Changing stroke rehab and research worldwide now.Time is Brain! trillions and trillions of neurons that DIE each day because there are NO effective hyperacute therapies besides tPA(only 12% effective). I have 523 posts on hyperacute therapy, enough for researchers to spend decades proving them out. These are my personal ideas and blog on stroke rehabilitation and stroke research. Do not attempt any of these without checking with your medical provider. Unless you join me in agitating, when you need these therapies they won't be there.

What this blog is for:

My blog is not to help survivors recover, it is to have the 10 million yearly stroke survivors light fires underneath their doctors, stroke hospitals and stroke researchers to get stroke solved. 100% recovery. The stroke medical world is completely failing at that goal, they don't even have it as a goal. Shortly after getting out of the hospital and getting NO information on the process or protocols of stroke rehabilitation and recovery I started searching on the internet and found that no other survivor received useful information. This is an attempt to cover all stroke rehabilitation information that should be readily available to survivors so they can talk with informed knowledge to their medical staff. It lays out what needs to be done to get stroke survivors closer to 100% recovery. It's quite disgusting that this information is not available from every stroke association and doctors group.

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

On Breaking Bad News

Everyone of your doctors should be an expert at this. They have to tell you that they know absolutely nothing about getting you 100% recovered. In fact, YOU have to figure out your recovery yourself. No one in the world knows anything concrete about stroke recovery.
https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jama/article-abstract/2687358?resultClick=1
Walter Klyce, BA1
Author Affiliations
JAMA. 2018;320(2):135-136. doi:10.1001/jama.2018.8544




“Call home, Dog died.”
The summer after ninth grade, I spent eight weeks on an idyllic lake in the pinky of Michigan, at a camp for artsy teenagers. When I look back on this time, it stands out as a sort of golden summer, full of singing, sunshine, and the best parts of adolescence. I think of myself during those weeks as being close to my best self, and I enjoyed camp so much that I even went back for a second dose the following year. Still, there is one bit of particular sourness that lingers from that first summer; one that, if not for its absurdity, would be heartbreaking.
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