The night of the day I wrote Moving On, I had an interesting three a.m. visit in the role of a CNA. She began talking as if she knew I was at the point of dark night of the soul and I was too exhausted to want to continue.
She started talking by saying, “Don’t give up… don’t ever give up.” Usually not the conversation from a CNA at three a.m. She explained that she had a stroke like mine, but in her thirties and she knew that it was much harder to have one in your seventies, as I had. She was using both her arms and was walking…with a stumble is a good way to describe her gait.
She also explained that her grandmother had a stroke in her sixties, a decade still makes a lot of difference, I thought to myself. Her grandmother was a nurse and refused OT and PT. She chose to do her own OT and PT on herself. She made a full recovery. My mind reminded me that I had badly broken my effected arm a couple of years before my stroke which complicates my recovery.
Then the CNA began to talk about God…wanted to know if I believed. Telling me again to never give up. After she left my room, I could feel a little hope returning to my soul in its dark night.
I do believe that sometimes a person like this woman walks into your life for a few minutes, never to be seen again. I think of them as angels.
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