Mind of my Stroked Brain

I loved food. Any kind as long as it was vegetarian. It has been that way ever since I have been a kid. I don't remember me fussing to eat anything. This was only passive consumption. For almost a decade before my stroke, the love for food xhanged from passive consumption to active experience and experimentation with food. I used to love cooking - especially without any recepie and just try various things and see how it turned out. I loved entertaining and feeding others as well. For the past 4½ years, I have been having only fluids through a tube - initially it was a ryles tube through the nose and almost 4y afterwards through the peg tube to my stomach. When I had the stroke, after coming out of the disoriented and confused state, one of the first things for the mind to come to terms with was not being able to swallow and consume anything. Water, food etc. Not even my own saliva. It was very disturbing to see others eat foods, gulp down water, have a hot cuppa, etc. After sometim

I was having a chat recently with a good friend of mine and we we talking about "stress". I thought about it afterwards and some thoughts came up: One of the most widely used factors for contemporary diseases is "stress" (along with lifestyle). I often wondered for a very very long time - what does it mean.  Generally I knew that something we were doing was not right, but I didn't know what it was . After many years, I found out the definition. (It may not be entirely right, but it is how I have understood it). Basically, when we are in anxiety (mostly caused by fear - real or imagined), the body releases hormones to support the "fight or flight" response. (It's a very primitive and helpful response to safeguard us and we can't stop it). In primitive days, we would actually "fight or flight" and the extra hormones would be used up. However, in today's world, we don't "fight or flight", instead go back angry and mumbl

Every day is the same... Get up, physio, bath, sitting and standing, oral feeding, shift on to the wheelchair, exercises, shift back to bed and change, sleep. Peppered inbetween with feeds and lying in bed with the mobile.   I am tired and frustrated of it.  I have often felt like giving up... Yet I continue and go to the next day and do the same things. I have wondered why? Why do I do it? What is the reason behind it? I know I am not very weak. But even that strength is not enough for this living. This existing... I think it is more out of "fear". I am terrified of it actually. Continuing like this remainder of the life. Not fear of dying. I think I have crossed that. It's "fear" of living. If I give up and stop doing stuff, it doesn't mean it will end. I will be just fed and kept alive like a vegetable. It will only prolong the misery. For me and everyone else. I am terrified of that... I remember seeing in National geographic/Animal planet many times. A