Dunham Family and My Stroke Story!

St. Al's is a local hospital in Boise.  When my first stroke happened, we went to St. Al's. I was honored that St. Al's used my stroke story for the annual Festival of Trees, a huge fundraiser the raises money for specifics projects. This year, the focus was their ER services. Here is the four minute video:   Mark Dunham at the Festival of Trees Even now, this video is surreal. It seems like this is another person's story.  The goal for me to agree to relive this bad experience was to help other people. I know that other stroke survivors often feel that the have no hope. My hope that this video will help people about recovery and possibilities.  Never give up. 

“Sybil” is a 1973 book by Flora Rheta Schreiber about the treatment of Sybil Dorsett (a pseudonym for Shirley Ardell Mason) for dissociative identity disorder (then referred to as multiple personality disorder ) by her psychoanalyst, Cornelia B. Wilbur. The therapist called the woman " Sybil" to protect her privacy.     Originally in treatment for social anxiety and memory loss, after extended therapy Sybil manifests sixteen personalities.  I loved the book when I read it in high school, and I loved the miniseries. I never really thought about my brain. You take your brain for granted. It is a bunch of complex cells, but I  didn't  comprehend how much a brain really “does.” In school, I had to study the brain.  I took psychology and biology. But the concept of a brain was so clinical. The structure of the brain was a just a topic to study. When my strokes happened, it galvanized my thought process. This is my brain. Something is wrong with my brain. Wha

Today, my son and I saw a movie, "Thor." My son and I have seen so many movies on the big screen since my stroke. This is our tradition. This is my recovery. I love my son. Watching him grow his heaven to me.  Sometimes I just watch him sleep. I watch The curve of his face. I watch the color of his brown hair that reminds me of my father's hair. The best times for me, is on a Saturday morning. Though he's almost 9, he snuggles up to me. I stroke his hair. I look at his eyes seeing the same green as my wife's eyes. He has the same eyebrows as I had when I was a kid. He has subtle dimples. He has dark eyelashes that are long.  Funny? He's incredibly funny. He is irreverent even though he doesn't know what that means.  He dances around the house  in the morning and when he's getting ready for bed. I want him to keep dancing through his life. I watch him so closely because I almost lost him because of my strokes. I concentrate so m

"Rehabilitation Easy Street" is on the third floor at St. Alphonsus Hospital in Boise, Idaho.   “Easy” is a misnomer for me. Nothing was easy about my rehabilitation in the early days. My room was on the fourth floor, and my therapist told me that we had to walk down one floor to “Easy Street” on the stairs. I had to use a harness so I wouldn't fall. On “Easy Street,” there is a general store sponsored by the Albertson's Corporation.  In reality, there are shelves and plastic products. My therapist told me that I should look at item on the store shelves. What is toothbrush? Deodorant? Envelops? Fruit? I was dumfounded. I had no idea what those things were. Of course I had no concept of an alphabet.  I could not remember my name let alone saying obscure terms like deodorant My therapist told me that I needed to concentrate on the plastic fruit.  I would look at an apple. I had no clue what “apple” was. The therapist said,  “what is the color of an app

Pink Floyd is one of my favorite bands.   When I was in college, I used to study and listen to Pink Floyd. One of my favorite songs was “Brain Damage.” “The lunatic is in the hall. The lunatics are in my hall. And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too I'll see you on the dark side of the moon. That song resonated even before I had two strokes. Now, “Brain Damage” is very ironic considering I do have brain damage!  The lyrics are fitting because my head exploded with dark forebodings that scared me so much because I thought I would die. It is hard for me to realize that I do have brain damage.  In some obscure way, even now, I do not think this is me. But it is.  About 20% of my brain is gone. I am so grateful that I have the tenacity to try anything that will help me recover. In the hospital, a therapist told me that I would never drive again because of double vision and limited vision on my right side.  A doctor told me that I could never work a