I called Don, and Linda didn't want him to stay on the phone long (I had him ask her). She kept calling the nurse (she can move her foot and use the call light now!) so he figured out that she wasn't kidding after the third or fourth time of thinking she was just doing it because she can do it (he kept cancelling the call). She is smiling now-- it hasn't even been three weeks! Don is confident she will walk again, and so is Linda. The main concern right now seems to be talking.
He says she cries during speech therapy every time, which exhausts her. I said, "Does she do it because that is when she is best at vocalizing?"
He asked her, and she said yes! He seemed really surprised by that, but he often says he needs a woman in the room...
Most stroke victims are still in the hosptial at this point and she's been in therapy for a week. All of the doctors and therapists are thrilled. The social worker came by to kind of catalogue their assessment of Linda today, and said it's normal that her arms are lagging behind-- the legs come back first.
Locked In. Locked In, my ---! Blankety blank, that's so irresponsible.
Don called this stroke victim he read about on the web Kate, I think, she lives in St. Louis. She was really happy he called. She seems very positive about Linda. Apparently, she was worse off than Linda was-- I've mentioned this before. This is the story Mary was reading to me in the hospital about twelve days ago (has it really been less than three weeks?). She has regained function (no doubt through intensive rehabilitation) of everything except her left arm. They can't figure it out. She says she gets depressed at times about this. At first that struck me as a little odd-- wouldn't you rejoice at how much you had gained back? But how selfish of me, how privileged-- wouldn't I be depressed by that too, having once had control over it? I hope this is teaching me more empathy, more sensitivity, but I told Don the other night, "I try not to walk in Linda's shoes too often."
Today I was trying to figure out why this has hit me so hard: I went through an impossibly horrible divorce, and taught all my classes and finished grad school on time. My child was hit by a car, and it didn't affect my work performance (though, of course I took some time off). I was hospitalized, but it didn't affect my work performance.
For some reason, what has happened to Linda just left me stunned, almost comatose for two weeks. I know, I know, people think that's insane, there is a whole blog, there was a fundraiser, there were visits to Columbia, phone calls. But I view the last few weeks as a fog, like I've been walking in my sleep, operating on automatic pilot.
The best thing I can think of is that when hardships were mine, when I owned them, I could handle them because I *had* to. But when this happened to Linda, I couldn't own it, I couldn't take it away, and I couldn't make it better. And the one person I would like to be talking about this with can't talk back to me right now. I can't ask her how she is dealing with this, and she can't tell me. Linda has to go through this. And while I would not want this, if I were going through it, at least I would know that I could bear it because what choice would I have?
He says she cries during speech therapy every time, which exhausts her. I said, "Does she do it because that is when she is best at vocalizing?"
He asked her, and she said yes! He seemed really surprised by that, but he often says he needs a woman in the room...
Most stroke victims are still in the hosptial at this point and she's been in therapy for a week. All of the doctors and therapists are thrilled. The social worker came by to kind of catalogue their assessment of Linda today, and said it's normal that her arms are lagging behind-- the legs come back first.
Locked In. Locked In, my ---! Blankety blank, that's so irresponsible.
Don called this stroke victim he read about on the web Kate, I think, she lives in St. Louis. She was really happy he called. She seems very positive about Linda. Apparently, she was worse off than Linda was-- I've mentioned this before. This is the story Mary was reading to me in the hospital about twelve days ago (has it really been less than three weeks?). She has regained function (no doubt through intensive rehabilitation) of everything except her left arm. They can't figure it out. She says she gets depressed at times about this. At first that struck me as a little odd-- wouldn't you rejoice at how much you had gained back? But how selfish of me, how privileged-- wouldn't I be depressed by that too, having once had control over it? I hope this is teaching me more empathy, more sensitivity, but I told Don the other night, "I try not to walk in Linda's shoes too often."
Today I was trying to figure out why this has hit me so hard: I went through an impossibly horrible divorce, and taught all my classes and finished grad school on time. My child was hit by a car, and it didn't affect my work performance (though, of course I took some time off). I was hospitalized, but it didn't affect my work performance.
For some reason, what has happened to Linda just left me stunned, almost comatose for two weeks. I know, I know, people think that's insane, there is a whole blog, there was a fundraiser, there were visits to Columbia, phone calls. But I view the last few weeks as a fog, like I've been walking in my sleep, operating on automatic pilot.
The best thing I can think of is that when hardships were mine, when I owned them, I could handle them because I *had* to. But when this happened to Linda, I couldn't own it, I couldn't take it away, and I couldn't make it better. And the one person I would like to be talking about this with can't talk back to me right now. I can't ask her how she is dealing with this, and she can't tell me. Linda has to go through this. And while I would not want this, if I were going through it, at least I would know that I could bear it because what choice would I have?
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