Taking the good with the bad

Well, the bad news is that my husband had a stroke on December 4.
The good news is that it was a mild one - he can walk and talk, just not as well as he used to be able to.
It was one of the more terrifying experiences of our lives, far worse for him of course because he's the one who's had to cope with the consequences of a rogue blood clot that decided it wanted to have a holiday in the left side of his brain.
At least, the doctors are assuming that's what it was. They won't know for sure until he has an MRI in Perth on Thursday but there's a family history of clots (in the blood sense, not the other one as far as I'm aware, although one of his uncles was a bit dim) and his grandma had a stroke when, like him, she was in her mid-50s.
Which is far too young but from what I've read on the internet (the equivalent of War and Peace, basically) not uncommon.
The whole thing was very sneaky.
There was no pain, no falling over and thrashing around.
He just felt dizzy and unwell and "weird" and went to lie down. And when he got up he couldn't talk or walk properly.
It's been a lousy couple of weeks punctuated by those incredibly uplifting moments when you're reminded how much you love each other, how lovely your friends and family are and how it's possible to still be attracted to someone who wears long white pressure socks to bed.
It certainly hasn't been all doom and gloom. We realise how incredibly lucky he was that it wasn't any worse and are amazed by the remarkable progress he's made in the last couple of weeks.
We've just got back from the OT (which stands for Occupational Therapy - think the OC but slower, with no bling, histrionics or bad acting and transplanted to outpatients at Albany Regional Hospital).
His right hand is now as strong and as his left, if still not as dextrous. Two weeks ago it had about one-fifth of the strength and he couldn't do basic things like cross his fingers or hold a pen.
We've also been walking the dog nearly every morning since he left hospital, and each day we're managing to go a bit further and a bit more quickly, which is brilliant.
Speaking of hospital, Albany Regional is as old and crappy facility-wise as everyone says it is but the staff are generally wonderful - God knows how they cope.
Another thing: if you have school-age children who are undecided about what they want to do when they grow up, I would strongly recommend you guide them towards becoming a Consulting Physician (sort of a super GP).
My husband had a visit from one on the last day he was in hospital. It lasted for five minutes precisely, during which time the physician and his registrar talked among themselves and the registrar did an echocardiogram. Then they both buggered off.
As I wasn't there at the time, my husband had to get out of bed and pursue the physician down the corridor in order to ask a couple of questions - not easy considering he was walking like My Little Pony on crack and couldn't string more than three words together when he was stressed.
We got the physician's bill a couple of days ago and learned that this tour de force of modern medicine cost $445.90.
If you factor in an additonal five minutes for the corridor pursuit, that works out to $44.59 per minute.
So, take my advice people. Get thee - or at least thy children - to the nearest med school. It's almost as good as winning Lotto.
I have to go now and try to get this house into some sort of Christmas order. The tree's up and the shopping's done but the bathroom is an absolute pit - ain't it always the way?
I hope you and yours have a very happy and safe Christmas.
If time permits, I'll be making La Nigella's horrifically kitsch Christmas Puddini Bonbons for the big day and will regale you with photos of same on my return.
Joy to the world...