So, I apologize for the fact that the blog, of late, has sucked. No, no, it really has lacked my typical enthusiasm and investment. And I can pinpoint where this fell off, because I stopped blogging every day. And I recognize that as a symptom, not a causative factor. But even when I go back and read what I have written, it's not my usual level of attention to detail. For example, I've been misusing May and June's names for a month - May is a year ahead of me and older than June, which is why she's May. June is my classmate that just got married. You'll notice that I just married off May, which I'm suspecting neither May's wife nor June's husband would support. And Olga has had like seven different names.
The truth of it is, there's something not right with me. And to be perfectly frank, I'm not sure what it is.
Jen suggested this morning that I'm burned out. Which, yes, definitely a part of it. I don't know how I could be running a family care home and being a chief-ish resident and functioning as a very busy first year child fellow and trying to maintain some sort of social connections and working twice a week on a very difficult insight-oriented journey without burning the candle at both ends. I'm very overwhelmed by my life right now, which makes sense, because any single component could easily by itself be overwhelming. The family care home is sucking up a lot of my time and energy, but it ways that are sometimes reasonable. I don't know how to say "here's how you can help me" without it coming out as "stop sucking the life out of me." And sometimes it just has to be what it is, like Thursday, when I was cranky and restless and all I wanted to do was go home and sit in the quiet and make frozen pizza and watch NCIS and then go to bed at 8:00. But I got to my parents' and my dad was bleeding internally. Very reasonably, we changed direction and went to the ER. All the while, though, I felt like I was sitting there looking at the end of my rope.
But I used to be able to handle that a lot better. It would not have bothered me three months ago to anywhere near the extent that it did that my minimal plans for the evening were voided. So, yes, while I feel like there's a very significant chunk of caregiver fatigue in the mix here...that ain't all it is.
There's also probably a seasonal component - I'm VERY light responsive (some would say seasonal affective), and you might have noticed, the light is dying. I have a hard time getting up in the morning. I have a hard time staying up at night. I always, always get a little more depressed when the season changes, but it's much earlier this year. Typically that doesn't kick in until November or December. So something is sensitizing me this year.
I know there's some biological stuff going on as well. My thyroid hormone replacement is still clearly inadequate. My new - if tiny - medicine to address the stress-related borderline high blood pressure I've been having might be contributing. And there may be something more systemic going on, if my stiff, sore joints are any indication. Plus, I still haven't had that sleep study I need. Maybe I have sleep apnea, who knows, but more likely I think I have some sort of REM sleep disorder. I have these ridiculously detailed, highly affectively charged, absolutely EPIC dreams that go on and on and on and on, for literally hours. I have massive sleep inertia when I wake up in the middle of one of those epic voyages (seriously, Homer had nothing on me, and it definitely interferes with my quality of sleep. So I probably need to get that looked at.
In a psychoanalytic sense, it also occurs to me that I've doubly lost my holding environment. I had one here, in NC, away from my childhood and my old life and the painful things about that, a place where I could grow and individuate that authentic self, a distance at which I could appreciate the things I loved about my family and my life back home. But at the same time, I had a safe place to go back to if there was too much trouble here. Like, when the bottom fell out of my life at the Emerald Palace, what did I do? I ran home. Now, I have neither of those places.
But then there's this deeply existential piece. I feel like I've lost my sense of my identity over the last few months. Who am I? What am I doing? What am I becoming? All of those questions suddenly have tenuous and very nebulous answers all of a sudden. My self-concept has always been ruled by outside influences, and I think in becoming more aware of that, of trying to locate that which is more authentic, I've become aware of just how diaphanous is that by which I've defined myself. Winnicott talked about the false self, the ideal persona created which we present to the outside world. Trouble is, the harder I look, the less I feel confident that I can locate an authentic self-object in my internal world. It's somewhere in my shadow, which I cannot access readily, if at all right now. That's the point of therapy, indeed, but that doesn't make me feel any more whole right now. And I think the bigger issue is, there's a lot of affect that's been split off for a long time which is now trying to reintegrate itself as my self-awareness journey proceeds. And there are reasons it left - namely, like any split off affect, it was too painful to tolerate at the time. Now, though, I'm suddenly wading in it until my fingers are pruney. Which sucks.
(Psychobabble, psychobabble, psychobabble. Sorry, it's what I do.)
The point of all of this, I think, is that it just is. There's no quick fix, no magic pill, no right answer. So I just keep going along, keep my head in the game, keep telling the story as it needs to be told (I've been reading a lot about narrative psychiatry lately). I have to identify what my needs really are before I can meet them. And I can hope that my friends' patience with me is a model and reminder of how I need to be patient and kind with myself.
Uncomfortable though it may be, this too will pass. But the only way out is through.
Showing posts with label Blog 365. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blog 365. Show all posts
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Okay, so suddenly I suck at this.
Cable guy is coming tomorrow. Will have home internet again. And can get back into my blogging routine (I think the disruption of my previous routine has actually been the problem, moreso than the lack of access, because I have the Verizon wi-fi).
Moved my bed into the new apartment tonight. Mags and I will be sleeping here until the rest of the stuff comes on Friday. And, well, after that, too, but with stuff.
The new place is great. I'll try to post some pictures one of these days. But in the meantime? I'm going to bed.
Moved my bed into the new apartment tonight. Mags and I will be sleeping here until the rest of the stuff comes on Friday. And, well, after that, too, but with stuff.
The new place is great. I'll try to post some pictures one of these days. But in the meantime? I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Wordless Tuesday
I've been thinking a lot today about how people communicate. Okay, fine - I think about it a lot, in general.
So much of what we say to each other, we don't say at all. It's remarkable, really. There's a huge amount of nonverbal cues that go back and forth in even the smallest, most casual exchange. There are these things called meta-messages, right? They're about context. They're what we're really saying, or what we're hearing others say. Note, though - the meta-message that's sent and the one that's received are often not the same. And then you factor in pheromonal signals and other subconscious cues, and it's amazing that we ever communicate anything correctly.
I was thinking about this today after a conversation this morning with a friend of mine. He reminds me a lot of an ex I have, who always seemed to speak in metaphor. He'd tell me stories about his house, his work, his family, which would always be code for how he was feeling and what he was thinking about me, himself, us. It was a lot of effort for me to decipher that, but validating and satisfying when I did, which is part of what kept me there. I was always on my toes with him, which, let's face it, wasn't always where I wanted or needed to be.
My friend at work is much the same way (which is, let's face it, why our friendship is a little complicated). The difference, here, though, is that I've evolved a bit, and I spend less time worrying about if I got it right with him and more time looking at what's going on. I spend more time thinking about what I'm telling him. I pay a lot of attention to this stuff, and I still think I only have a minute inkling of what's actually transpiring.
It really is a miracle we ever communicate anything, ever.
So much of what we say to each other, we don't say at all. It's remarkable, really. There's a huge amount of nonverbal cues that go back and forth in even the smallest, most casual exchange. There are these things called meta-messages, right? They're about context. They're what we're really saying, or what we're hearing others say. Note, though - the meta-message that's sent and the one that's received are often not the same. And then you factor in pheromonal signals and other subconscious cues, and it's amazing that we ever communicate anything correctly.
I was thinking about this today after a conversation this morning with a friend of mine. He reminds me a lot of an ex I have, who always seemed to speak in metaphor. He'd tell me stories about his house, his work, his family, which would always be code for how he was feeling and what he was thinking about me, himself, us. It was a lot of effort for me to decipher that, but validating and satisfying when I did, which is part of what kept me there. I was always on my toes with him, which, let's face it, wasn't always where I wanted or needed to be.
My friend at work is much the same way (which is, let's face it, why our friendship is a little complicated). The difference, here, though, is that I've evolved a bit, and I spend less time worrying about if I got it right with him and more time looking at what's going on. I spend more time thinking about what I'm telling him. I pay a lot of attention to this stuff, and I still think I only have a minute inkling of what's actually transpiring.
It really is a miracle we ever communicate anything, ever.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Happy Mother's Day
So it's Mother's Day.
This is a day my own mother has traditionally hated. I'm not sure I've ever figured out quite why, exactly, she dislikes it so much - I get explanations ranging from "it's a stupid Hallmark holiday" to it making her miss her own mother too much. But, since this year I'm grateful that my mother is even alive after this whole fiasco, so we celebrated it by spending most of the day together.
It's been a rough weekend. My dad's hopefully getting out of the hospital tomorrow. But the weekend (or, you know, past two months) has been kind of crazy, so I took a couple of hours this morning and went to Starbucks. I got caught up on my discharge summaries (let's not talk about my clinic notes) just in time to go back on service tomorrow, and met Matt for coffee and good conversation. I felt a little better after that. My mom and I went to the Mothers' Day brunch here at Shady Pines, which was absolutely delicious. My mom doesn't talk much during meals these days, so it was a lot of chewing in silence, but it was still nice to be in the thick of things. We then got in the car (which she's getting better at) and drove around looking at houses in the neighborhood, and found a lot lot lot of great options for me to talk about with the realtor. We came home, I fell asleep for a minute and then went back out to Target, came home, made dinner, installed the transfer bench in the shower, and then my mom and I watched Betty White on last night's SNL (my mom's commentary? "That was weird." I, however, loved it). And then we got my mom showered, which was a 45 minute ordeal. And sent me off on a whole new spiral succumbing to the gravity of this whole situation.
Matt and I talked a little this morning about the cultural differences between his WASPy self and my Greekness. He was like, "I'd probably be more hands-off about the whole thing, but my parents are also younger and I have a high-functioning sister." Right, I said, and you're a son. I'm an only child, and a daughter, and in my culture, that means something entirely different. And sometimes that difference is wonderful, meaningful, amazing. Sometimes that something is a jagged little pill.
There have been other aspects of this weekend weighing heavily on me, but that's another post for another day. Meanwhile, I have a 7am therapy patient tomorrow. I'd better get to sleep...
This is a day my own mother has traditionally hated. I'm not sure I've ever figured out quite why, exactly, she dislikes it so much - I get explanations ranging from "it's a stupid Hallmark holiday" to it making her miss her own mother too much. But, since this year I'm grateful that my mother is even alive after this whole fiasco, so we celebrated it by spending most of the day together.
It's been a rough weekend. My dad's hopefully getting out of the hospital tomorrow. But the weekend (or, you know, past two months) has been kind of crazy, so I took a couple of hours this morning and went to Starbucks. I got caught up on my discharge summaries (let's not talk about my clinic notes) just in time to go back on service tomorrow, and met Matt for coffee and good conversation. I felt a little better after that. My mom and I went to the Mothers' Day brunch here at Shady Pines, which was absolutely delicious. My mom doesn't talk much during meals these days, so it was a lot of chewing in silence, but it was still nice to be in the thick of things. We then got in the car (which she's getting better at) and drove around looking at houses in the neighborhood, and found a lot lot lot of great options for me to talk about with the realtor. We came home, I fell asleep for a minute and then went back out to Target, came home, made dinner, installed the transfer bench in the shower, and then my mom and I watched Betty White on last night's SNL (my mom's commentary? "That was weird." I, however, loved it). And then we got my mom showered, which was a 45 minute ordeal. And sent me off on a whole new spiral succumbing to the gravity of this whole situation.
Matt and I talked a little this morning about the cultural differences between his WASPy self and my Greekness. He was like, "I'd probably be more hands-off about the whole thing, but my parents are also younger and I have a high-functioning sister." Right, I said, and you're a son. I'm an only child, and a daughter, and in my culture, that means something entirely different. And sometimes that difference is wonderful, meaningful, amazing. Sometimes that something is a jagged little pill.
There have been other aspects of this weekend weighing heavily on me, but that's another post for another day. Meanwhile, I have a 7am therapy patient tomorrow. I'd better get to sleep...
In other news...
I don't know what it is about this post, but it's generated more nasty anonymous comments than any other post I've written. I didn't think I said anything especially inflammatory, in context. And I feel like it's a total "kick me when I'm down" thing to be so randomly nasty about a post wherein I said, "wow, I'm really feeling shitty today. Lots of bad things happened." Not to mention, uh, that was over two years ago.
Oy.
Then again, I might be a little bit sensitive these days. I went the hell off of my old personal trainer's employer yesterday because they're trying to screw me to the tune of $658 above and beyond the six months of membership fees they owe me because they were not supposed to deduct them from my bank account and did anyway. Went. Off.
Then again (again), maybe it's about time I got mad at people being ugly to me. It's long been one of the things I do most poorly. Apparently the stress of the current situation is getting my "don't fuck with me" riled up...
Oy.
Then again, I might be a little bit sensitive these days. I went the hell off of my old personal trainer's employer yesterday because they're trying to screw me to the tune of $658 above and beyond the six months of membership fees they owe me because they were not supposed to deduct them from my bank account and did anyway. Went. Off.
Then again (again), maybe it's about time I got mad at people being ugly to me. It's long been one of the things I do most poorly. Apparently the stress of the current situation is getting my "don't fuck with me" riled up...
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Such a day
Today was not the best one we've had. My mom's knees hurt, her strength wasn't as good, her attitude sagging a little bit. Plus my dad is now admitted to the hospital. He, however, is feeling a lot better after two units of blood.
I? Am just tired. My own spirits took a little bit of a hit today. I didn't sleep well last night. I'm starting to feel a little caregiver fatigue, I suppose, although I'd describe it more as feeling the weight of my life right now.
But I did make it out to a party at Helga's tonight, which was a really good time. It was nice to be around my friends again. But I definitely pooped out early... especially for me....!
I? Am just tired. My own spirits took a little bit of a hit today. I didn't sleep well last night. I'm starting to feel a little caregiver fatigue, I suppose, although I'd describe it more as feeling the weight of my life right now.
But I did make it out to a party at Helga's tonight, which was a really good time. It was nice to be around my friends again. But I definitely pooped out early... especially for me....!
Friday, May 07, 2010
Back again
So my dad went back into the hospital, which preempted a timely Friday night blog. ::sigh::
I'm so glad the weekend is here....
I'm so glad the weekend is here....
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Knifty
I think this is one of the coolest things I've seen in a while:
Today was my first day back at work. It was lovely and it was so nice to see everyone again. My dad also flew in this afternoon, so the whole clan is in NC now. Hooray.
Y'all, I'm so tired....
Today was my first day back at work. It was lovely and it was so nice to see everyone again. My dad also flew in this afternoon, so the whole clan is in NC now. Hooray.
Y'all, I'm so tired....
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Updated
So, to answer the "FAQ" (Hi, Carol), my dad is still in the hospital in Chicago. Mom and I are here in NC. We're hoping he can join us in the next few days. He's feeling pretty good, or at least that's what he tells me. We're not entirely sure why he hasn't gotten out yet, actually...
My mom and I went to dinner in the dining room tonight. It reminded me a lot of a college dining room, except with wait staff and table linens. It amused me, but I remembered what good times those were.
My mom isn't so thrilled with the idea of eating in a dining room. I'm hoping once they start meeting people, she'll enjoy it more. My stint at dorm life was brief but...
I kinda miss it, actually.
My mom and I went to dinner in the dining room tonight. It reminded me a lot of a college dining room, except with wait staff and table linens. It amused me, but I remembered what good times those were.
My mom isn't so thrilled with the idea of eating in a dining room. I'm hoping once they start meeting people, she'll enjoy it more. My stint at dorm life was brief but...
I kinda miss it, actually.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Hiatus
Sorry I've been silent the past two days, y'all. We're in NC, finally; I haven't had internet for the past two days, because I'm staying at the retirement resort with my mom.
Seriously. This place is like a cruise ship that doesn't move. It's amazing.
Today was the Day of a Billion Appointments. Well, three, but it still turned into a 10 hour day. My mom saw Neurology, Rehab Medicine, and then finally Oncology. All three went well. Her (internationally known) oncologist walks in the room, sticks out his hand and says, "Hi, I'm Hy. I'm sort of a breast cancer specialist, you know?" He seems optimistic, and not in an unreasonable way. My mom and I both felt a LOT better after talking with him.
I think I'm going back to work Thursday, finally. Hooray!
Meanwhile, I'm going to bed. I'm not sure I've ever been this tired in my entire life....
Seriously. This place is like a cruise ship that doesn't move. It's amazing.
Today was the Day of a Billion Appointments. Well, three, but it still turned into a 10 hour day. My mom saw Neurology, Rehab Medicine, and then finally Oncology. All three went well. Her (internationally known) oncologist walks in the room, sticks out his hand and says, "Hi, I'm Hy. I'm sort of a breast cancer specialist, you know?" He seems optimistic, and not in an unreasonable way. My mom and I both felt a LOT better after talking with him.
I think I'm going back to work Thursday, finally. Hooray!
Meanwhile, I'm going to bed. I'm not sure I've ever been this tired in my entire life....
Friday, April 30, 2010
Steady on
So it's 4am here in Ohio. We managed to actually get out of Chicago, me and Claudia and my mom, and get underway. We have relatives here, so this seemed like a good stopping point and chance to catch up with them. Apparently I haven't seen these people in over five years. Which is insane, because I really like these relatives.
Getting my mom out of the hospital proved to be a longer and more obnoxious venture than planned; "oh, sure, she can be out by 11 at the latest" turned into nearly 1pm. It was a long drive, but nice to see the relatives. 8 hours to go tomorrow. I'm hoping I can muster a little less insomnia tomorrow....
Getting my mom out of the hospital proved to be a longer and more obnoxious venture than planned; "oh, sure, she can be out by 11 at the latest" turned into nearly 1pm. It was a long drive, but nice to see the relatives. 8 hours to go tomorrow. I'm hoping I can muster a little less insomnia tomorrow....
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Couldn't make this shit up
Things that have significantly complicated my last 36 hours:
- My father is now in the hospital. He's two floors up from my mother. He developed a small bowel obstruction overnight (a kink in his intestines, basically), so left the house in an ambulance this am. At least they're in the same place now. But I feel like a ping-pong ball.
- People who do not call me back.
- My mom's cousin is dying of ovarian cancer. You know, the cousin she doesn't speak to. This news has really upset her, and so of course I now feel guilty for telling her.
- There are so many things about the next week that are so far up in the air I can't even tell you.
- The plan for the move this weekend has changed no less than eleven times.
- My relatives. That's all I'm saying about it.
- My mom has this friend who's all pissed at me for moving my mother. Is she going to take care of my mom? Make sure she has 24 hour supervision, makes sure she's safe and up in the morning and dressed for bed at night? Ferries her to doctors appointments and makes sure she's taking her complicated pre-chemo med regimen? Is she going to get my dad to all of his various appointments? Is she going to make sure they're meeting people at the Senior Livingresort complex? No. No she is not. Thus? She can bite me.
- I apparently had to give my apartment complex 60 days notice before I could leave. Because not renewing my lease 60 days before it was due apparently wasn't enough.
- Work kind of screwed me over yesterday as far as my position next year.
Things that have made my last 36 hours significantly better:
- I have the best friends in the whole world.
- Claudia and Roo are tolerating the plan changing over and over and over (and over). And are still both willing to drive all the way to NC with us.
- Claud and I had a really, really nice dinner Sunday, which helped to put a lot of things into perspective ("Right. And that's why your parents can't stay here"). Last night my cousin Gina and I had dinner out and a very nice heart to heart.
- Today, after this whole drama with my dad and bouncing all around and getting told that I was incompetent at what I'm doing quite well, I came to Robin's and hung out with her and Luke. She even bought me cute comfy PJs while she was out at Kohl's. We had a lovely time and Luke decided my name was Aunt Cake. And so it is.
- Peng and I had a very awesome talk today. It's weird to be homesick when I'm technically home.
- Jer and Ali are going to come pack up my folks for the move later this week. Robin is probably coming too. My relatives will be annoyed because it's going to eat into their time with us. I'm not sure I care. I'll check to see if my mom does.
- People I work with have been awesome and supportive and wonderful.
- Even if work screwed me a bit, it's still less than the amount of screwage that could be contained in an hour at the Emerald Palace.
- I still have the world's best dog, even if I do miss her ridiculously.
So, on the whole, I guess it balances.
- My father is now in the hospital. He's two floors up from my mother. He developed a small bowel obstruction overnight (a kink in his intestines, basically), so left the house in an ambulance this am. At least they're in the same place now. But I feel like a ping-pong ball.
- People who do not call me back.
- My mom's cousin is dying of ovarian cancer. You know, the cousin she doesn't speak to. This news has really upset her, and so of course I now feel guilty for telling her.
- There are so many things about the next week that are so far up in the air I can't even tell you.
- The plan for the move this weekend has changed no less than eleven times.
- My relatives. That's all I'm saying about it.
- My mom has this friend who's all pissed at me for moving my mother. Is she going to take care of my mom? Make sure she has 24 hour supervision, makes sure she's safe and up in the morning and dressed for bed at night? Ferries her to doctors appointments and makes sure she's taking her complicated pre-chemo med regimen? Is she going to get my dad to all of his various appointments? Is she going to make sure they're meeting people at the Senior Living
- I apparently had to give my apartment complex 60 days notice before I could leave. Because not renewing my lease 60 days before it was due apparently wasn't enough.
- Work kind of screwed me over yesterday as far as my position next year.
Things that have made my last 36 hours significantly better:
- I have the best friends in the whole world.
- Claudia and Roo are tolerating the plan changing over and over and over (and over). And are still both willing to drive all the way to NC with us.
- Claud and I had a really, really nice dinner Sunday, which helped to put a lot of things into perspective ("Right. And that's why your parents can't stay here"). Last night my cousin Gina and I had dinner out and a very nice heart to heart.
- Today, after this whole drama with my dad and bouncing all around and getting told that I was incompetent at what I'm doing quite well, I came to Robin's and hung out with her and Luke. She even bought me cute comfy PJs while she was out at Kohl's. We had a lovely time and Luke decided my name was Aunt Cake. And so it is.
- Peng and I had a very awesome talk today. It's weird to be homesick when I'm technically home.
- Jer and Ali are going to come pack up my folks for the move later this week. Robin is probably coming too. My relatives will be annoyed because it's going to eat into their time with us. I'm not sure I care. I'll check to see if my mom does.
- People I work with have been awesome and supportive and wonderful.
- Even if work screwed me a bit, it's still less than the amount of screwage that could be contained in an hour at the Emerald Palace.
- I still have the world's best dog, even if I do miss her ridiculously.
So, on the whole, I guess it balances.
Monday, April 26, 2010
SSDD
Today was frequently sucky.
My mom is fine. My dad is okay. There are other forces in my life acting up.
I choose to think that this is the test before something wonderful. Especially if I make it so.
Mom's doing great, actually. I'm almost afraid to jinx it. PT's hard on her, but she's making huge progress.
But the day ended well - I had coffee and a very restorative dinner with my cousin, and then a trip to Michael's where I bought cheap gigantic knitting needles for the gift basket I'm constructing for the staff (good for OT use) and a plastic canvas needlepoint for my mom. Then I came home and had a mug of hot cocoa and a chat with my dad, which was nice.
Three more days until we point the wagons East. Crazy.
My mom is fine. My dad is okay. There are other forces in my life acting up.
I choose to think that this is the test before something wonderful. Especially if I make it so.
Mom's doing great, actually. I'm almost afraid to jinx it. PT's hard on her, but she's making huge progress.
But the day ended well - I had coffee and a very restorative dinner with my cousin, and then a trip to Michael's where I bought cheap gigantic knitting needles for the gift basket I'm constructing for the staff (good for OT use) and a plastic canvas needlepoint for my mom. Then I came home and had a mug of hot cocoa and a chat with my dad, which was nice.
Three more days until we point the wagons East. Crazy.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Chicago grey
Oh....my word...this Chicago weather is killing me.
It was cold, and rainy, and sleepy out today in Chicago. My mom didn't have OT or PT, but she did have a lot of visitors, including a friend she hasn't seen in person in like 20 years. That was quite awesome, actually.
I can't figure out why I'm so damn exhausted tonight...
It was cold, and rainy, and sleepy out today in Chicago. My mom didn't have OT or PT, but she did have a lot of visitors, including a friend she hasn't seen in person in like 20 years. That was quite awesome, actually.
I can't figure out why I'm so damn exhausted tonight...
Saturday, April 24, 2010
We are never broken
Barb (of So The Thing Is... fame) has a new blog, called Listening for a Change, about finding joy in the everyday. I love and highly support this idea.
There's a Jungian concept called synchronicity, wherein two events that seem causally unrelated occur together in some sort of meaningful way, which (this is where it differs from coincidence) belies a larger system at work. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, for a number of reasons, some of them a bit spooky.
This comes up again with Barb's most recent post, Hands. Watching my mom after the stroke, doing three hours of PT and OT every day, struggling to find ways to do the smallest tasks with her right hand that would normally be so mindless... It's remarkable to watch her and her fellow rehab patients. We have ways to adapt the world to them, to a degree (like how yesterday I couldn't find a spoon that didn't have a giant grip adjuster on it). We have ways to help them adapt to the world, to an extent (walkers and wheelchairs and sock pullers and grabbers). But nothing is the same. Even her left arm is a little weaker, which is common after a contralateral brain injury. But it makes you slow down and think about a lot that we take for granted. Like being able to type this blog post - my mom has been an executive secretary for close to 45 years. Her first sign that something was amiss was when she lost her ability to type. Subsequently, she lost her ability to read, to walk, to understand language as well as she had, to do such simple things as dress herself. It's been a humbling experience, certainly for her, but also for those of us around her who are observant and sensitive.
But in the tragedy of all this change, despite its sudden and concerted efforts at derailing her life and irrevocably altering mine, there is a great deal of amazing. It's forced both of us to take a step back, to slow down, to think about the breakdown of things we would normally not even notice. Every moment becomes a triumph. Little successes become magnified. But the thing is, they should've been that important to begin with; they've always been magnificent.
I'm reminded, too, even though I spend every single day wading through the minefields of the psyche, what a remarkable piece of equipment the brain is. The progress my mom has made just within the week is extraordinary. We used to think - easily in my lifetime - that you were born with the same number of neurons you died with, and the brain couldn't repair itself. Which is nonsense. While it seems to be accurate that mature neurons don't divide (at least, the last I heard), we're starting to realize they're far more plastic and resilient that we've ever imagined. When one part of the brain takes a hit, other parts rev up and compensate to minimize the deficits. The chatter works a little like a bad phone line at first, but as the brain makes more and more new neuronal connections, the reception clears up. Knowing the nervous system as I do, having even the vaguest idea what goes on in there - seeing my mother button her shirt becomes like seeing the hand of God in her.
I spent a good deal of time today thinking about the muscles we use to let go of something (there's a great deal of poetry about that, I think). In OT today my mom was trying to put pegs in a board with her right hand. And as her muscles fatigued, she could still get her hand clamped around the peg and push the peg into the board, but she had trouble releasing the peg. And I thought, huh. People totally take that for granted. We all assume letting go is a passive process - you just stop holding on and it's over. But that's not at all true - you have multiple muscles in your arm and hand dedicated just to the extension of your fingers. There are hundreds of tiny movements involved in just picking up a pencil and setting it down again.
Imagine how much energy is involved in letting go of the big things in life. But you can't carry around that peg forever.
There's a Jungian concept called synchronicity, wherein two events that seem causally unrelated occur together in some sort of meaningful way, which (this is where it differs from coincidence) belies a larger system at work. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, for a number of reasons, some of them a bit spooky.
This comes up again with Barb's most recent post, Hands. Watching my mom after the stroke, doing three hours of PT and OT every day, struggling to find ways to do the smallest tasks with her right hand that would normally be so mindless... It's remarkable to watch her and her fellow rehab patients. We have ways to adapt the world to them, to a degree (like how yesterday I couldn't find a spoon that didn't have a giant grip adjuster on it). We have ways to help them adapt to the world, to an extent (walkers and wheelchairs and sock pullers and grabbers). But nothing is the same. Even her left arm is a little weaker, which is common after a contralateral brain injury. But it makes you slow down and think about a lot that we take for granted. Like being able to type this blog post - my mom has been an executive secretary for close to 45 years. Her first sign that something was amiss was when she lost her ability to type. Subsequently, she lost her ability to read, to walk, to understand language as well as she had, to do such simple things as dress herself. It's been a humbling experience, certainly for her, but also for those of us around her who are observant and sensitive.
But in the tragedy of all this change, despite its sudden and concerted efforts at derailing her life and irrevocably altering mine, there is a great deal of amazing. It's forced both of us to take a step back, to slow down, to think about the breakdown of things we would normally not even notice. Every moment becomes a triumph. Little successes become magnified. But the thing is, they should've been that important to begin with; they've always been magnificent.
I'm reminded, too, even though I spend every single day wading through the minefields of the psyche, what a remarkable piece of equipment the brain is. The progress my mom has made just within the week is extraordinary. We used to think - easily in my lifetime - that you were born with the same number of neurons you died with, and the brain couldn't repair itself. Which is nonsense. While it seems to be accurate that mature neurons don't divide (at least, the last I heard), we're starting to realize they're far more plastic and resilient that we've ever imagined. When one part of the brain takes a hit, other parts rev up and compensate to minimize the deficits. The chatter works a little like a bad phone line at first, but as the brain makes more and more new neuronal connections, the reception clears up. Knowing the nervous system as I do, having even the vaguest idea what goes on in there - seeing my mother button her shirt becomes like seeing the hand of God in her.
I spent a good deal of time today thinking about the muscles we use to let go of something (there's a great deal of poetry about that, I think). In OT today my mom was trying to put pegs in a board with her right hand. And as her muscles fatigued, she could still get her hand clamped around the peg and push the peg into the board, but she had trouble releasing the peg. And I thought, huh. People totally take that for granted. We all assume letting go is a passive process - you just stop holding on and it's over. But that's not at all true - you have multiple muscles in your arm and hand dedicated just to the extension of your fingers. There are hundreds of tiny movements involved in just picking up a pencil and setting it down again.
Imagine how much energy is involved in letting go of the big things in life. But you can't carry around that peg forever.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thank heaven it's almost Saturday....
...because holy crap, today sucked.
It was just long and awful for a number of reasons. And instead of whining, I give you this, which is fun and amusing.
Enjoy.
It was just long and awful for a number of reasons. And instead of whining, I give you this, which is fun and amusing.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
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