Author: Trey Yant

It’s been almost two years since my stroke, and while my brain has been permanently damaged, one thing has not—my sense of humor. Countless people have marveled at how my personality has stayed intact, despite being paralyzed on my left side.

Well, first of all, humor has always been my preferred coping mechanism, and this situation is no different. I’ve also spent the last few months processing the part I played in this stroke.

There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t rehash conversations with my doctors from the past. They warned me that my blood pressure was high, but I felt normal. They warned me that I was in danger of a stroke, but I never knew anyone who had one and had no clue how devastating it could be. Their sense of urgency was lost on me, and I’m paying the price now.

In the past year, I’ve been sharing videos of my progress in therapy. People say, “You inspire me!” “You’re such a warrior.” While I’m glad they are watching and responding, I also feel embarrassed by their praise because I’m partially responsible for this stroke.

Do you feel sorry for the psychos who go to Spain to run with the bulls? Of course not! Those people purposely put themselves in harm’s way. It’s been said, “If you fuck with the bull, you get the horn.” Well, I ignored my doctors, and I got the horn!

The purpose of this update isn’t to dissuade you from offering me encouragement. I appreciate every word. Instead, I hope you’ll watch my videos to see what the aftermath of a stroke can look like. What you do with that information is up to you. If I could turn back time, I would have been more diligent about lifestyle choices and consistency with my blood pressure medication. There is no doubt in my mind that alcohol was a factor in this stroke.

Going forward, I hope my experience will open your eyes and you’ll use it to keep yourself healthy. Instead of boosting my morale online, I’d much rather hear how my stroke is helping you avoid a stroke of your own. That would be the greatest praise I could get!

First of all, let me tell you how much I miss you. In fact, I can hardly function without you, but God knows I’m trying. I realize I have taken you for granted literally my whole life. If I had it to do all over again, I would, but this gives me (us) a chance to reminisce about the good times we shared together.

As children we were taught how to catch large mouth bass and crappie by Pappaw. We also learned the fine art of hitting a baseball and fielding one for that matter too. These skills brought countless hours of fun playing whiffle ball derby. When we would break the ball, we would stuff it with toilet paper and wrap it with electrical tape. Coulda put a man on Mars with our ingenuity, right? Oh wait, we did and they made a movie out of it. Thanks, Matt Damon and the Academy.

Speaking of our rocket science skills, what about the time we used 10 pounds of Mammaw’s flour to make a football field in her back yard? That didn’t go over so well, did it? Last time she ever made us bisquits. “You idiots don’t deserve any homemade biscuits after that dumb stunt. What were you thinking?” Well woman (said only in my head), we were thinking about playing on a real field for once… Now, if someone would just mow this pasture back here, it would work a lot better. Guess who had to mow? Yep, we did and it took an entire weekend, but still no biscuits, dumplings, or even a single pancake. Okay, okay… lesson learned. Don’t use grandmother’s flour to stripe a ball field and don’t use chalk to make dumplings or bisquits. This led in nicely to my career at Sysco, don’t you think? With food knowledge like this it’s hard to believe chefs here in Portland would scoff at my food suggestions.

Remember when we discovered what happens when you hit a firefly with a bat or tennis racket? It was like a tiny backyard fireworks display. Was great until we realized the racket strings were covered with bug entrails the next day. Rocket builders we were. The only thing that helped that situation was our move to Oregon. Mammaw realized she missed us more than she did the flour, and soon the cards, letters, and more importantly to a 12 year old, the cash started flowing through the US Postal Service. All was right in the Universe again.

Now 40 years later, the universe turned upside down again. Left arm, left leg, please come back to me. I need you too much to go on like this!  We’ve shared a lifetime together and I still need you now. I go to bed holding your hand every single night, even if you can’t feel it. I’m hoping you wake up in the morning and decide to stay. I promise to never take you for granted again.