For whatever it’s worth.......

.........which will probably be nothing;

Sunday, October 26, 2008, was the 15-year anniversary of my stroke.
I think my noisy blowhard brother-in-Boston has finally come to see that something indeed has happened, although he’s using my brain-injury to loudly trumpet his VAST superiority.
Which, excuse me, means we have to hope it doesn’t happen to him.
And it could. He, like me, is a Connor child; which means he might have the same heart-flaw I had.
I think my maternal grandfather had a stroke too; and like me, it made him non-verbal.
The reason he was like this was never made crystal-clear to us, although I think my mother offhandedly said he’d had a stroke. (I’m not sure, since she was kind of secretive about this.)
Trouble is......
—A) It could put the Bluster-Boy’s lights out; or......
—B) It could make him into a vegetable, dependent on Lynn-Ellen.
After all, that was what Linda was told: I’d be a vegetable.
But I was ornery enough to reverse all those catastrophic stroke-effects: the paralysis, the garbled speech, etc.
So maybe the Bluster-Boy could too, and get back to riding his GeezerGlide.
I’m always told the fact that I can ride motorbike (“motorcycle,” “Jap crap;” WHATEVER) is perceived as miraculous.)
It depends on how bad the stroke is; I guess.
I’ve met a few that had strokes; paralyzed arms, limping, choppy speech.
At the Stroke-Rehab at Park-Ridge Hospital, I met people that couldn’t walk or speak at all.
A lady across from me fell out of bed, and couldn’t open a milk-carton.
I opened it for her.
But that was all 15 years ago.
A supposed non-event that makes me what I am now — a supposedly reprehensible liberial that has the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to challenge an all-knowing and vastly superior REPUBLICAN blowhard.
It scared Linda, and will scare Lynn-Ellen.
I’m left with a few vestigial stroke-effects, but can get by.
And I can still write. Apparently that wasn’t effected at all.

I had a stroke October 26, 1993.

My siblings all consider my stroke to be a non-event. My main fault to them is that I’m a Democrat.

My mother’s maiden-name was “Connor.”

RE: “heart-flaw:” —I had a Patent Foreman Ovale (“PAY-tint for-AY-min o-VAL-ley;” a PFO), where the wall between adjacent heart-chambers does not fully close. This can allow a clot to pass through toward the brain, instead of the lungs. That was the cause of my stroke. That PFO has since been closed with open-heart surgery.

The “Bluster-Boy” is my all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say. His wife’s name is “Lynn-Ellen.”

“Linda” is my wife of 40+ years.

“GeezerGlide” is what I call all Harley Davidson ElectraGlide cruiser-bikes. My loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston has a very laid back Harley Davidson cruiser-bike, and, like many Harley Davidson riders, is over 50 (51). So I call it his GeezerGlide.

I’ve been loudly criticized by my brother-in-Boston for use of the term “motorbike.” —My current motorcycle, a Honda, is “Jap crap.”

“Liberial” is how my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston noisily insists “liberal” is spelled. (Recently it’s “liberila” or “libieral.”)