Sometimes it’s a good idea to have someone keeping an eye on you.
One of a 24-hour staff of nurses, maybe. Like, if you’ve suffered a catastrophic brain injury and don’t know that if you try to get out of bed to go to the bathroom your whole left side will give way and you’ll fall terrifyingly onto your wardmate – Hi, mom!
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Continue reading Reasons To Be Fearful Pt 3
It’s been over two years since the last stroke news digest on apoplectic.me. Which must mean something, I suppose. But yesterday, I was revisiting some old posts from the January immediately following Strokefest 2012, and strokes have been all over the news during the past week. So I thought today might be a good time to reclaim my Stroke Bloke identity.
[For The Stroke News That’s Unfit To Print, check out the Apoplexy newsletter.] Continue reading Digesta Plaga #9
It has never been hard to tell the difference between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine, PG Wodehouse once wrote. And today, as the Scottish Parliament debates the merits of approaching Westminster regarding another Independence referendum and just under half of the MSPs grumble about the Scottish Government manufacturing grievances, maybe it’s time to change the stereotype?
[For more sugar, spice, and nice things, check out the Apoplexy Tiny Letter]
Continue reading A Ray of Sunshine
Death Mettle. That’s some Punderdome 3000 level shit right there! Amirite?!
What I’m saying is, gird your loins, y’all.
Y’see, in the aftermath of last week’s laughfest about the movie Ghost and the experience of death, Paul pointed out that there’s a deep vein of pop culture death to be mined when it comes to the subject of death…
[This week’s Tiny Letter tuneage isn’t death metal, I promise. Probably.] Continue reading Death Mettle
It’s Trump -2 days until The Elephant’s Nelly (throwback: 1, 2) is anointed leader of that shining city on a hill.
I’m sure this has always been the case, but “Inauguration Day” is an anagram for “A Gaudy Urination.”
— Ben Greenman (@bengreenman) January 15, 2017
How do you feel? Exultant? Depressed?
Normal?
[apoplectic.me’s been a little stroke-lite recently. Not today, though. And there’s a stroke special coming next week…]
As readers of last week’s blog post will know, I like to listen to BBC Radio Scotland’s Good Morning Scotland when I’m making breakfast in the morning.
Mrs Stroke Bloke worries about my blood pressure, I’m sure, as a disconcerting mixture of laughter and swearie words escapes the kitchen. But it keeps me somewhat connected to the larger world, and sometimes, there’s a wee gem of an item to consider. Say, on the subject of #strokes. Continue reading The Standard Version
There are a lot of potential things to write about on the stroke blog this week. The Fabulous Beth and I went to see the National Theatre of Scotland put on the first two of Rona Munro’s James plays. And I’ve been reading about the translation of the Christian Bible conceived by James I’s and II’s descendant James VI of Scotland. So I suppose you could say I’ve been thinking about Survival in its many forms.
Out, damned spot. Those Stewart and Douglas boys had a bloody rammy while @NTSonline tried to put on #JamesPlays. pic.twitter.com/SiUA8JqDT8
— Ricky Brown (@ricky_ballboy) February 4, 2016
[For more apoplectic.me off-cuts, check out my Tiny Letter.] Continue reading Survival
Each year, The Fabulous Beth reaches five time zones across the ocean on Hogmanay to wish folks a Happy New Year from the future. You’re all here in the future now, right?
Well, welcome. Come on in. Have a cigar. Or don’t. There are resolutions to think of. Or not. Continue reading 2016 AD – Welcome to the Future
As Thanksgiving approaches, I guess I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. Not least, being 0.5% of an American abroad, I get to attend a number of Thanksgiving Dinners in excess of one.
[For more personal news and occasional whimsy – and to join the conversation – check out the Apoplexy Newsletter.] Continue reading Thanksgiving
Back in January, I wrote briefly of Moritz Erhardt. He’s rarely far from my mind, if I’m honest.
Moritz was a 21-year-old intern at Bank of America Merrill Lynch in London who, ten-and-a-half months after my haemorrhagic stroke, died after working three nights in a row. Early each morning, he would pop home for a quick shower while his taxi waited outside, before returning to the office. As a news report at the time wrote, “this procedure is so commonplace that it has a name: the magic roundabout.”
But let’s ruin a different childhood memory this time….
[Want a beautiful memory? Check out Nerd Bait‘s retelling of The Tale of The Little Mermaid with a bunch of talented people in attendance at Illicit Ink‘s Happily Never After as part of the Jura Unbound strand at the Edinburgh International Book Festival tomorrow.]