It’s not a miracle cure, but it helps take the edge off while everything settles down.
Some days call for determination.
Other days call for patience.
Today required both.
The lawn is greener than it was yesterday.
Missy is still convinced she’s the Neighborhood Welcome Committee.
And I’m still moving forward, one careful step at a time.
Gravity still sucks.
But so far, I haven’t let it win.
I want to enjoy watching the Colorado Avalanche dominate the ice. I really do.
But there’s just one problem…
Sometimes I can’t track the puck to save my life.
And yeah, I’ve asked myself the question:
Is it the game—or is it me?
After a traumatic brain injury and a stroke, things don’t always process the same. Hockey is fast. Like blink-and-it’s-gone fast. That tiny black puck? It might as well be playing hide-and-seek on expert mode.
But here’s the deal—I’m not tapping out.
Instead, I’ve had to change how I watch the game.
I stopped trying to follow the puck like a sniper and started watching the players instead. The movement. The flow. Where the play is building before it actually happens. Turns out, hockey makes a lot more sense when you zoom out mentally.
And honestly? It’s made the game better.
I still lose the puck sometimes. Happens.
But I catch the big moments—the passes, the setups, and yeah… when the Avs bury it in the net.
That’s what matters.
There’s something bigger here too.
Sometimes your brain throws a wrench into how you used to do things. Doesn’t mean you’re done—it just means you adapt.
So if the puck disappears on you now and then, welcome to the club.
We’re still watching. Still cheering. Still in it.
And when the Avalanche score?
You don’t need perfect vision to feel that.
Let’s go Avs.
It’s My Life 