Jan is creating her own version of English: Janglish.
Today she was speaking about the everyday stuff such as the "office" when she meant her room, or the "way" referring to the bathroom, or the "picture" when talking about the air vents.
Not only that, today I asked her in Spanish a few questions and she replied in Spanish! the said: "I can make work-talk in Spanish" I asked her to tell me a few things in French and she did! Then, without any request, she moved the thumb, index and pinky in her right hand. With a big laugh we celebrated her accomplishments.
What do you expect for Jan tomorrow?
-Fede
Jan had a brain hemorhage on February 10,2006. Against all odds, she survived and has gone far on her recovery. Her ordeal has been a source of pain and limitations, but also it has been a source of inspiration and learning for many. This blog is a caregiver's account. We hope one day she will tell her own story with her own words. -FC
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2006
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March
(38)
- Weekend Pass Vol2
- Rehabilitation
- Serenade at D57
- Aphasia
- Ambiguity
- The other side of Sunday
- Weekend day 2
- Back to reality
- The unbearable lightness of love
- Frustration
- The ground rules
- Eloped
- One more thing
- Jan Get Well!
- Take your walker and walk!
- Stillness
- Janglish
- Janglish
- Janglish
- Janglish
- Janglish
- Regaining Consciousness
- Jan delivers a state of the hospital speech
- You are dismissed...
- Jan was wheeling outdoors
- Jan was dancing in the corridor of Wing D5
- Communication Ramps and Repairs
- Iconoclast
- PS
- Sleeping beauty
- What a day
- "Happy Happy Joy Joy!" (*) She eats! She speaks!
- Jan's first words
- Jan on Wheels
- Two glimpses of healing
- Flying
- A note of hope
- Jan is on the floor
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March
(38)
If my heart was a river
If my heart was a river,
it would bear no scars,
it would embrace the rocks,
turn, roll and explode
in a joyful laughter
dissipated in white foam.
If my heart was a river,
it would bear no scars
when the curious child
sent that flat-rounded stone
skipping over the surface,
leaving ever growing rings,
soon to be hidden
in the memory of its flow.
If my heart was a river,
it would bear no scars,
when my love dipped her feet
in its waters to cool her day,
or when she raised her voice
to stop its flow,
or when she mixed
her tears with my waves.
But my heart is not a river,
it bears scars
as if it was wearing
the fingerprints of life.
F. Carrillo
Orest, a good friend of mine put music to the poem. You can listen to it here:
http://odeo.com/episodes/2000824-Heart-Like-a-River-September-27-session-mix
it would bear no scars,
it would embrace the rocks,
turn, roll and explode
in a joyful laughter
dissipated in white foam.
If my heart was a river,
it would bear no scars
when the curious child
sent that flat-rounded stone
skipping over the surface,
leaving ever growing rings,
soon to be hidden
in the memory of its flow.
If my heart was a river,
it would bear no scars,
when my love dipped her feet
in its waters to cool her day,
or when she raised her voice
to stop its flow,
or when she mixed
her tears with my waves.
But my heart is not a river,
it bears scars
as if it was wearing
the fingerprints of life.
F. Carrillo
Orest, a good friend of mine put music to the poem. You can listen to it here:
http://odeo.com/episodes/2000824-Heart-Like-a-River-September-27-session-mix
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