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I was not going to write about any of this, because of the pure joy of my daughter’s wedding. But the simple truth is that I need this outlet, and it would not feel true to my blog or to the story of PSP as I am living it if I left the rest of the week unspoken.
So here it is: my version a week that undoubtedly describes the famous phrase from Sublime to the Ridiculous.
The Sublime
First, the joy. Undeniably, overwhelmingly, 150 percent joy.
The video I shared earlier (and attach again) says it all: I made it. I was there. I danced with life in a way I would not trade for anything. Being fully present, being the father of the bride, feeling that moment so completely, is something I will hold forever.
Sunday was, and still is, the best day of my life.
The Ridiculous
But I cannot deny the distress that surrounded it.
The war changed everything. Our plans, adhering to the new rules, the venue, the town, the guest list, even the drive to the wedding. An incoming missile alert on the highway forced us onto the shoulder. Add to that the stress of recent weeks, higher blood pressure, choking‑related diet changes, and reduced exercise because of the wheelchair, and it all piled up.
With the stress came quietly increasing amounts of coffee, alcohol, and, as I have admitted before, ice cream. These small comforts added up, especially with the diagnosis still pending.
At the end of the wedding, I froze.
The next day, not feeling well, I skipped the evening event. Then things became stranger. My entire right side, from leg to arm to face, froze or felt paralysed. It lasted long enough that we called an ambulance.
Halfway through my exam in the ER, it suddenly cleared, like fog lifting. Both my son and the doctor saw it happen.
After a CT scan and discussions with two neurologists (including mine by email), they concluded it was probably a TIA, aka a mini‑stroke. PSP does not cause one‑sided episodes like this. They wanted to admit me for tests (MRI, ECC, ECG etc). I asked to go home and do them as an outpatient, and they agreed.
Eight hours in the ER including two missile alerts while already in the hospital, including one in the unprotected CT area where people in beds and wheelchairs raced for cover, made for a night I hope never to repeat.
The Positive Balance
Afterwards, I rested. I slept. Slowly my thinking settled again.
I am trying to refocus on the basics: relaxing, cutting stressful triggers by removing nationwide siren alerts and apps like X from my phone, listening to music, adding careful exercise, improving my diet within current safety limits to still avoid choking, and chilling as much as possible. None of this comes naturally to me, but it is necessary.
I even made it to the post‑wedding party last night and enjoyed it enormously. Today I feel mostly normal, with only a touch of mental shakiness.
There are two ways to view this.
It is good that this was not a sudden progression of PSP.
It is not good to have a TIA.
But it is helpful to receive a warning that it is time to rebalance before something more serious happens.
Stress can be as dangerous as PSP, if not more. I need to watch my diet, move more, relax, and not let the turmoil around me undo the things I can still control.
I now take my stroke‑prevention medication faithfully, monitor my vital signs, and leave the rest in God’s hands.
For now, I am living the joy of being a father of the bride, with one more family celebration coming soon. After that, I will return to resting, enjoying retirement, starting with a carer organized for Sunday, and following my doctor’s recommendations.
Perhaps it says something about PSP that I took a TIA relatively calmly, apart from a few forgivable panic attacks eased by breathing, music, medication, and resolve. I am not ignoring it. I am acting on it. I let some basics slip, including stress levels, diet, extra coffee, alcohol, and ice cream, and now it is time to correct that, at least to a reasonable extent.
For now, I am going to take a couple of days away from posting, relax with Netflix, and give myself a proper rest. And maybe just a little ice cream, because transitions require gentleness.
Faith
I remain eternally grateful to Him above for this week. I will treasure it forever. The pure and unfiltered joy passed quickly however, and now I continue on the path in front of me. I trust it leads somewhere meaningful, somewhere good. And a small bowl of vanilla has come my way as I write this.
