Finding Purpose, Acceptance, and Joy: A Healing Journey

By Peter Leech, a member of St. Marys’ congregation

No two conditions are the same. There are so many things that differentiate mine from other people with similar health challenges, which is why we all deal with things differently. For me, living with chronic illness has taught me a vital lesson: healing and getting better are not the same thing.

In my case, healing is about accepting changes so I can build the best life for me that I can. With current medical knowledge, getting better or finding a cure isn’t an option. I will probably never get better, but I can heal the scars from the life I had and thought I would have.

Healing is not recovery. But I have a choice: do I lie in bed and wait to die, or do I start asking myself, how can I do this? I know the chances are I am going to get worse and not better, so I won't set myself up for failure. I will try to build the best life I can with the body I have. To me, healing means learning to adapt, and learning not to apologise for my mobility aids, for being slower than others, or for getting fatigued more often. It all comes down to one word: acceptance. I need people to accept me for who I have become. This is me and, like Marmite, you either love me or hate me!

Choosing Positivity through Surgery and Recovery

Positive thinking is great, but it does not cure my chronic illness—if it did, I would not have just undergone my 15th neurosurgery!

Periodically, I need to have batteries changed for my Occipital Nerve Stimulators and Deep Brain Stimulators. On July 30th, I had surgery at The National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery to replace my Occipital Nerve Stimulators. Because it was from a new manufacturer, everything had to be replaced, and the battery was relocated from my stomach to my chest. It was extremely painful, and because of my previous strokes, I had to stay in intensive care for 24 hours. The surgery went well, and I am so grateful to be here with you all today.

People often ask me how I stay so positive. First, it is my faith. Secondly, over the years, I’ve realised it is a lot easier to smile and be happy than to be unhappy. I believe it takes fewer muscles to smile than to frown, and I honestly don’t have enough spare energy to waste being negative!

Overcoming Daily Hurdles with Humour

My recent strokes have added further hurdles. Just over a year ago, I moved to a much more accessible bungalow that accommodates my wheelchairs, and later this year, I will be the proud owner of a drive-from wheelchair car. I get lost very easily—a simple wrong turn and I could be anywhere—but Satnav and Google Maps give me freedom whether I'm walking (or wheeling) or driving.

After my first stroke, I was diagnosed with Prosopagnosia (Face Blindness), which means I don’t recognise people or places because I can’t process facial features. To save the embarrassment of not remembering a name or face, I often rely on a trusty "Hello mate!" or "Hello there!"

This has led to some wonderful moments. I spent almost a year calling our fellow parishioner Barry "Barney"—but he completely understood and started calling me "Fred" (as in Flintstone)! I now cheat a little: I have built a vast mental database of people’s voices that I match to a name. It’s not 100% accurate, but I usually get by.

I also live with Aphasia, a speech and language condition. Through sheer pig-headedness, I’ve managed to deal with it well, though forgetting words and slurring can be very frustrating. Sometimes I think my speech is worse than it is because I’m concentrating so hard just to put a sentence together.

With limited use of my hands, legs that can barely stand, and an inability to sign my name, simple tasks require extra creativity. When I had to sign the consent form for my recent surgery, I offered to use a stamp—but you can't stamp a digital tablet! In the end, one of my pseudonyms on the form was signed by an anaesthetist. I keep trying, because doing things differently is now just my way.

Guided by Faith

Ultimately, there is no medical cure for what I have. But God has given me the guidance I need to navigate this journey. I believe in God's power and believe He has a plan for each of us.

My faith helps me daily. It gives me a reason to get out of bed every morning and live a purposeful life. When people ask how I cope, I tell them: "It's all down to God." I am only human, and I do have moments of self-pity, but those moments are short-lived. I wholeheartedly believe that God is always looking over me, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

God has given me a reason to appreciate everything around me. I smile a lot more since finding faith, and I have truly accepted myself for who I am.

Thank you all for your continued friendship, support and prayers as we navigate this journey together.