corridor, making me squint a little & placing a hazy aura of white light around her silhouetted figure. I thanked her & left, feeling confident I’d get to the lab on time. Thankfully I did make it to LifeLabs on time, But LifeLabs rejected the form I was given, as they were adamant that there is no CP6 test the form asked for (which I later googled & learned stands for Chemistry Profile 6, or Chemistry Panel 6 in British Columbia). So I had to leave, with the hope I could get a third form during my IV appointment at 4.

I next went to Choices Market, as my Mum wanted one of their cooked chickens, which they didn’t have. So I got some slices of their own baked maple glaze ham, and a few other things before dropping it all off at Mum’s just in time to head back to the hospital for day 50 of my antibiotics IV. The same nurse who gave me the purportedly wrong form found it funny that LifeLabs didn’t know what CP6 was, and I heard her in the hallway joking about it with a few other nurses. They felt bad I’d been sent away. She also changed the bandages on my feet and toes, taking time to gently clean each toe. She told me that she was going to book time for me with a wound specialist on Friday to remove some of the hardened calloused skin that if left on the foot could stop the wounds from fully healing properly.

I then got a large bowl of pozole to go for my dinner from a local Mexican restaurant, Ay Chihuahua, as well as a couple of enchiladas, some rice, and refried beans. I then drove over to get something for my Mum from Boston Pizza, specifically, Boston’s Mac n Cheese. I had placed the order online before leaving the hospital, & I added shrimp as a surprise I thought she’d enjoy. But when she dug into it at home I found the addition was something didn’t like. At first she thought they were hunks of cheese to which I said “…no, those are shrimp. It had an option to add protein so I thought you might enjoy shrimp.”

She bit into a piece, spitting it out almost immediately. “It’s dry,” she replied with disappointing frustration. “Next time, just get me Mac n Cheese. Nothing else.”

My heart sank, as it seems whenever we get takeaway something is wrong with Mum’s meal. The only positive today was that I got her meal home quickly, so it was still hot. “I’m sorry,” I said, to which she said “…don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

I USED THE WORD 'EMERGING' BECAUSE I THINK IT'S IMPORTANT TO LET OURSELVES EASE INTO THE PROCESS. WHAT ARE THE COMFORT ZONES YOU'RE NOTICING SO FAR?

Are you noticing that some prompts are more outside your comfort zones than others? If you find yourself coming up against a comfort zone, could you let yourself use a tool like this and emerge into the photo gently rather than push yourself and make it all or nothing? Can you think of any other times you let yourself stretch into an experience, step by step and let yourself emerge gently?

After eating, I went to the guest room at Mum’s, which since COVID has become my home away from home. In fact, since my stroke & my issues with my feet, I haven’t been to my own place much at all in 2023. I crawled into bed and my little dog Kira jumped up to snuggle down next to me. My head throbbed as I mindlessly scrolled YouTube on my iPhone. Soon, I fell asleep. A few hours later my Mum woke me up, asking if I’d turned in for the evening and saying the garbage had to go out. She then looked down at the fan next to my bed, saw that it was dusty and that it needed to be wiped clean “…as it might catch fire!” She then went into the bathroom to get a cloth. I got up to attend to the garbage, & to make tea. That’s when we got into words, this time over the state of the guest room toilet which I haven’t cleaned since August. It’s these little messes that sets her off, as over time they’ve added up bit by bit. Every other day now the frustration over my laziness boils over into a war of words between us. The worst part is that I’m not mindful when Mum gets upset, my empathic nature picks up on her exasperation, raising the heat in my veins as well. It’s something I’m not proud of. It’s something I wish I could deal with better. I’m tired of my anxiety, depression, and now the 50 days of antibiotic therapy, all of which drag me down. Little victories of tackling the messes in my life seem few & far between, as I find it impossible to emerge from beneath their weighted strain that pulls me down. I want to get better, I long for it, cry for it, hell, I’d even die for it.

This was originally posted on Instagram.

Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.

turtle talk B.L.A.S.T. Stroke Recovery

digital print

TURTLE TALK - B.L.A.S.T. STROKE RECOVERY

turtletalk.ca/

After striking up a conversation about this unusual recumbent tri-cycle, I learned that this inspiring young lady was in convalescence after experiencing a stroke. A stroke is a brain injury where a part of the brain is starved for blood and oxygen.

I was moved to shake her hand and wish her all my best wishes. That struck close to home as I have now recovered from a brain hemmorhage in May 2002, a scary experience.

Thanks for this, Miss. Best Wishes.

I like your trike! www.catrike.com/catrikes.html

Ride safely.

My favourite way to view the photos of Mikey G Ottawa is with the Flickr Slideshow HERE:

www.flickr.com/photos/mikeygottawa/show/

I'm calling this one: "Handicapped? More like Handi-kick-your-ass, amirite?!"

We loaded the four benches, two end tables, two patio tables, and the big chair onto the trailer and into the Disabled Guy's truck. Here's a list of why we're disabled...

He's a stroke survivor (he was 28, so 22 years ago, he had a stroke). He's paralyzed on his right side. He has no use of his right hand or arm and he walks with a limp. He has some communication disorders, so he doesn't take complex direction well (so I had to say things like "step- stop! And step... stop!" while we were going down the ramp with the heavy stuff). I've had both knees replaced and my right leg is still not as strong as it should be for walking down a ramp or any slanted surface. I had both hands operated on (open carpal tunnel release surgery) and my left hand isn't as strong as it used to be. On top of that, I've got fibromyalgia and rheumatoid arthritis (RA is in my hands/wrists) and foot issues (plantar fasciitis, bursitis, and tendinitis). But, we did it! We loaded all this heavy stuff into a trailer. We kicked ass today.

DAY 4: THE STORY OF YOU

THESE EARS HAVE HEARD...

These hands have created a vanilla sundae with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, & a maraschino cherry in a small clear glass desert bowl with a short stem & pedestal - only the sundae itself was crafted out of melted wax crayons for an art project Ms Reed had our grade 5 class make.

The fingers of these hands have created the sound of music as they learned to dance across the ivory keys of the wood grained upright Yamaha piano my parents enrolled me to learn when I was ever so young. And these hands wiped away tears from my eyes on the days I’d have a temper tantrum, fighting with Mum over not wanting to practice.

These hands have created pencil drawings of the Cariboo-Chilcotin region I grew up surrounded by, in the heart of British Columbia, Canada when I was twelve years old - inspired by the pen & ink drawings of Canadian artist Al Ranger whose book “The Cariboo: Sketches, Maps & Trip Notes by Al Ranger” still has a place on my shelf today. One of those drawings won an honourable mention at a retreat in Portland, Oregon I attended through my first high school, the White Rock Christian Academy.

These hands have created oil paintings on canvas at the age of fourteen, when I told my Mum I wanted to learn how to paint like that easy going painted on television, Bob Ross. Somehow Mum found a local woman, Artist Vee Hansen, who ran a small framing & arts supplies store that also offered classes for adults. She let me join her class of adult painters, where I caught on quickly, recreating a scene of Mt St Helen’s before its explosion. It was a curriculum that eventually replaced playing the piano, a decision I’ve often regretted as I got older. But the painting has been something I’ve continued to do, on & off, ever since.

These hands have created a scar in me, when I woke to find them frozen with a tingling sensation akin to the feeling one has when their foot falls asleep. I’d felt sick before going to bed that night on the last day of January 2023, so much so I remember taking some nighttime cold & flu medication before falling asleep early, around 7pm. Around 10pm I remember waking from my slumber to a strange sensitivity that ran up my arms, into my chest & down my right leg. I remember laying in bed, slightly scared as I wondered what was happening as the awareness of something normal returned to my left side. I stumbled out of bed, & through my fog I wandered down the hallway to the kitchen to find my Mum, and explain to her how I was feeling. FAST, the acronym society uses to identify the advancing onset of a stroke didn’t seem to apply to me. FAST, but my Face wasn’t droopy. FAST, but I could lift my Arms above my head. FAST, but my Speech wasn’t impaired. So I decided to return to bed, hopeful the feeling in the rest of my body would return by morning, just as it had in my left side just a few moments before.

But it didn’t. I woke again around 6am, & struggled to even manoeuvre to the toilet. Pulling down my pyjama bottoms was a struggle, & wiping my own ass felt impossible due to that damn lingering sensation of a tingling numbness in my arm & what was my once dominant right hand. I flushed as it took all my strength to hoist myself up onto my legs, & I stumbled down the hallway to the entrance to the garage.

I sloppily stuffed my feet into my shoes, lumbering across the garage to go outside. There, I trudged through the snow to the mailbox that hadn’t been checked in days. I made it, collected the few pieces of junk mail in my left hand, and headed back towards the house only to find my right shoe had slipped off near the foot of the driveway not long after I had ventured out. It scared me that my bare skin hadn’t even noticed the cold, damp, snow as my foot took slow step after slow step to the community mailbox a block away from the house. Something was wrong.

But I still decided to ignore my aching distant desire to call 911, instead I chose to sleep some more. So, when I woke again around 11am, almost 13 hours after a part of my body decided to go on some kinda permanent vacation, I finally made the decision to call 911. After being taken to the hospital by ambulance around 2pm, emergency room staff put me through a barrage of tests. I remember the sound of my gurney’s smooth wheels gliding along the white medical grade vinyl flooring with grey speckled spots as I watched the two by four ceiling tiles pass by overhead, broken up by panels of fluorescent light tubes that lit our path. I was still conscious when a doctor came to my emergency room bedside to break the news to me. It was now around 10pm, almost 24 hours after I had awakened to my new reality of which this middle aged man offered clarity without comfort: I had suffered a stroke.

A stroke. Something old people have. A stroke. His words were scolding, for my not coming in right away, as any of the pharmaceutical cocktails they could have given me would now be ineffective. A tear streamed down my face. I’m certain anyone could have smelled the fear that was wound deep in my being at that moment in time. A stroke. Sometimes called a brain attack. An event the CDC describes as occurring “…when something blocks blood supply to part of the brain or when a blood vessel in the brain bursts. In either case, parts of the brain become damaged or die. A stroke can cause lasting brain damage, long-term disability, or even death…” A stroke.

Part of my brain was damaged. Part of my brain was dead. This was my new reality. Would these hands ever create anything ever again? Not knowing was the most terrifying of all. I sobbed deeply with the wail of a moan, a broken cante jondo. Nothing prepares you for these things. For things that have the potential to change the trajectory of the rest of your life.

(277/365).

This was originally posted on Instagram.

Today’s photo prompt and reflective journaling questions for today was a part of the BE YOUR OWN BELOVED photo workshop challenge which is run several times throughout the year by photographer VIVIENNE McMASTER. It’s well worth signing up for, and doing alongside other participants.

Here's Shelby hanging out in the yard with his big stuffed lizard toy. It's been over a month since his stroke and he is doing great!!

Happy (Heavenly) Birthday Dad. photo taken in 2006

In Memory of My Dad

If I could write a story, it would surely be one of the greatest stories I have every told. My father was a very kind and loving father. He had a heart of gold and his family meant everything to him (especially the grandkids). I could go on and on yet still have difficulty finding the right words to express how much I love and miss him every single day. I am thankful I found a love for the camera and he never said no to me taking his pictures. I am still hurting and sad but I know he is no longer suffering and he is with my mom. They are together again which is what he always wanted. He wanted to be with his wife. Pop-Pop you are loved and missed by our family. We were abundantly blessed to have had you for a such a long time. {Random Thought 1.17.2025}

Performs at the Great Hall in Toronto

Here he is sitting out in the yard, one week after he suffered a stroke at 14-1/2 years old. He has made a remarkable recovery!! He looks a bit out of it in this photo but rest assured that he is now just as much of a busybody as ever, one month post stroke!!! His gait is a bit unsteady compared to before but he is back to his usual routines. [[3months post stroke Shelby is still doing great and we thank you all for your good wishes for him!!]] [Shelby lived for six more months after his stroke and passed away peacefully in my arms, age 15 on 6 Feb 2009.] I got Shelby when he was 9 months old, a few days before his time was running out at the shelter and he was my constant, faithful companion to the very end. We were inseparable. I usually kept his hair cut shorter but when he got to his last year his skin was so very sensitive that I just let it grow out long and gently kept at him with the brush and comb.

Performs at the Great Hall in Toronto

Performs at the Great Hall in Toronto

Here is a clip from the CardioVisual app demonstrating cryoballoon ablation for atrial fibrillation. This therapy was designed to treat the pulmonary veins in the left atrium. ⠀

#afib #atrialfibrillation #ablation #nurse #veins #cardiac #cardiovascular #stroke #strokesurvivor #nursingstudent #cardiacnurse #cathlab #heartdisease #heart #cathlabnurse #instanursing #studentnurse⠀

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Learn More: drboonlim.co.uk/atrial-fibrillation/

Performs at the Great Hall in Toronto

Performs at the Great Hall in Toronto