Day 187
Dear Jan,
The past two days have been a bio-chemical re-adjustment for you. The medication has way to slow you down so much in your physical activity and in your speech that is hard to get to do even half of what you were doing last week. It is unfair that after functioning fine for three weeks, now you have to take these steps back.
I hope your body can get used soon to the medication and that you regain the momentum you had in your rehablitation until last week.
===
I wonder if someone among our friends knows how to organize a fundraiser. We need help to organize a fundraiser for therapies not covered by OHIP at the end of September.
Those who read these blog and can help, please contact us.
-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
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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