Today marks four months since my mini-stroke.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” Joseph Campbell

It seems so long ago, but it’s been only four months since my mild stroke.

Four months of treading water while looking for...something, a safe port. 

Today, my left carotid artery in my neck is filled with a stent. It seems so long ago that my speech and memory were masked by empty gaps. Blank moments. Like senioritis, but with longer, deeper pauses. 

It seems so long ago that I began a journey to a new life.
 
A changed life. 

On the outside, it all seemed normal, even though I couldn’t tell you what normal felt like.

I could walk, talk—no paralysis. I told people who couldn’t believe I had a stroke, who saw no evidence of one, that yes, my body, my brain, told me I had one.

Really.

The last three months have been filled with agonizing exercises in learning to sleep again. Still a work in progress. 

Home nurses. Physical Therapy. Speech Therapy. Occupational Therapy. Psychological Therapy. Doctor visits. Stroke Support Group. 

And it’s only been four months.

I’m not going to lie. 

The hardest, most difficult, most challenging months of my seventy-seven years of life. And trust me, that’s saying something. 

But I’m not alone on this journey. 

My life partner, Sumi. My sons, Daichi and Antonio. My family in Los Angeles. My family in New York, Margaret, Virginia, Joseph, Donnie. 

The rest of my family, relatives and friends, all over this country, who have cheered me on. 

Thank you. 

And it’s only been four months. 

My life has been forever changed. There is no going back to life before the stroke. 

This is my new life. I am building that life and living it. 

I am the safe port.