At the point of pain

I’ve been reflecting a lot in lockdown.

My current work (volunteer and paid) takes me to spaces and places where I see people with my lived experience - at the point of pain. When is there not a better place to intervene than at the point of pain?

I am part of a movement to address exactly what I’m talking about. In terms of the isolation and loneliness I experienced from my own lived experience of stroke - there is no better place to begin the process of alleviating and preventing that symptom of isolation which stroke can bring, than at the point of pain. Let’s all just acknowledge that - let’s not wrap it up in a pretty bow and call it something else….

I want to promote not prevent healing at the point of pain. Get in there, see the discomfort and provide comfort, information and current recourses which help not hinder. Lets not look at stroke as a “burdensome” medical event. The more time passes, the more passionate I become about promoting interventions, information and resources to aid the life long recovery after stroke. My stroke was an excruciatingly painful experience for me and those around me who were left to witness the many gaps I fell down.

Why would I want another person to be so objectified that they aren’t given the opportunity to connect with peers of their own lived experience to prevent isolation, loneliness and what that means in terms of good health and well being. I’ve been to forums and workshops all pointed towards future treatment. I left a workshop, just before lockdown last year in Melbourne, the beginning of Covid-19 in Australia and I wrote this poem. This poem still rings true for me, hope is not just another word in my vocabulary. Hope is a feeling which lives alongside the reality of life.

WHAT IF?

What if the diagnosis was hope?

And the therapy holistic?

A prescription was love?

Or the prediction was access?

What if inclusion was the norm?

And the possibilities made a shift towards what is needed to heal.

Drifting in the breeze of my lived experience I pass branches of goodness just waiting to spread seeds of growth.

Isn’t it about time?

Haven’t we all waited long enough?

I sat under this spectacular blossom tree for lunch last week. No doubt with the rain and wind we’ve had in Bathurst since then, the tree’s petals would have blown away by now. I like to think the those pretty petals spread goodness and beauty on their way. Just like the shift of attitudes towards stroke and brain injury I’m a part of, spreading possibilities of better outcomes for everyone.

Stay peaceful and keep smiling :-)

Sue