Fairytale stroke recovery

As I sit at work on a Saturday morning about to sign a renegotiated contract, and then go to an AFL game tomorrow, where my Dad and I have had tickets put aside by a former Australian test cricket opening batsman, it's slapping me in the face how lucky I have been in my recovery from my stroke in 2005. So in my 101st blog, I wanted to reflect on why.

If I had sat down after coming out of a four day coma and written a script for how I wanted my life to turn out, I never would have been brave enough to write it as perfectly as it's ended up. This is the script I never would have dreamed possible:

Former Sydney Swan and type 1 diabetic Barnaby Howarth, was out having a quiet drink with 3 mates on a Thursday night when one of his mates started a fight that Barnaby stepped into to break up, but he was knocked out by a king hit then kicked in the head while he was lying on the ground. During the fight, an artery in his brain stem was torn, and at football training the next week for the Pennant Hills Demons, where he was club captain, a blood clot was knocked loose, floated up the torn artery where it lodged itself, interrupting the blood flow going to and from his brain, causing a stroke.

His life spiralled into uncertainty, he was put on life support which his parents were told they might have to consider switching off, his family and friends were told to come and say goodbye, and they were all told that if he did survive, he'd probably be a vegetable. Before the stroke he was captain of his local footy club where he was now stranded on 96 games, he was 1 subject away from finishing a journalism diploma at university, and he had almost finished writing his autobiography about his life with diabetes, but now he couldn't shower himself, stand still without falling over, or pick up a tic tac off a table.

And then he started feeling lucky...

He moved back home with his parents, where his mother was a former nurse, his 2 best mates held a huge fundraiser, his parents' mates held another fundraiser, his rehabilitation hospital was one of the best in Sydney, and when he was discharged, his good friend and physiotherapist took over the role as primary carer.

But they were all things other people controlled for him, there were still parts of his life he'd have to control himself, but he wasn't sure how he'd do it. He decided that looking at the "why me's," the "what ifs" or worrying about what his life MIGHT be like were a waste of time - none of it would change what had happened, so all he could do was give 100% of his effort to the task in front of him and let the chips fall where they may, or as his former Pennant Hills coach used to tell the team, "focus on the game plan and the result will take care of itself."

And this is where the script gets almost too perfect to believe...

After a few months of rehanilitation, Barnaby went about getting his life back - He went back to University and got his diploma, he finished his autobiography and had it published, got involved with the footy club again, being the message runner, then water runner, put his journalism diploma to use and went and filmed a documentary in Botswana, he climbed Mount Kilimanjaro with his sister and a great mate, got a job in the media, made a football comeback and played his 100th game, and started doing some motivational speaking.

So as I sit in the stands with Roscoe tomorrow watching the Giants take on the Dees, I will have signed my contract with work, and with a pie in one hand, and a beer in the other. I'll be glowing in the knowledge that fate scripted my life better than I would have scripted it myself.