On Tuesday of this week, I finished another major milestone in my progress; I graduated with my certification of one unit of Clinical Pastoral Education. The class consisted of 17 weeks of instruction (8 classroom hours every Monday), 24 hours a month of on-call chaplaincy at Methodist Medical center (8pm-8am one day during the week, and 8am to 8pm on one weekend) each month, January - May, and then 300 total hours of clinical work (fulfilled by my work at St. Croix Hospice). For those of you keeping score, that's 140 hours of classroom work (we met 4 times for a 1 hour individual instruction), 120 hours of on-call work at Methodist Medical center (and, by the way, when we were on call we had to be on location, meaning we had to be at Methodist for the entire 12 hour shift), and 300 hours of supervised clinical visitation. I have already been endorsed by the Converge World Wide for chaplaincy; this is one more requirement down. May is stroke awareness month; I am now 7 1/2 years post stroke, I love what I do through Hospice and I am so thankful to God for what He has allowed me to do, and for all the people who have been praying for me through this process. For those of you that might be reading this blog who have recently had strokes, or know someone who has recently had a stroke, please, never give up. Your stroke may have taken many things from you, but don't let it take your determination! Drs told my wife I would never walk, talk or feed myself again, and here I am working as a chaplain for St. Croix Hospice; Drs know a lot, but they don't know everything! God is in control, let Him take over.
Today is December 8, 2023 - 15 years since my stroke. Time is deceiving; on one hand, it moves so fast that we can barely imagine that the person we were 15 years ago, and the person we are today are the same person. I have started this post 4 different times in the last few weeks; it is just so hard to put into words what I'm feeling. I feel really good for a dead guy (that is my standard greeting; several doctors have told me that I should had died at least 11 years ago.) But, it is so hard for me to talk about feeling good, considering the path we have been on for the last 2 months. My son was the one who helped me to the car when I could not walk; my son was the one who watched the girls when Laura had to take me to the hospital. My son was the one who bought me the little Christmas tree for my ICU room after my surgery, and it was my son that so often told his mom how worried he was about me when I would show signs of weakness. My son has been such a big part of my recovery,...
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