Casey’s Story

I am extremely honored to share my story of recovery from a devastating illness with you in this AFC section about ‘Stories of Hope & Strength’. If I can inspire and assist anyone that is going through troubled times, then my sharing of this story is worth while. Most of the things I will share with you have come to me through some very difficult lessons. My story is about stroke recovery.

Art has always played an important role in my life and I have felt closest to my spirit with a paint brush in my hand. My artistic journey, like most artists, began early in life and started with coloring in coloring books with my grandmother as a child, extending through grammar school and high school in art classes, graduating from art college with a BFA in drawing & painting, to becoming a free lance artist, a fashion designer, teaching art in public high school, and eventually, after my stroke, getting a master’s degree and becoming an instructor at a community college.

As I traveled my path through my life in young adulthood, I had no idea of the hardship, pain, and suffering that I would face or that my drawing and painting would play such a profound positive and life saving role in my personal struggle to recover from a devastating left hemisphere brain-stem stroke, which I experienced four days after my 36th birthday.

Late one chilly October night my stroke occurred. It hit hard, it was quick and it was deadly. I can recall that night in my mind as if it happened yesterday, instead of all those years ago. I was up late working on a presentation I was going to present to my peers at a convention of the Orange County Art Educators Association. When I finally crawled into bed, I felt OK but I was very tired. A few hours later, I remember being woken up by a strange burning sensation across the bridge of my nose. I sat straight up in bed and woke my husband to tell him that I didn’t feel so good. He said, “Go back to sleep, you’ll be alright”. The sensation continued. I sat up again almost immediately and said, “I really don’t feel so good”. The words came out fine in my head but my husband said, “I can’t understand you”, and began dressing to take me to the hospital. I didn’t “get” that I was having a stroke but luckily he did! Then I suddenly felt sick and tried to get up to go to the bathroom and vomit. However, I couldn’t get up because my right side would not cooperate at all. So, I vomited there at the side of the bed. I remember him carrying me to our jeep and strapping me in with the seat belt. By the time we arrived at the hospital, which was only about 10 minutes away, I was slumped in the seat and profusely drooling.

I was taken to the emergency room where it seemed it took doctors and staff a really long time to figure out what was happening to me. Because I couldn’t speak, doctors assumed I was not of present mind and did not communicate with me personally. I was moved to the Intensive Care Unit and remained there for about a week. At this point, all I could do was roll my eyes. The right side of my body was completely paralyzed and my left side in total shock. I couldn’t breathe on my own, open my mouth and wiggle my tongue, or swallow. They fitted me with a feeding tube. My vision was upside down. And I remember watching it right itself over about 3 or 4 days. Slowly, slowly, my vision clicked like a clock counter clockwise until it had righted itself again. That was very strange! I was very scared. Besides, didn’t strokes just happen to old people in their 90’s? After that first week, I was moved to a long-term rehab unit in the hospital.

The prognosis for my recovery was not good. I was told I might recover a little movement but probably would not walk or talk normally again. I would not be able to regain the use of my right arm and I certainly would not be able to teach again. I guess we are told the worst so if we make just some progress we will be happy with that. I was devastated. I was scared, angry, depressed, and would cry for days on end. I am happy to report after years of personal struggle and determination, I walk, I talk, I teach, and I paint. However, I did not recover the use of my dominant right arm and hand.

I went through the beginnings of my recovery kicking and screaming. In the beginning of my recovery, I was victim all the way and inside screaming bloody murder! I spent months in rehab at the hospital until my health insurance ran out and then years doing rehab on my own at home. It’s interesting how the universe likes to play tricks on us. When something devastating happens to us in life, it’s like the flood gates are swung wide open and all hell breaks lose. Other areas of your life begin to fall apart as well. Marriage difficulties, financial upheaval, job loss, you name it! Well, I encountered it all!

My husband left and my daughter, Kelly, and I had to make it alone. Without money coming in, we could not pay rent or utilities and we were evicted from our home. We ended up on food stamps and welfare. We faced many challenges. As the American Indians would say, “we walked the long red road and entered the dark shadow of the night”. And through it all we were able to laugh. Well, most of the time. I am a firm believer in the healing power of laughter. My daughter is a fun loving spirit. She has a great sense of humor and no matter how crazy things got or what predicaments we found ourselves in, Kelly would find something funny in the situation and she would get us laughing. Laughter is one of the best medicines I know of – well, except maybe the ‘cure all’ miracle drug Pepto-Bismol. As time passed slowly, I began to learn from my experience of tragedy and loss.

I have found that it is important to love ourselves again, to be accepting and tolerant, and be open to what our lives are now. To help me with this concept, I learned about wabi-sabi, the art of imperfection. Wabi-sabi is the Japanese tradition of celebrating the beauty in what’s flawed or worn. It offers an inspiring way to look at your whole life. To discover wabi-sabi is to see the singular beauty in something that may first look decrepit and ugly. Bringing wabi-sabi into your life requires a mind quiet enough to appreciate muted beauty, to find courage not to fear, and a willingness to accept things the way they are. Wabi-sabi can be adopted as a way of seeing and being in the world. To acquire wabi-sabi, I began practicing meditation for stress reduction. The important thing is to always follow your heart, your truth, and remain open to what comes your way. Once in a while, I still take a trip down that now familiar long red road and visit those dark shadows, but for the most part, I focus on other things, maintain a positive attitude, and remember what I’ve learned.

In recovery, it is essential to make the shift from what you have lost to what can I do with this experience now? It is important to think about, what lessons am I learning here? How will this experience help me grow as a human being? Why am I on this path? If we choose to look at our experience in this way, having a devastating illness can be a profound spiritual journey. I am who I am today because of my stroke. I am a better person and I would not change a thing. I have learned what is truly important in life. I believe my stroke happened for a reason. Knowing what I know now, if someone had told me ahead of time that I would have a stroke, I would say “Bring it on, I’m ready!”

As I mentioned earlier, art has always been a part of my life. As soon as I could sit for more than just a minute in my wheelchair, I began practicing holding a pencil in my left hand and started doodling and scribbling and such. I intuitively knew that, for me, I needed to get drawing again. And fast, if I was going to save myself.

I began drawing with a vengeance. I drew everyday at least 5 drawings a day. I incorporated it into my home rehab routine. I am not saying drawing is for everyone. It is important for you to listen to your truth and find what feels right for you. However, I have found drawing to be a profound healing tool. There is a tremendous power in the act of creative expression. I found it to be inspiring and it improved my self-esteem and self-worth. During those dark days, my art and creative expression told me ‘never give up’!

A few years ago, I took up my paint brush again and began painting publically with my left hand. I paint Sumi-e, which for me, is a meditation and a spiritual art journey. My heartfelt mission is to tell everyone on the planet that there is hope and life after stroke or any traumatic life-altering experience. I want to inspire others not only with my words but also with my art. I joined the AFC Group to give back to our community and fight the terrible illness of cancer in the only way that I know how ~ through art.

My complete story, examples of my pre and post stroke art, and my further thoughts on healing can be viewed at:
‘Healing with Art’ ~ http://www.caseyshannon.com/id32.html and
‘Meet the Artist’ ~ http://www.caseyshannon.com/id6.html

Be well,
Casey Shannon
Artist – Instructor – Stroke Survivor