She had never heard of my book, nor I of hers (although apparently I was the first to recognize the Sappho reference in her title). We exchanged our books accompanied by firm promises to read and report back.
What better therapy than dancing with Gabe? (video below)
As the ONE-YEAR anniversary of my stroke approaches – wow! – my recovery continues to follow the quick rise and flattening curve (see below) that the medical staff predicted for me, as for other stroke survivors. And it’s true – eleven months in, the changes are more subtle. However, every week there inevitably still turns out to be some marked improvement. My physio supervisor, Jessica, tested me last week and told me I’m much stronger in my leg than just a month ago, and my left arm has also strengthened considerably in recent weeks. The Theraband exercises must be helping.
My recovery has gone far, far beyond what many of my doctors and medical team initially predicted in the dire days of last fall. With Sara’s urging, I continue to believe that the curve will never flatten out completely. As the book Stronger After Stroke maintains, there never needs to be a complete plateau to recovery, for a stroke survivor who is fortunate enough to have good support, a stabilized health condition, and dogged determination to work together with the brain’s natural plasticity.
So on this 11th-month strokeaversary, here’s some of what recovery has looked like!
Theraplaying
The wonderful physical therapy and occupational therapy folks at St. Martha’s Regional Hospital are starting to hint that I can’t be an outpatient forever. Of course, they’re right. “As much as we like you and look forward to our sessions,” they tell me, “we have to make room in our case load for new patients…” The hospital has been incredibly generous, and I’ve come to really love my outpatient team. I moved from two sessions a week to one only this last month. Colin, the smart and thoughtful tech who took over from the equally helpful physio tech Janna, is now regularly kicking a soccer ball with me. The catch: I have to use only my left foot. I’m finding that soccer and the funny-face bean-bag toss are my favourite therapy activities. Like a toddler, I’m improving my balance, coordination, and hand movements through play, which makes it seem (almost) easy.
Medicating
After my heart surgery in April to close a PFO (the hole between the upper chambers of my heart), the Halifax surgeon put me on precautionary Plavix, to guard against post-operative complications. I just came off of it and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been bruising after every blood test (one time the blood actually spurted out) and also when I bump or ding myself as so often happens in summer gardening and construction season. I remain on low-dose Aspirin and a suite of blood pressure pills. But my GP and the cardio team at the hospital have dialled back even these a bit, and now I can crouch and stand up without threatening to black out. Sitting on my haunches to look in a cupboard reminds me of my old self.
Straightening
It was Lindsay, the incredibly gifted and helpful Occupational Therapist at the Nova Scotia Rehabilitation Centre in Halifax, who suggested “Oval 8 Finger Splints” for my left hand’s fingers most reluctant to recover – my ring finger and my pinkie. My pinkie has been broken a few times over the years of basketball and tended to go its own way even before the stroke. I find the splints helpful at the end of a busy day when my fingers tend to curl and stiffen. My typing is improving slightly, although when my left hand quickly tires, those two fingers droop and tend to type their own messages.
Hearing
Of the many effects of the stroke, one of the most subtle has been a slight alteration in my hearing, or more accurately perhaps, my brain’s processing of what I hear. I’ve noticed more trouble understanding Sara when she’s in another room, or there’s ambient noise.
At the same time, my need to focus more carefully on whatever I’m doing so as not to lose balance, trip, or drop something, means my ability to multitask, including “listening, while…,” has diminished. And, I’m not young anymore.
So my audiologist appointment finally came through. The audiologist took me into a sealed quiet room, ran tests on both ears, then gave a series of tests I had to respond to.
The results? Apart from the normal post-stroke inability to multitask because of increased need for concentration, my ears are typical old guy’s ears: some age-related hearing loss, and that’s it.
I actually enjoyed the challenge of having four numbers spoken at once into both ears and having to try to correctly identify them!
Canning
When Gabe, my youngest, came to visit in August with Ray, they said they wanted to do some jelly-making like we did last year. The Saskatoons were done and it was a bit early for the chokecherries, but the jelly turned out well.
Our place is prolific for berries despite the scary and record-breaking drought. I spent hours picking Saskatoons earlier in the season, and our strawberries and grapes are plentiful.
Holding boughs with my left hand while picking berries with my right turns out to be good therapy, too.
Dancing
Gabe’s visit this month also gave me a chance to re-learn and re-try the swing steps we’ve done so many years together, and also to re-learn some of the guitar chords my fingers have forgotten, from all the songs we used to play together. I’m thankful.
If you watch the video (click on the photo below), you’ll see how my face goes mask-like (not direct stroke damage but because I’m concentrating on not falling), my left arms wants to pull in and tighten, and I lose my balance briefly. But overall, what a joy, and what an improvement! Sara has been keeping up my dance therapy since Gabe left…
Reading
My worlds overlapped recently when The Canada Lutheran asked Sara to write a column for their regular Q&A feature. As usual, Dr. Sara Parks, who is a consummate teacher and communicator, produced something interesting, academically solid, and pitched perfect for non-academics. Have a read below.
I recently finished Tanis MacDonald’s wonderful book Straggle. I highly recommend it – it’s full of beautiful writing and profound observation. And Tanis’s thoughts on “ungainly” walking fit my new post-stroke life so well….
Travelling, Walking, & Celebrating
This was also the month that I took my first solo plane trips. I’d been invited west to celebrate the tenth anniversary of our Wood Mountain – Cypress Hills trek in the summer of 2015, featured in my book The Good Walk (URP, 2024). The Saskatchewan History and Folklore Society, which has spearheaded the walks since, was having its board meeting at Wood Mountain in conjunction with the event.
Even though Sara could not accompany me to hoist bags, hold my hand and generally be my security blanket, I was lucky that my brother Mark and sister-in-law Barbara (a recently-retired physio) were there to meet me in Regina. We stayed in their camper at Woodboia Camp near the Wood Mountain Historic Site (the NWMP Fort at Wood Mountain). That’s where Hugh Henry, Richard Kotowich, Hayden Thomassin and I started out 10 years ago to walk the 350-km North-West Mounted Police Patrol Trail (Traders’ Road) across Treaty Four territory.
10 years later, posing with Hugh Henry of the Sask History and Folklore Society
Among the highlights of my trip was visiting the Badlands in the “East Block” at Grasslands National Park. If you ever have the chance, be sure to visit this incredible place.
One of the most significant tests of my recovery was putting on my hiking boots (this time, with elastic laces) and re-walking a portion of the trail from Wood Mountain to the Lakota First Nation. Ten years ago, we did the three miles easily in the morning. This time, I cut out when the trail got muddy and hard to walk, and rejoined later. I managed to walk about a mile and a half in total.
Another highlight was meeting Dr. Claire Thomson, who led us around the historic site at Wood Mountain and gave both an academic and a personal history of the area. Dr Thomson is a descendant of one of the early North-West Mounted Police officers, and of his Lakota wife. Her PhD research on the Lakota history of Wood Mountain won the prize for best doctoral thesis in Canadian Studies recently…I quoted her in The Good Walk and was delighted to meet her in person.
My life as an author looks like it will keep me busy into the fall as well. In September the Atlantic School of Theology is hosting me for a series of six online lectures on Leonard Cohen and Saint Paul, following up on my book Prophets of Love (MQUP, 2023). You can find more info on those lectures by clicking the “Almost Like the Blues” link HERE.
This week my interview with CBC Radio One Cape Breton’s Wendy Bergfeldt came out on the afternoon show “Main Street.” God bless the public broadcaster! I was excited for my first Nova Scotia CBC interview…and our talk went so well it was broadcast over three separate afternoons! It was wonderful meeting Wendy – it turns out we have LOTS in common: growing up from Scandinavian settler grandparents in SK, attending the U of S in Saskatoon during the same years, living in the UK for a while, and then settling in Nova Scotia. Oh, and did I mention? A shared interest in decolonization, history, and pilgrimage! I’ll post the links to the interview soon. (In case you missed it, my earlier CBC Montreal interview with Sonali Karnick can be heard here).
Next Month: One Year
Soon it will be a full year since my stroke. I’ll be marking the occasion, for sure. Will I be celebrating? I’m not sure what to say.
My stroke cost me a lot that I haven’t yet regained: my sense of secure balance, my ability to walk long distances, to run, to dance smoothly, and to play songs smoothly on the guitar. And crucially, I can’t type with both hands like I used to, which is how I’ve written my essays, lectures, and books.
BUT: the stroke helped me realize what a community of support is around me, how good so many people are, what an incredible partner I have, and how precious life and health is. I’m thankful every day for just being able to walk and speak (and pee and shower!), teach, read, think, and do what passes for a “normal” life for me. Much less all that’s listed above.
In the end, it’s all gift. Because of my stroke last fall, I realise that now more than ever.
So, see you next month! I wonder what surprises await?
Sara found a more elegant solution for dripping juice than the complicated ladder-thingy I typically used.
When Sara and I first arrived in Nova Scotia for her new job at St. Francis Xavier University, I was bemused to find all kinds of connections to Saint Ninian. In Montreal, I’d endlessly debated Ninian’s existence with Prof. Sara Terreault when we taught pilgrimage together at Concordia. When we moved to England and I was taking advantage of pilgrimages there, I’d enticed friends Ken and Christine to come over and join me as the first group of Canadians to walk Scotland’s nascently revamped Ninian walk, The Whithorn Way. Almost as soon as I arrived in Antigonish I admit I started concocting a fanciful pilgrimage here called “The Nova Scotia Ninian Way,” that would explain the strange choice of Ninian as the patron Saint of the cathedral here while weaving in the often suppressed histories of Gael and Acadian settlers, and original Mi’kmaw peoples on this Land.
Sara found it a bit weird that I was pulling all-nighters for a talk that wasn’t any longer than a lecture for class. Finally I revealed to her that the talk was spiralling out of control! The deadline for the annual Pottersfield Prize for (unpublished) Creative Non-fiction was approaching …. one thing had led to another and I had myself a manuscript. It was a braiding together of two walks to Ninian–one in Scotland and one in Antigonish–and the stories of impossible underdog successes amid terrible colonial destruction on both sides of the Atlantic. To my amazement, the book, Someone Else’s Saint, won second prize!
Since there was going to be a Real Life book, I knew then and there that there had to be a Real Life pilgrimage to match. What kind of a fraud would I feel like at book talks if I hadn’t even walked the trajectory I was describing? So the “word became flesh.” Soon, a map was drawn, rest stops were arranged, and a dozen or so adventuresome pilgrims (you know who you are…and thank you!) signed on to walk the inaugural Nova Scotia Ninian Way. We timed the pilgrimage to end at Saint Ninian Cathedral just in time for their 125th Anniversary Mass.
Talk about a bucket list moment.
I sure didn’t think it was likely the Nova Scotia Ninian Way would be walked again.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Ken essentially has a PhD in meaningful walking, he’s the author of Walking the Bypass, out soon with University of Regina Press, and he’s all through the Scottish portions of Someone Else’s Saint (although he wasn’t 100% enamoured of his depiction in the infamous STINGING NETTLE scene and the WET SOCKS FIASCO) as he let me know via his blogged review.)
But what an honour to have the likes of Ken check out this Antigonish Pilgrim Path AKA The Nova Scotia Ninian Way!
Recently, a near-miracle happened. For the last couple of months, one stroke recovery strategy for my left arm has been playing catch with my wonderful therapy assistant Jaana. She throws a tennis ball aimed vaguely towards my torso, and I try to catch it without using my right hand. Typically, I’m not completely catching it — more catching/cupping it between hand and torso. (Throwing it back to her is also a challenge because my spastic fingers won’t let go.) But last week, Jaana accidentally tossed the ball too high and suddenly, to her immense surprise and mine, my left hand shot up and I caught it in mid-air! Neither of us could believe it. I hugged her and we immediately ended my session for the day on that high note. No way was I was going to top that (in fact, I haven’t been able to do it again since, although I’m able to consistently catch underhand, sometimes just with my hand, more often against my body).
A few days ago I managed to tie my work shoes without help. That felt like a major win. Afterward I sat awhile, pleased with myself but so winded from bending over, I had to wait to recover before heading outside. On my new meds my blood pressure actually gets low sometimes! The herons have returned to our little inlet, along with scads of songbirds, so I can sit on our deck during such recovery times and just …. recover.
My Left Leg
The physiotherapist regularly tests my left leg strength and flexibility. Although I’m still limping, and have to be ever-mindful not to trip over my dragging left toe, this month she discovered it is now back to full strength! Why the limp, then? “It’s strong enough to walk without a limp,” she explains. “The problem isn’t your leg. It’s your brain.” I don’t know how to convince my brain to relax that left calf and to pick up my left foot and bend my left knee automatically. Sometimes I’m pretty smooth, but as soon as I’m tired or cold, I’m prone to a kind of geriatric side-to-side waddle that means a sore hip. With absolutely every step I have to remember to lift my foot. It’s frustrating (until I remember how recently were the days I couldn’t walk at all!)
Lately my twice-a-week physio dates have me walking on different paths near the hospital while the therapist assesses my gait. I even found a labyrinth. Sometimes I walk to music, which seems to make my gait smoother. I guess my brain responds to The Stones better than the stones.
Botox? Why not?
You may not have pegged me as a Botox kind of guy, but I’ll soon be a new man. The doctors arranged for a shot of Botox in my left calf in the hope that — just like Botox deadens face muscles to prevent people from getting wrinkles — it will temporarily deaden my calf enough to keep my leg from “hitching” with every step, training my brain to trust that a smoother, more natural gait is safe again. (When one is initially paralyzed by stroke, the brain sometimes learns to “freeze” an area to protect it from flailing and hurting itself, much like when you’re dreaming about running but your legs aren’t actually moving.) My initial Botox appointment was cancelled because I had to fly out west for my brother-in-law Vern’s funeral. I was told the next opening would likely not be until September. I admit I’d been looking forward to a possible breakthrough for my leg. In the middle of my little funk, Sara, who has often had moments of clarity that have helped my recovery, said: “well, if shocking your arm worked so well for your hand, why wouldn’t it help your leg? Hook those wires up to that calf and give it a try!” (I’ve since found an article that confirmed her insight.) After only a couple of days of shocking my calf, I’m already noticing small improvements in my gait. (And my Botox is now bumped forward to mid-July!) At so many stages, I don’t know what I’d do without Sara’s help, advocacy, advice, watchful eye, optimism, wisdom, and sense of humour.
Longest Walk so Far!
Last week I had a visit from fellow writers-about-walking, Ariel Gordon and Tanis MacDonald. They were in Nova Scotia at a writers’ retreat at the Elizabeth Bishop House. We traded books. I took them to Pomquet Beach, and they convinced me to try walking the beach with them. (Both have written about walking slowly, and Tanis about walking and disability.) We went slow, checking out beach stones and shells. By the time we reached Chez Deslauriers road, about a kilometre later, I think my left foot was dragging more sand than I was leaving behind! But it IS getting better, even pre-Botox! I later realised it was my longest walk since the stroke.
My Speech and Hearing
I’m very, very thankful for all the things I can do. AND, it seems I can accomplish more and more each week. But when I forget to focus on how far I’ve come, and think too much of everything I want to accomplish, I can get frustrated.
Something that’s not as obvious to outsiders is that my stroke seems to have caused a kind of aphasia. During a social event recently, people had to ask me several times to repeat myself. Sara tells me that she finds I’m speaking more quietly. This may be a sign of hearing loss (of course, there is an age factor as well). But since the stroke, I find I can’t distinguish between a “v”, “d” or “p” when someone is speaking, making me misunderstand whatever they’re saying. And because of the stroke’s effects, I “hear” people slurring “s”s, even when they’re not. Almost every physio I spoke with about this said the same thing, “Matt, I think you’re noticing this because you’re you. Most stroke patients wouldn’t be this observant.” I guess it’s a blessing that that’s pretty much the stage of stroke recovery I’m at: the fine-tuning stage! (They did put me on a list for a stroke-related hearing specialist.)
On the plus side, I have recently become eligible for a beer that one of the hospital LPNs, Dionne, promised me last fall when I couldn’t move my hand. She said when I left the hospital that we’d go out for a pint of beer if and when I was able to raise the glass and “cheers” with my left hand. As of this week, I can now raise my left hand completely above my head, and I successfully cheers-ed Sara with a wobbly left handed glass of sparkling. (Ironically, my right arm now has a frozen shoulder from overuse!)
Another first: I was delighted this last week to pull the cord on our hand mower, start it up and actually cut grass. Both hands on the handle!
My Heart
A bit more on my heart surgery for those who may be interested: on April 23 in Halifax, the very professional, very personable – and very skilled – surgeon, Dr Sumaya, made an incision in my groin. He pushed a catheter tube through the incision and up into my heart’s upper chambers. Once it was in place he inserted a wire through it to explore the unusual gap that has existed, undetected, between my heart’s upper chambers since I was born. That hole allows blood (and potentially, clots) to slip through where they shouldn’t, taking a dangerous short-cut to the brain.
I was awake watching the screens. To me, what Dr Sumaya was doing looked like a plumber or electrician trying to thread a “fish line” through a tiny hole. He couldn’t do it, and told me that the gap was smaller than expected and perhaps they wouldn’t need to plug it after all. However, a quick “bubble test” determined there really was flow between the chambers (meaning: possible future brain clots).
“I’ve Never Done This Before”
A surgical huddle followed. I was on so many relaxation meds I didn’t catch most of it, until I heard the surgeon say: “Well, I’ve never done that before.”
THAT woke me up! I may have some of this garbled, but he explained that they proposed to push/drill a second hole between my heart’s chambers, large enough to pass the soft metal umbrella washers through, then bring them together to close both gaps.
He asked if I agreed. I did. Within a few minutes I could see something against the beating flesh of my heart that looked for all the world like a child’s drawing of a flower. “That’s the device,” said someone. Within minutes, all the surgical staff seemed happy. So I was too. “If that was the first time,” I said to Dr Sumaya, “you should write this up.” “Oh, it’s been done elsewhere in the world,” he answered, “just never here in Nova Scotia!”
My Energy and Weight
Did I mention fatigue? A side-effect of my taking on new things constantly is that some days I find myself taking naps. Lots of naps.
Partly because I don’t eat as quickly (too much chance of biting my cheek or tongue), I’m always the last to finish my plate. I tend to eat smaller portions than pre-stroke, and weirdly for anyone who knows my predilection for peanut buster parfaits, my appetite for sugar has diminished. The weight I lost last fall seems to be staying off. I have more of a taste for salt now, and enjoy making home-made pizza!
My Prospects
Now that it’s been nine months since my stroke, I’m realizing (yet again, for the umpteenth time) that recovery is a marathon, not a dash. In fact, recovery is a pilgrimage – one which has changed me more than any of my other walks, and one that I’m still on.
Thank you for your many good wishes, and for the support I still feel, and that still keeps me going. Just the other day, I heard voices at the door as I took a rest. It was the greenhouse crew that a year and a half ago, put in “Sara’s Forest,” the 50+ trees planted for her big birthday. They’d come to check on the trees…and to check on me!
My Birthday!
It was my birthday on May 30th – the BBQ was an unexpected present from Sara’s folks. Sara got me a lovely (made in BC) teak shower chair. Now I can take the old plastic one back to the Red Cross!
My birthday made me realize yet again how grateful I am to still be here. And grateful, too, that so many of you care enough to accompany me on this ongoing journey through stroke.
Several kind folks have messaged me recently asking for a health update, and saying they’ve missed my posts. The fact is: I’ve had a stroke-and-surgery update half-started on my laptop for maybe six weeks! But so much has been happening I couldn’t finish it until now.
In this post, I’ll share some of those events. In a forthcoming post, I’ll focus on more of the details of my actual health update — especially for those who’ve also had (or have loved ones who’ve had) major strokes, or who’ve had PFO Closure surgery, or who may be waiting for news of my hand and leg!
# 1 Heart Surgery in Halifax
A month ago I had a procedure to close the PFO (hole between the upper chambers) in my heart. I was kept awake for the surgery which went well …. but it meant long hours of final grading to finish beforehand, travelling the 2 1/2 hours to Halifax the night before, with Sara as my chauffeur, nurse, and help-mate, the operation itself (more on that in my next post, but a pivotal moment was hearing the surgeon say “I’ve never done that before”!), then trying to follow doctor’s orders (no lifting for a month) to recuperate.
#2 A Book in The Hand
The moment we drove down our driveway on the trip home from the hospital, my – now patched up – heart leaped. Two boxes sitting on the doorstep turned out to contain the first shipment of my latest book, Someone Else’s Saint: How a Scottish Pilgrimage Led to Nova Scotia (Pottersfield Press, an homage to Nova Scotia and to Scotland, and second-place winner of the 2025 Pottersfield Creative Prize for Non-fiction). Sara lugged the boxes in, as ten pounds is my upper limit for lifting while I recuperate. Excitement soon yielded to post-op fatigue…
#3 Throw a Tartan Over It
Just a few days after my return from hospital, I was able to launch Someone Else’s Saint at the wonderful Antigonish Heritage Museum. It was a lovely warm evening, thanks to the talents and scheduling flexibility of friends Barry Mackenzie (colleague from the StFX history department and director of the museum), Lewis MacKinnon (poet and Executive Director of Gaelic Affairs for Nova Scotia), and star musician Mary Beth Carty (Canadian Traditional Singer of the Year 2024). During setup, Barry rapidly produced a variety of tartans, one to cover the cardboard recycling, one for the book table staffed by Sara, and one for the treats baked by museum volunteers. He confided that one of the museum’s life hacks is “just throw a tartan over it.” Even though there were other community events that night, and grade deadlines and convocation to compete with, my (now hole-less) heart melted to see departmental colleagues, community members, and even fellow pilgrims all the way from Halifax come out in support.
The biggest thing that happened has yet to completely sink in. My always-happy, full-of-life-and-fun, strong as an ox brother in law Vern Enslen had died – a shock to us all, but above all to my sister Kandace in Medicine Hat. As soon as it was confirmed that I could safely fly after surgery, Sara and I booked the next flight to Alberta. There (still somewhat unsteady on my feet) I conducted the largest service the funeral director had seen in years. “By far,” were his words: “It’s a testament to Vern.” Vern, pictured below, was a gregarious and good-hearted extrovert who made friends with everyone – turned out the funeral director was a buddy as well. We spent valuable time with my sister, still in shock, and with other family, including crowds of my cousins Sara had never met. We had booked a “manager’s choice” car rental out of Calgary airport to save money, and were surprised to be handed the keys to a 2024 Mustang convertible. We both had the exact same thought: it would be just like Vern to arrange this from the great beyond, to remind us of the jovial, sport-loving, boisterous tone he would want his friends to take as they celebrated his life well lived. It seemed odd after a funeral, yet somehow fitting, to be cruising back to the airport with the top down. After the accumulated fatigue of grief, unexpected travel, working with my sister to arrange the funeral, and the intense two days of visiting, we returned to Nova Scotia on a red-eye flight that involved no sleep and a LOT of walking–the most I’d done since the stroke. Whewff.
#5 Heart’s Desire
The night of the funeral turned out to also be the night of the Saskatchewan Book Awards gala. Before Vern’s death, I’d been notified that The Good Walk: Creating New Paths on Traditional Prairie Trails was shortlisted. An unimaginable dream come true, for a book so close to my heart — a memoir of my family’s history and our prairie walks, intertwined with the troubled history of Canada’s prairies. But after Vern’s death, the nomination fled to a dusty corner of my mind. Immediately following the funeral, I collapsed into bed at our Medicine Hat hotel, and didn’t even think to check for the winners. Then an email pinged in from my friend and fellow walker Simone Hengen, who was attending the gala in Saskatoon. She sent a photo of what she was seeing on screen at that moment: a Powerpoint showing The Good Walk. At first, I didn’t understand what I was looking at. Then I saw the little gold medallion that said “winner.” University of Regina Press had won the Creative Saskatchewan Publishing Award for my book! It was strange to be jubilant in the midst of loss, but again it felt fitting as I remembered that Kandace and Vern, with his eternal ingenuity and myriad connections, had done so much to outfit me for the long walks across the Prairies recounted in this book.
#6 Faint of Heart
Shortly after we arrived back home, earth-moving equipment showed up to widen our driveway and build a gravel platform for the trailer Sara’s parents Winston and Shirley are going to use as their summer cottage on our property. The platform and driveway were a great success – as an added bonus, they evaded a future problem when they spotted an issue with our septic tank and promptly fixed it. However, the delivery guy from Bouctouche NB didn’t have the gumption to manoeuvre the trailer into place. He was nervous about backing up, and afraid to raise the telephone wires a few inches to clear the air conditioner on top of the unit. In the end he abandoned the huge trailer on the side of the road and went back to New Brunswick, leaving us hoping for the best. Just then, a typical Pomquet neighbour stopped to chat. (No strangers here, only neighbours waiting to happen.) She offered her husband Joe’s tractor and services. The next day, Victoria Day, Joe Rennie showed up and had the unit parked in no time. Sara used our Canadian Tire snow rake duct-taped to a branch clipper to hold up the wires for the trailer to clear. Now, if we can just nab the electrician for hookup, Sara’s parents’ move will be complete…
#7 Heart-Recovery
I want to be sure to mention this: while I’ve posted a lot about my writerly highlights above, life is life. It’s also true that during these last few weeks I got two disheartening manuscript rejections from publishers, and I heard that I’d not received a different book prize for which I’d been shortlisted!
You get the picture. Between surgeries, book prizes, book launches, manuscript rejections, tragic funerals, and major construction we’ve been through quite the roller coaster of events and emotions. Major ups and downs. It feels like a year’s worth of changes have been jammed into a few short weeks.
The surgery and the busy-ness have certainly affected my recovery. More on that very soon in my next post.
This prairie boy remembers feeling on top of the world when he got called a “Montreal Creative” by Nantali Indongo on CBC Radio One Montreal in 2012:
But I have to admit being “author Matthew Anderson of Antigonish, Nova Scotia” feels pretty great in 2025. That’s my moniker in this “Story Behind the Story” interview for the South Branch Scribbler. Interviewer Allan Hudson is a New Brunswick writer and promoter of writing, and The South Branch Scribbler is his blog. He reached out to talk about the backstory of Someone Else’s Saint: How a Scottish Pilgrimage Led to Nova Scotia, published this coming week.
If you live near Moncton NB, I’ll be joining Allan at the 3rd Annual Greater Moncton Riverview Dieppe Book Fair, April 26 2025. Riverview Lion’s Centre 10am to 3pm.
If you live further afield, Someone Else’s Saint is available from Indigo, or by request at those two symbols that the world is still a good and just place: your independent bookseller or your public library.
Wow. Hard to believe it’s been six months since a shudder ran down my left arm and I found myself unable to speak for a couple seconds and Sara called an ambulance and ran for the aspirin.
And…the TIA and major stroke and everything that followed.
When I was wheeled into St Martha’s Regional hospital on a stretcher last September I had no idea it would be home for three months. Autumn was just beginning.
Now here we are at the spring equinox, six months later. The day before spring, the ice came off our little inlet, and those annoying fake ladybugs are waking up all around the house.
The solar panels we had installed last fall are finally free of snow and making power (I check them compulsively).
The seedlings we planted last year have survived.
All signs of spring. Another sign: I’ll have to learn how to tie my shoes again, since pull-on winter boot season is nearly over.
Here’s what else is happening…
My Heart Procedure
I had a pre-op appointment in Halifax last month, and Sara and I used our rare visit to the big city to have a date at IKEA (how romantic!). We then bought a car-load of groceries we can’t get in Antigonish at the surprisingly-well-stocked hole-in-the-wall that is Big Ray Convenience and Asian Store in Dartmouth.
During the appointment the surgeon teased us about being professors and grading him – but we said he already got an A+ just for taking me on. The procedure to close my PFO (Patent Foramen Ovale) will take place in a few weeks, in April. It involves inserting a soft metal “umbrella” into my heart through a tube inserted in my groin. (Really looking forward.) Once in place, it expands to close the hole in between the upper chambers of my heart (for explanation see here). Of course I’m nervous. But I’m thankful it’s considered a low-risk procedure, with recovery times of only a couple of days in most cases, and well worth it for the significant reduction in future stroke risk.
This last month I caught the flu. It really knocked back my energy … and my stroke progress. Fortunately, Sara quarantined in the other end of the house and sanitized like a surgeon and didn’t catch it, and nursed me back to health over the week or so when I was most affected. I recovered in time to lead our team-taught StFX Religious Studies class “Intro to World Religions” on a field trip to Saint Ninian Cathedral, where Father Danny MacLennan seemed delighted to welcome a gaggle of young people, and even took some brave souls down to the crypt “where the bishops are buried.”
Hearts in Motion
Twice a week I drive to town, park at a handicapped spot on campus, and spend an hour at the gym with about ten others, as part of a public health program called “Hearts in Motion.”. The others are there post heart attack or heart surgery, mostly: as far as I can tell, I’m the only stroke survivor (I’m the only participant with partial paralysis…trying to do the “windmill” warm ups with my left arm). I didn’t know what to expect starting out, but going to the gym has been great for me. The first weeks I couldn’t even get on the elliptical machine, much less use it. Now it’s my favourite. I can actually hold the moving hand grips, and release the left one and grasp it again mid-step (sometimes). The program’s physio suggested I try the rowing machine. I was doubtful – I’ve never liked that device. But he was right: the pairing of my left and right arms that’s necessary for “pulling back” the rope and handle seems to be very good for training my affected left arm to stretch and reach. There are only four more sessions, so I may have to get a membership for spring and summer just to keep up on the machines. I’m still incapable of running, even very slowly, on a treadmill. I’d trip and fall. But I’m more and more tempted to try, just briefly…
Left Legand Foot
I’m fortunate that the Physio and Occupational Therapist outpatient departments at St Martha’s hospital are still keeping me on. They say they keep seeing progress, and tell me I’m unusual (I think in a good way?). At my most recent strength and flexibility test, the physio told me that I’ve recovered close to normal strength in my left leg. “But I still have quite a limp,” I told her. “You can see that.” “That’s your brain,” she replied. “At some point it may get back to automatically lifting your foot and adjusting your gait. But there’s no way of knowing when that might happen…” I’m hoping this is like a pilgrimage path in Scotland that I was on with Ken Wilson and Christine Ramsay. Our guide at the time told us: “Use is the cure.” The other evening some great music came on and Sara and I had a quick dance. At the end of it she was laughing: “that felt like before your stroke,” she said. “You were leading like the old Matthew!” Ahhh….that’s what I’m aiming at.
Left Armand Hand
My use of my left hand continues to improve….but very, very slowly, from my perspective. My guitar chording continues to get better: now I can play E,D,A, and G with minimal help from my right hand. But it’s slow, and my strength in pressing down the strings sometimes lacks. I gave up entirely on trying to type with it. I’ll have to get back to that.
Janna, my wonderful therapy aid at St. Martha’s, makes me attempt to move clothespins from a steel wire as a strength exercise for my left hand. But what I enjoy most is playing catch with her! I’ve gotten to the point where on a good day I can catch a gently tossed tennis ball with my left hand, against my stomach, several times, and often succeed in tossing it back, although sometimes my hand won’t let the ball go.
The issue with my hand is what is called “tension” or “spasticity.” My fingers will be loose until I squeeze something (say, toothpaste). Then, instead of loosening again, my fingers stay curled – locked! Sometimes the best technique is to ignore the hand briefly, until the fingers relax again on their own. It’s a bit like trying to fool your own brain. The spasticity seems to be diminishing. But it’s a slow process.
My first submission of my “stroke poetry collection” went nowhere, so I’ll be editing the poetry and trying again. But yesterday I got great news that really lifted my spirits! My memoir The Good Walk: Creating New Paths on Traditional Prairie Trails is shortlisted in the “Publishing” category for the 2025 Saskatchewan Book Awards! On May 9 there will be a fancy awards ceremony in Regina, with the lieutenant governor in attendance. For now my cardiac doctor is telling me no travel. But I can’t wait for May! I’m trying to get my brother Mark, who lives there, to go in my place JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUST in case there is an award to accept.
The End of Term Approaches
All of the hospital staff seemed shocked that I planned to go back to work upon discharge. I don’t regret going back to teaching so soon. But now that the term is winding down I’m realising just how much energy it’s taking for me to go to town four days a week for teaching and physio (and, of course, I’ll stop by the grocery store or Canadian Tire often as well). The OT consultant from Halifax couldn’t believe my weekly schedule. “Of course you’re not getting through all your home exercises,” she said. “When would you do them?” Her main advice to me was to take it easier, especially after I developed frozen shoulder in my right arm last month. Sara declared the dishwasher (reaching down to load and reaching up to put dishes away) off limits and slapped a hefty 100-dollar fine on any disobedience!!! (I only made that mistake once.)
So taking it easy is part of my plan for spring. I’ll take inspiration from the Christmas cactus Sara bought me last fall for the hospital. It budded at Christmas. But in the end, no flowers materialised. Only now, after the equinox, at home, are the blooms coming.
I pray that in your life and mine, there will be delicate beauty developing in its own time this spring. In a world where small, powerful men seem so determined to distract us from their greed and incompetence by emphasizing division, brutality, and ugliness, may we be like this Christmas cactus: blooming boldly, especially where and when it is least expected, and most appreciated.
“Dad, can I borrow the car tonight? I promise I’ll fill ‘er up.”
After my stroke, I was required by law to take my driver’s tests (written and practical) again, as a “one-armed driver.” I went in to Access Nova Scotia for an oral exam on road rules and safety, a road signs quiz, and a 45-minute road test. My jovial inquisitor was Teresa. At the end of it all, I officially got to keep my driver’s license.
Yayyy!!! I feel SO thankful.
The Driving Exam
It seems fitting that my 90-min driving exam took place almost five months to the day from my stroke back in September. I was supposed to take it a week ago. But I hurt my unaffected right arm last week overworking it (trying to rake snow off our solar panels, I think, or maybe it was that time I carried in all the groceries at once). It took a week for my “driving arm” to recover enough to turn a corner without grimacing.
Was I nervous? Of course! It will be – unbelievably to me – 50 years this June since I passed my first driver’s test in Regina, Saskatchewan (the above grouchy photo was taken a year or two after that time….I’ve since learned to smile!). The very professional and friendly Teresa here in Antigonish was all smiles when we got back to the provincial office. “Look at that,” she said, holding out her clipboard. “I barely wrote a thing. Sometimes I have to fill these sheets! You got just enough points deducted to prove you’re human.” I know one of the two things I got docked for was not signalling when I left a roundabout, but it was because I couldn’t safely take my right hand off the wheel to get all the way over to the turn signal while making that sharp a turnoff.
Appointments, Appointments, Appointments
Since Sara and I live in the country, not having a driver’s license would have meant a major life change. These days I’m teaching two days a week at Saint Francis Xavier University, 17 km down the highway. (Last week’s midterm exam for Bible and Film pictured above!) A normal week also means driving in two mornings for the Nova Scotia Cardio rehab program “Hearts in Motion” at the StFX Amelia Saputo Centre gym, where I and a dozen other heart patients get sessions on exercise and diet and 75 minutes on the treadmills, stationary bikes, and (for me) elliptical machines. I usually bump into one or two of my students, which is nice. Twice a week I also head back to the stroke rehab centre at the hospital, now as an outpatient. There I do 30 minutes of physio and 45 minutes of occupational therapy. Then there are all the appointments for blood tests, stress tests, reassessments, and consults, most here, but some coming up in Halifax.
I remember the old folks always complaining about how busy they were with appointments. Preoccupied juggling multiple part-time jobs and kids, I remember thinking: that’s hardly something to keep a body busy. Boy was I was wrong! I’ve needed to post myself a schedule just to keep all my rendezvous’ straight and out of conflict with my teaching times. I’ve also apparently joined that group of people who have to remember to take multiple pills daily, counting them out carefully every evening.
Me and My Big PFO
A big date for me comes up the end of this month in Halifax: my initial cardiac procedure pre-appointment. In case you missed my earlier mention of this: apparently I have a “PFO,” a hole between the upper chambers of the heart. This hole exists in newborns, but in almost all people closes in very early infancy. In a small percentage of us, that hole never closes. A PFO can allow a clot from the leg to pass directly to the brain rather than being shunted safely to the lungs for “processing.”
No one seems to know for sure if this is what happened to me. But it may have been. Something poetic about the fact I have a hole in my heart.
At my pre-appointment they’ll confirm whether I’m a candidate to have that hole closed with an arthroscopic procedure involving magnetized rubber washers. Of course I’d like that procedure asap. I don’t want another stroke (although I’m grateful for the meds that have finally brought my blood pressure down from the mountaintops)! But I know I’m fortunate to be seen so quickly about this. For now, on the doctor’s advice I’m not flying or taking long drives. A trip to Montreal to see the kids, or speaking at Gathering of Pilgrims 2025 in Vancouver as planned, are out.
Refuse the Plateau!
The book “Stronger After Stroke” that was sent to me by Greg and Ingrid Gust says that a good rule for stroke survivors is to refuse to accept the idea of “a plateau” limiting their recovery. So that’s what I’m doing. And amazingly, I have yet to see a plateau. Every single day, I see slight but noticeable improvements. For instance, I typed this sentence using the three fingers of my left hand….not easy, nor graceful, but a start.
I sometimes feel disappointed for still having a pronounced limp when I walk (my arm and leg spasticity, or tightness, becomes much worse when I’m cold). Then Sara reminds me that I’m also walking through snow, and up and down multiple flights of stairs at the gym and the university (holding the railing). So there’s that.
The physios at the hospital filmed me walking. “This isn’t for us,” they said. “This is for you, so you can see how far you’ve come.” Sara came into our living room last week to find me lying on the floor. I’d been trying to squat the way I used to pre-stroke. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I tipped over,” I said, not moving. “Do you need help getting up?” she asked gently. “No.” Sometimes, flat on your back, you just gotta laugh.
My proudest news is that for the first time I can actually make a couple of chords on my guitar… WITHOUT always using my right hand to “arrange” my left fingers. Before Christmas I couldn’t even keep my left hand on the guitar without it sliding off under its own weight. Now, the feeling of very slowly moving my left fingers into an A or D chord (the easiest) is pure joy. A stroke-specialist in Halifax I met with over Zoom said to keep at the guitar daily. That seems to be the key: my daily routines, using my left hand as much as possible, even though it takes so much more time (you’d chuckle to see me spending three minutes trying to fish a spoon out of the cutlery drawer for my tea – do you remember Tim Conway’s SOOOOO-slow routines from the Carol Burnett show?).
Book Launch!
One of the best parts of being at least partly back in the routine is getting back to my writing. With my colleague Barry from the History Department who also happens to run the Antigonish Heritage Museum where I was first invited to give the talk that ended up ballooning into my new book, we’ve set a date for the launch — fittingly at the museum! “Someone Else’s Saint: How a Scottish Pilgrimage Led to Nova Scotia” launches there on Thursday April 24th, at 7 pm. I’ll tell the story of the book and do a reading or two, some of the local walkers will attend (I hope), and fingers are crossed for some fine local music! Two days later, Sat April 26th, I’ll be in New Brunswick for the Greater Moncton Riverview Dieppe Book Fair from 10 am to 3 pm. The book is already getting some nice attention, with a planned CBC Radio (All in a Weekend) interview. It’s only in pre-sales, but it’s already listed as #15 in Amazon Canada’s “hot-sellers” in its category (see below). But please don’t buy it there … pre-order it through your local bookstore instead! 🇨🇦
Taking Time for Warm Stanfields and for Berry Blossoms
Like everyone else, I’m having a hard time not doom-scrolling and feeling anxious these days because of the news. But my stroke recovery books – and my common sense – tell me that what’s best for my condition is to maintain a hopeful and constructive attitude, and allow my self-discipline and anxiety to be tempered by humour and forgiveness (good advice for us all). So I’m going to be lining up some post-stroke, retirement-adjacent therapy. I’ll try to dial down the work and dial up the creative writing a bit more all the time. And even on my lower sodium, fat and sugar regime, there’s some room for the occasional self-indulgence, such as these 100% Quebec-made “Berry Blossoms.”
As you might be able to tell from this photo of the moon rise over our neighbours’ place, it’s been cold here in Pomquet – and the cold affects me more since my stroke. So it’s also been great to discover that the “Stanfields” long johns of my youth is now a full clothing line, made since before Canada was even a country, just down the road in Truro Nova Scotia. I bought myself a sleeping shirt and Sara a tee-shirt for Valentine’s. These days, I think we can all agree with the logo.
If by chance you’re thinking of saying goodbye to Facebook at some point, please consider subscribing to this blog as a way of staying in touch. Thank you for following me along on this pilgrimage through stroke, and may the support you’ve given me return to you in a thousand ways. Courage and health to you, from our home to yours!
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