Dear Jan:
As the first anniversary of the "A" day came and went, we are finding out that time is our greatest challenge to face.
Time has this quality of softening the sharpness of pain to a point where it is almost a soft a sand, of mitigating the urgency that novelty has. Do you remember? the first few weeks after the "a" day, friends and relatives were really eager to see you, to know about you, to do something to express their feeling for you. As time went by, and knowing that you had survived, the visits dwindled, the phone became silent, the mailbox filled up with dust and snow. This happens everywhere to everyone. Time and the heavy demands we put on our limited days slowly normalizes your on-going battle with rehab look more like everyone else's battle to survive. Time has made your presence among us "normal" again.
The upside of this is that you are welcomed in almost every situation. Everyone makes concesions to accomodate the extra time it takes you to do things, to speak, or even just to move. Everyone suspend judgements when your behavior is a bit odd because of the communication disability or the fatige. All seem glad of receiving an opportunity to extend grace to you, to be considerate and sensitive. It always makes one feel good to be good to someone else.
The downside is that been seen as one more in the bunch, you do not receive any special attention, or the extra visit or the call that at the beginning used to be so important to the giver as well as to you, the receiver. Without the emergency factor, time just levels everyone in the appointment books.
And so, here you are, not being able yet to remember who has called you or wrote to you. Your memory has to be refreshed everyday to make calls and when you make them, you cut them short because that is all you can handle. Your emails are minimalist, because that is all you can write. And as time goes by, you try to fill your days by volunteering at the church office, at the rehab hospital in the area, by meeting on a regular basis with one of your most faithful friends, by going house hunting with me, by taking long walks in the neighbourhood by yourself. Your friends may have gotten busy, but you are certainly not waiting for them.
The Aneurysm slowed you down, but could not stop you. The cold cannot stop you, the distances cannot stop you, in spite of time, you go on making progress and expecting to get everything back... you were promised this much...
Everytime you see a friend you react as if it was the first time you saw them. So much joy. Seeing time in a slower motion as you do now, may be a blessing because you get to enjoy more the time spent with those you love. Really, time has just seasoned your friendships. So, in spite of the few and far between encounters you have with them, time in you hands is transformed into a glue that keeps you close to them.
I am glad for your optimism and your skill for keeping friends.
FC
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Friday, March 02, 2007
Does love have a limit?
Dear Jan:
While I am re-starting the blogging after a month, honestly, I enjoyed the vacation. I didn't know if I wanted to continue blogging, partly because I have no idea who reads this blog anymore and partly because I don't know how to convey the emotional and mental exhaustion I am feeling these days. But then this morning I reminded myself that one of the main reasons of this blog was the fact that it was a great help for me to write things out, this way I clarified thoughts and feelings and I had a chance to see facts in perspective. So, here I go again.
There's been huge progress in every area touched by the aneurysm. You move better your whole right side, your energy last a bit longer and your speech improves in spurts. Everyone who has seen you comments on these improvements. At the same time, you also take some steps back now and then.
This blog should stop right here. Everyone would be happy to know that you are going forward.
However, you say repeatedly that I have to say the truth. And the truth is that life is more complicated than it looks.
Some days everything seems clear and I can see that your convalescence is not permanent, that one day you will just come back to the functioning level you had before the aneurysm. You will be the bright woman with a clear speech and a sharp mind that captured my attention. You yourself repeat this vision when the doctors state that what you got back at the one year mark is as good as it gets. I remember how irate you were after the meeting with your neurosurgeon; you said, "Obviously, he doesn't know me". To be sure, in the last six months, you have made progress against all prognoses mostly based on your character. Tough as nails, you have refused to let anyone "box in" your hopes and continue the uphill battle to regain speech, reading, writing and movement functions. On days like these I just love you extravagantly.
Other days are very dark, full of pain and tears, of moaning when there are no more words to express the isolation, depression and sadness that Aphasia forces upon you. I say something and you hear something else, you say something and a minute later you change what you said, but can't remember the change and feel harassed if I point out the change to you. I feel like we are speaking to each other in languages we don't mutually understand. On days like this I wonder where reality ends and madness starts. On days like this, I feel like the most insensitive man on the planet, a little ogre that is more interested in defending himself than in listening carefully to you and giving you the time you need. In days like this you just put on your snowsuit and walk out. It is in days like this when you say that you would like to die and end all this pain, or just go home to your sister’s, your brother’s, your dad’s or your mom’s. And then, there is the realization that this is your home! That this suffering is part of our life for now! That any happines we may have in the future will only be complete because of what we are going through now.
So, I ask myself: is there a limit to how much you can love? Is there a limit to how far I will love? Does love have a limit or an end?
I think the apostle Paul already answer this question:
The Way of Love (1Corinthians 13)
If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be cancelled.
-Fede
While I am re-starting the blogging after a month, honestly, I enjoyed the vacation. I didn't know if I wanted to continue blogging, partly because I have no idea who reads this blog anymore and partly because I don't know how to convey the emotional and mental exhaustion I am feeling these days. But then this morning I reminded myself that one of the main reasons of this blog was the fact that it was a great help for me to write things out, this way I clarified thoughts and feelings and I had a chance to see facts in perspective. So, here I go again.
There's been huge progress in every area touched by the aneurysm. You move better your whole right side, your energy last a bit longer and your speech improves in spurts. Everyone who has seen you comments on these improvements. At the same time, you also take some steps back now and then.
This blog should stop right here. Everyone would be happy to know that you are going forward.
However, you say repeatedly that I have to say the truth. And the truth is that life is more complicated than it looks.
Some days everything seems clear and I can see that your convalescence is not permanent, that one day you will just come back to the functioning level you had before the aneurysm. You will be the bright woman with a clear speech and a sharp mind that captured my attention. You yourself repeat this vision when the doctors state that what you got back at the one year mark is as good as it gets. I remember how irate you were after the meeting with your neurosurgeon; you said, "Obviously, he doesn't know me". To be sure, in the last six months, you have made progress against all prognoses mostly based on your character. Tough as nails, you have refused to let anyone "box in" your hopes and continue the uphill battle to regain speech, reading, writing and movement functions. On days like these I just love you extravagantly.
Other days are very dark, full of pain and tears, of moaning when there are no more words to express the isolation, depression and sadness that Aphasia forces upon you. I say something and you hear something else, you say something and a minute later you change what you said, but can't remember the change and feel harassed if I point out the change to you. I feel like we are speaking to each other in languages we don't mutually understand. On days like this I wonder where reality ends and madness starts. On days like this, I feel like the most insensitive man on the planet, a little ogre that is more interested in defending himself than in listening carefully to you and giving you the time you need. In days like this you just put on your snowsuit and walk out. It is in days like this when you say that you would like to die and end all this pain, or just go home to your sister’s, your brother’s, your dad’s or your mom’s. And then, there is the realization that this is your home! That this suffering is part of our life for now! That any happines we may have in the future will only be complete because of what we are going through now.
So, I ask myself: is there a limit to how much you can love? Is there a limit to how far I will love? Does love have a limit or an end?
I think the apostle Paul already answer this question:
The Way of Love (1Corinthians 13)
If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be cancelled.
-Fede
Monday, February 05, 2007
360
Dear Jan:
Professional coaches say that a sure way of knowing how we are doing is by carrying out a 360 degree audit. This means, you have to evaluate your performance through your own eyes, the eyes of your supervisors, the eyes of those you supervise, and the eyes of those you serve. This is a view of yourself in a 360 degree perspective. I have to say that few come out of these exercises with flying colours.
You have been coming back to life in the past 360 days. And you are pssing with flying colours most expectations and prognosis.
Professional coaches say that a sure way of knowing how we are doing is by carrying out a 360 degree audit. This means, you have to evaluate your performance through your own eyes, the eyes of your supervisors, the eyes of those you supervise, and the eyes of those you serve. This is a view of yourself in a 360 degree perspective. I have to say that few come out of these exercises with flying colours.
You have been coming back to life in the past 360 days. And you are pssing with flying colours most expectations and prognosis.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Drop a line to Jan!
Happy New Year to each and everyone!
Would you drop a line to Jan next time you read this blog?
It will tell Jan that although she is not seen around often, you still think of her a lot.
If you wish to send her an email use her new address:
janitawalton@gmail.com
FC
PS: Ah! don't foget to write your email or phone number -if they have changed- for her new address book.
Would you drop a line to Jan next time you read this blog?
It will tell Jan that although she is not seen around often, you still think of her a lot.
If you wish to send her an email use her new address:
janitawalton@gmail.com
FC
PS: Ah! don't foget to write your email or phone number -if they have changed- for her new address book.
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