Tag: hemorrhagic stroke

Got fish food?

~ Linda Wright ~ 1 Comment
There are some anniversaries that are not on any calendar. They are buried deep in my memory. They rise up slowly like air bubbles escaping from a fish’s lips. One at a time they float to the transparent surface. First one, then two, then three float up into my conscious thoughts.

They say, “This is the time when it happened.”

I try to ignore these memories; they are rarely happy anniversaries. If they had been pleasant experiences I would never have needed to banish them to the bottom. More often than not they are anniversaries of injuries, hospitalizations and trauma.

This month marks the eighth anniversary of my hemorrhagic stroke. I don’t actually remember the specific date in August when the cerebral hemorrhage began.

A few days ago the anniversary bubbles began to float up to the surface. They said, “It has been eight years now.”

I look at each bubble and remember the healing that has taken place over those years. I take an assessment of the gains and losses and determine that a game has been played well. Recovery has won the match.

Here We Go ‘Round The Mulberry Bush

~ Linda Wright ~ 1 Comment

“This is the way we wash our clothes
Wash our clothes, wash our clothes
This is the way we wash our clothes
So early Monday morning”

Today as I was gathering up the soiled clothes and towels, I found myself humming this old nursery rhyme that I used to sing as a child. I remembered the lyrics about the housework scheduled for each day of the week.

It’s not much work for me to do the laundry. It does not take the time my mother spent using a wringer washing machine. With that machine, each garment had to be hand fed through the rolling cylinders in order to squeeze out the water before it could be hung up to dry. My maternal grandmother set large tubs of water to boil on the wood stove in order to wash the laundry for her family. After the soiled items were sterilized, they were scrubbed against a tin washboard.


The nursery rhyme continues to name each day of the week with each task that ordered my mother’s and my grandmother’s lives: ironing on Tuesdays, mending on Wednesdays, sweeping floors on Thursdays and then scrubbing floors on Fridays. Saturday was for bread making. This work was predictable, unlike so many other things in life. It brought order, improved health and nourishment for their families. It is no surprise to me that the song ends with:

“This is the way we go to church
Go to church, go to church
This is the way we go to church
So early Sunday morning.”


Meaningful work followed by a day of Sabbath, rest and worship, makes sense to me. Work that brings organization to chaos is inspiring. Life-sustaining work should feed the body, mind and spirit. It also gives me a greater appreciation for times when I can rest, rejoice and play.

I know many people who dislike the work they do, or who are forced to hold jobs that degrade their spirit and leave them feeling angry, frustrated and diminished. Some people feel what they do is little more than circling around a mulberry bush over and over again without meaning.

A few years ago, after I had a hemorrhagic stroke, I was lucky enough to be able to retire from the work that I had done for 30 years. I am still younger than most who are retired. Many of my friends were jealous, although I have not found one who would choose to have a stroke in order to be relieved from her labors. It took me some time to recover from the stroke and my gratitude for the gift of that time away from work was profound. It gave me an opportunity to reflect on the work that I accomplished in my life and what it meant to me and for others. It was not as easy to see that when I was actually working.

There is lots of work to be done in this world, many ways to be of use. It did not take me long to discover new and different ways that I could still be useful. Now, I have learned to appreciate work for its ability to fill my spirit, not just my days.