This past Sunday marked the anniversary of my husband’s stroke in 2002. It seems like Bryan’s stroke is lifetimes away and yet I can feel the same lump in my throat as I recall that phone call from him the following morning telling me he needed an ambulance. We had been dating for about two years and were engaged in our near nightly phone conversation after he and I had each gotten off work. At that time, we were dating long distance and he was commuting back and forth from his small town to mine on weekends. In between, we’d connect after work by phone to talk about our days and what we’d like to do the following weekend together. But on this particular evening, we were both grumpy and tired. I could hear Bryan squirming and moving around on the couch and he told me his right side was tingly, nearly asleep. Must be that he slept on it wrong or worked it too hard at work, he said. A tinge of concern hit me and I voiced it. We fussed a little about how clingy I was being, but quickly made up before we said our goodnights and each went to our respective beds. I didn’t sleep well all night wondering. Something didn’t seem right, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I started to call him again to check in on him, but stopped myself. It was well after midnight by then and we both had to get up early for work. Still, I slept fitfully and was awakened the next morning by Bryan’s hesitant voice. “Don’t worry. I’m OK, but I’ve called an ambulance and Mom and Dad,” he said. I popped straight up out of bed, nearly knocking over my wheelchair next to me. I asked him what was wrong, ready to grab my keys and blow off work in my messy hair and worn out night gown. He demanded I stay put, that he would call me when he figured out something. He had managed to limp to the shower and get clothes on, but the tingling in his arm and leg were getting worse. Reluctantly I stayed put, but I kept grabbing the phone or my keys at my desk, wanting to hurl myself across the distance between here and there to get to where he was. I was terrified. He called a little while later to tell me the doctor had told him it was a stroke. He was having even more difficulty moving his right side and it was basically numb to the point of painful tingling. He was treated and sent home with his parents where he stayed for...

During this Mother’s Day weekend, I’ve been thinking about how my mother became such a strong advocate and stoked that fire inside of me.  From the time she knew she was pregnant with me, she has told me she recognized the importance of becoming an advocate for herself as a woman with a sensitive pregnancy and a champion for change in the varied communities I would develop in. Our collective story has been one of one upmanship. We’ve consistenty flown in the face of all the ‘experts’ and naysayers buzzing around us. From the time the doctors told my mother I would have a disability or ‘something wrong’ with me and suggested she may want to ‘end it’ to save her life and/or my own, she developed healthy filters and I built them myself by her example. This is not going to become a pro-life or pro-choice piece. It is simply that she chose to ignore professional opinions and challenge the status quo. It took a lot of risks and guts and love to carry me those nine long, draining months. And somehow, somewhere in her heart, she knew it would pay off. Not every mother is so lucky, I know, but somehow she made it. We made it. From the time I broke the nine-month lease sharing space within her, doctors said I would not leave the critical care unit alive, would not respond to her voice, would never go home, would never sit up, go to school, be independent — be anything productive. You get the picture. Still, she doggedly reached for and pursued each of those milestones with me. Watching my tiny head turn in the isolette incubator as she whispered my name, feeling my tiny fingers squeeze hers through the glass, she cheered me beyond the limits others had already set in their minds about my life without really knowing her strength as a mother, without really knowing what the power of assuming in their fields really means to some families. It took a few weeks, several months maybe? But, I went home with her,  learned to sit up, to speak in complete simple sentences by 18 months (so she tells me), to walk on leg braces and a walker by the time I was about three. By age four, I threw the walker down and was on faster, swinging crutches, ready to drag expensive, custom steel and leather leg braces up trees in the yard. In spite of the Florida kindergarten I went to not wanting me there because they presumed I’d ‘fit better in a special school’, she homeschooled me briefly until it was settled (not without a few legal threats) that I could attend public school among my peers without disabilities. And into the mainstream I swimmed, like a happy, grade...

Being on bed rest, for me, has been frustrating over these last couple of months. You see, I’m typically a very active and independent life coach on wheels. I’ve been a paraplegic all my life.  I’ve had plenty of time to learn to adapt without the use of my legs. However, a temporary setback occurred with pressure sores on my upper legs and my left heel. My wheelchair cushion and the way I was sitting is where the problems began and continue. I’ve changed the wheelchair cushion to be more supportive, but until my wounds heal, I am limited to bed most of the day. Now, I must adapt to being on bed rest, tossing and turning to alleviate too much pressure in one spot. I hope another lesson in adaptability is something I can bring to the table for my clients and you readers as well. I’m enduring the monotony of periodic turning in bed to relieve pressure, long days of rest while on antibiotics to fight infections as they ebb and flow from my body. As I do this, I blog, connect with contacts by phone and internet and build my business acumen. No grass is growing under this life coaches wheels or rear.  Yes, I occasionally sneak out a little while for fresh air with my husband’s help, but most of the day I am in bed, legs outstretched and raised above my heart to promote better circulation. I’m on endless fluids, healthy food and supplements to keep the systems well-tuned. And, even on bed rest, I exercise my upper body to keep me limber. Thoughts of amputation of my left foot sometimes creep in as I see little improvement in my left heel. I refuse to allow it to happen, but if it does I know that the sum of who I am is not tied in how many limbs are attached to my body or how well the limbs I do have work. I am who I am regardless the number of appendages I have. I’m still a wife, friend, life coach, speaker, blogger, writer, and motivator. A starfish is still a starfish even when one of its legs is cut off. Granted its appendages have the power to grow back, but we have the power to grow other things from the inside when something from the outside is taken. In the absence of one physical appendage, I know the extension of my intelligence, attitude and the impact I make on others, continues to have a ripple effect for each person in whom I instill a little more self confidence and power through my friendship, coaching, speaking and writing. Those are just a few of the...

First of all, let me apologize for being a model slacker and not meeting your expectation of a weekly deadline. I have no excuses. No “dog ate my homework” line. No “well, Martians kidnapped me and they broke my computer” cover. I may be on focused bed rest at the moment and making a lot of online and phone contacts, but that’s no reason to neglect my goal of a bi-weekly if not weekly blog post to you. So, you will get no excuses. And you, too, should stop making excuses and make the commitment to get back in action in whatever it is you’ve been meaning to do. Show appreciation to others who have been waiting expectantly and proceed. You can multitask. I multitask, even from bed with my legs propped up. Last time, I wrote about remodeling your state of wellness—not just from within the body, but from the outside. Work on your outer wellness in the form of restful clothing, creative and easy methods for cleanliness, and polishing your outer glow to draw in those inner wellness vibes (or even a few more visitors) as you’re going through whatever illness you are facing.   Once you have your sacred body space shining, you just might have some energy to either do-it-yourself or make a to-do list for someone else to help you create a healthy haven where you are on bed rest. I don’t care if it’s your bed room, your living room. Even if the kids have been mean enough to sequester you’re ailing body to the attic or basement, it is pay back time by making the space better than ever. Put yourself and someone else to work on redecorating your space so it’s easy to get to everything you need, fun, restful and a wellness magnet. Here are some suggestions: Being on bed rest for you maybe a short-term, long-term or permanent endeavor. Regardless of the length of time on bed rest, it’s important to keep your mind stimulated and use this time to let your creative side blossom while creating your healthful haven of rest. Who knows? You might end up helping another friend on bed rest when you yourself are more well.   When decorating your wellness haven it is important to think about surrounding yourself in restful (as well as stimulating) colors, fabrics and objects. You may find yourself staring up at the ceiling a lot. Using colorful posters of interest to you, or dangling 3D art objects and mobiles to the ceiling will keep you stimulated. Mobiles aren’t just for babies anymore! The posters can be rotated on a regular basis, to offer a change and keep your eyes...

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been what many would call “homebound” and “bedridden”, but I refuse to completely succumb to those necessary terms for medical and insurance purposes. I’m also a feisty, certified,  life transition coach on wheels armed with wit and a “chipped glass filled to overflowing” view of my life and yours. Life is never perfect, but it can so be filled to overflowing with good things to sustain you. Even from bed with legs propped up, I am growing and nurturing a thriving motivational, educational business. To me, “home-bound” sounds like I’m tied to the bed like some dastardly, handlebar mustachioed villain has me, the damsel in distress, captured at the railroad tracks. Not true! I’m unable to get out and about independently right now due to a temporary chronic illness that will surely flair up again at some point, but I’ll deal with it when it does. For now, I deal in powerful self-healing. My prescribed position is that I lie in bed with legs propped up to stimulate healing circulation through my legs. In truth, I’m on temporary leave from the usual routine of being “on a roll”. The term “bedridden” conjures images of a mattress with a maniacal face and clawed fists bearing down on me. In fact, I am really “bedriding”! (Copyrighted term 2009 by Monica J. Foster. All rights reserved.) Uh uh! I saw you trying to get at that term. No, no, no. Don’t touch it. Just read. Part of my healing process is going to be about turning the concept of being bedridden on it’s ear, taking control of my wellness in an active and humorous way. I’m like a cowgirl bedriding the range of health statuses, ready to wrangle full body and spiritual well-being to the ground. Yee-haw! I am riding the wave of wellness on TOP of the mattress, not beneath it cowering and smothered by fear of the unknown. Sure, I’m afraid and upset by all of this some days, but fear isn’t a stopping point. Fear is my open opportunity to lasso strength and wellness for myself and others around me. I will not crawl under the bed and cower in fear. Hmmm, I wonder if that’s where my other sock is? Anyway, I am riding as high as possible (without pain pills, thanks) with my mind firmly knotted in the reins and a whip to keep it in line if I have my way. Does all this bed rest annoy me? YES! I’d much rather be rolling down steep ramps to feel the wind in my face, networking or out with friends. Until then, I’m bedriding, attempting to buck the stale, conventional images of ill, having as much fun as possible to spite the...