Comedian and stroke survivor, John Kawie, tries his hand at an advice-column – sort of.
The good folks here at Stroke Connection offer support and guidance through every step of your recovery. My column offers none whatsoever, but I think it might be time for a change. So let’s begin with that first exciting morning home and what you can expect.
Something arrived from Social Security: “This is to inform you that we no longer consider you Disabled. As of now you are officially just Old. Your benefits will be decreased accordingly.” Seriously?
And there it was, my old Rusk Institute Outpatient Rehabilitation schedule that I carried like an extra appendage for the better part of two years. It contained therapy class times, room numbers, Access-A-Ride information ... everything I needed to navigate Planet Rehab. It was my pre-smartphone stroke GPS, and without it I was adrift like George Clooney in “Gravity.”
In this edition of John Kawie's award-winning Life at the Curb column: As Ferris Bueller wisely said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around every once in a while you might miss it.” This is true, unless you happen to be a stroke survivor.
I had something in my back pocket…the stroke card! And much to my wife Marilyn’s dismay I pulled it out every chance I got.
That blue and white guy in the wheelchair is the Beverly Hills of parking lot real estate where the three most important words are “location, location, location.”
If you witnessed the exact moment of my stroke, you’d be surprised how underwhelming the event was … no dramatic collapsing or keeling over. In fact, I was asleep at the time.
Many of our readers think the only reason we publish Stroke Connection is so they can read John Kawie’s column, "Life at the Curb." This issue marks 10 years that John has succeeded at what seems impossible — making stroke funny.
My tour director cousin and her husband Ray were anxious for Marilyn and me to get to stop No. 2 on our itinerary: The Yankee Candle Shop. Plus, they had the car.
When you’re wobbly on your feet and you’re slammed broadside by a half-pint human, you go down like a sumo wrestler on a balance beam.
John shares the story of his first post-stroke haircut.