Friday, April 22, 2011

Sequencing, Part 3

A few days ago, my son was talking to me while I was preparing my breakfast. I got out the Cheerios box, put cereal into my bowl, and got the milk out from the refrigerator. Then I poured some milk into a bowl.

OK, I poured the milk into the wrong bowl.

But sometimes I wonder: do I do these things because I have a brain injury, or because I'm a mom of young kids?

Monday, April 18, 2011

Before and After

My son is helping me to put photos in an album.

"I wish you didn't have a stroke," he says, looking at the photos of our family from a few years ago. "You were more fun then," he says, with a hint of sadness.

"I wish I didn't have the stroke, either," I say.

But I try to tell him that all these experiences becomes part of who we are. When I was growing up, I tell him, there were things that were very hard for me at the time. Maybe some good things came out of those experiences.


Sunday, April 10, 2011

What Comes Around...

One of the frustrating about aphasia for me is the lost opportunities to make snide remarks. I'm too slow.

A few days ago, Neal and I were driving, and the Diane Rehm Show came on NPR.

I couldn't say it, but I wanted to say: a southern drawl is nice, but she sounds like a southerner on a big dose of tranquilizers. Or: isn't time for her to retire?

Neal was about to turn off the car. I was still trying to formulate a witty remark.

"I wonder if she had a stroke," Neal said.

I hadn't connected the dots. Her voice sounds a little like... mine, I realized. But without my grammatical mistakes.

That evening we went online to find out about her. Diane Rehm has Focal Dysphonia, a neurological disorder.

One of the good things about aphasia is that sometimes I'm too slow to make stupid remarks.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Invisible Line

I'm still getting used to my healing body. Or rather, my brain.

There are things that still surprise me, especially with my sensation.

If I trace a line with my finger across my waist--or anywhere on my body--from left to right, my sensation is suddenly muted when I cross over the midpoint. For some reason, I always think that my sensation should fade slowly, the further I go to my right side. But instead it's like a switch with two settings. My left side is on the brighter setting. After I cross over my middle, the light is dimmer.

Slowly, over the course of months, maybe years, the light is getting brighter. But I don't know if the two lights will ever be equal.