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Talking Partial Paralysis Blues

About three or so years ago, my body was in a somnambulistic ritual following a hemorrhagic stroke, maintaining a close-enough comatose state of near-sleep. Fearing the reaper, a hospital bed became my slumber-filled fort.

Short story long – I was spectrally visited by an Indigenous Man, standing near my bed, motioning to come closer as artificial veins were bound to my skin, slagging medical equipment to my body. As the room became a densely wooded area, the Man went through the invisible forest, urging me to rip the maintaining needles stuck in my body to go with him.

But I was stopped, like a cosmic reset button that pushed me into the fabric of reality. Or something like that.

As I came back to Earth, the vision I had was submerged into another reality – the staff of omniscient doctors and well-trained nurses bringing me back from the void. As I metaphorically kicked and screamed, hoping that I would see him again, my time with the Man grew farther and farther apart, and I began to second-guess myself and the vision.

But, like clockwork, six months ago, I had another stroke. A big stroke.

Even worse, this stroke has taken most of my wellbeing, or what’s left (theft?) of it.

There was no angelic force or visitor this time, only darkness and loneliness. I was living in a well-to-do casket of my own choosing, trying for a new near-death experience in my wake. For months, I had no speaking voice, no reading capability, and no movement on my right side. Even though I tried to soilder on, a part of my damaged psyche had given up. It was too much to bear, at times.

But I kept on fighting the good-ish fight, especially knowing that you, the tried-and-true Lost Ogle family, were there to support and encourage me at every painful new step. It made me somewhat stronger. So, I made the decision to rebuild. Again.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t take that hand from the vision of the Indigenous Man the first time around…maybe I had to wander and learn a new path through this beautiful, enrapturing, maddening world.

But, to be fair, if this shit happens one more time, I hope he returns, offers his hand, and guides me through the forest, taking me to places I've never been. Basically, I give up.

Follow Louis on Twitter at @LouisFowler and Instagram at @louisfowler78

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