The Aftermath of the Stroke

I haven't been blogging.

My dad had a stroke late July and it's weird how little you care about the futile things when you see someone that close to you fighting to learn to walk again and to gain back control over their emotions. "I can never golf again," was one of the first thing I remember him saying afterward. It made him cry. For the longuest time, everything made him cry. Syaing thank you to the nurses because he appreciated their efforts. Seeing us. Seeing his grandkids, seeing any visitor at all. That may have been the toughest part, and perhaps the one he struggled the most with. He's better now. He can walk short distance with the help of a cane. His arm is still not great, but it moves. It's still not ready to club a golf ball, but maybe next summer.

I have to say, people can bitch all they want about the health system here in Quebec, but man, when people need help, they get help. And it's efficient, quick, and nice help. He's been to 3 different health care facilities since, and there's only one staff member that was a little unkind to him. A reference for doctors: "there's nothing I can do for you" is not an appropriate response to a patient who just had a stroke the day before. Find a better way to formulate it, damn.