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| Barb Polan Barb's Recovery |
Ever happen to you that, after having lost someone - to death or from a break-up - you catch glimpses of that person everywhere you go? There's a stranger ahead who walks like a friend you lost to cancer, or whose turn of his head reminds you of your last boyfriend. When it happens, I study the person intently until I find a reason to differentiate that person from my lost loved one, then back off. It takes time to wear off. Even though my mother died 22 years, 11 months, and 12 days ago, I still see characteristics of hers in 60-year-old women on the street. My daughter is a songwriter - and much of her early inspiration came from heartache. One song I particularly like is "Pieces of him." The singer has been dumped by her soulmate and sees "pieces of him everywhere." Although I might not be right about what she meant, I always interpret it that way - as though she sees the person the way my missing beloveds haunt me. Maybe not. But, in fact, this happens to me frequently now post-stroke - I catch glimpses of my former life and the people and circumstances that are lost to me; to cope, I try to focus on now and my future from HERE, not from THERE. I don't dwell - just watch until it's gone. Suppose I see a rower I used to spend a lot of time rowing with: my first reaction is a blast of pleasure, and then a lateral link (to my memory folder) to watching her/his back during a row; and I watch until I realize how far I have to go, the work I have to do - the rewarding work - to get there again. Or while doing my editing work, I want to leap in and correct something going wrong, but I realize it's not my responsibility anymore - and I back off and wait for it to be solved by someone else. I loved jumping in to fix something before, but my choice to commit to being a writer is perfect for my life based on where I am now. Last night I was frustrated by being limited to using just one hand. I was crying while I struggled with a washcloth and a bottle of soap in the shower, which is a pretty good place to cry. This morning, though, after a dream in which I watched everyone's second hand helping with tasks (and glimpsing myself doing the same), I woke up thinking how impressed I am by myself for making it as far as I have one-handed. And one-legged, because my leg is progressing right along and works very well for me RIGHT NOW and given how it started - I was not able to put weight on it without falling. All I have to do to recover is to remember being in rehab and the nurses insisting on putting on my bed alarm, which would go off if I sat on the edge of my bed - a precursor to me getting out of bed, standing and falling. BTW, eventually I could explain to my visitors how to shut off the alarm - it wasn't hard, just out of my reach; that is, it would alarm if I tried to get in position to push the button off. Busted.
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