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| Barb Polan Barb’s Recovery |
This morning, I stumbled on a "stroke comic book" blog, which, of course, attracted my attention. Written by a woman who had a stroke 4 years ago at the age of 26, the entries, which were all amusing, were thought-provoking too. Each was accompanied by an illustration / photo. For example, in one, a beautiful woman with a large rack and an arm missing from the elbow to the hand, was wearing lingerie and staring at the camera. The caption read something along the lines of, "Look at my eyes, yes, my eyes."
In another entry, she posted a photo of a woman in an old-fashioned full-length bra, along with the question: "How do you put on a bra one-handed? Comments, please."
Among the dozen answers, including one from a man, was one from a stroke survivor I know from online. Her answer was that the day she could put on a bra two-handed would be a milestone [or would let her know she has recovered or something along those lines.]
My response, of course, was to declare to myself," I'm wearing a bra today."
Like many acts now, the decision was easy, but the implementation more challenging than I expected.
Because bras have been so difficult for me in the past, I had given up long ago and switched to camisoles, which are easy.
But I am far too young and too vain to wear camisoles much longer. Sure, if they look like undershirts, I can wear a scarf, vest or sweatshirt to cover the evidence, but that's not always appropriate ( think: in the gym, on an 80-degree day, etc.)
Back to this morning's challenge...
My first OT had suggested fastening the strap and then pulling it on overhead, as he had taught me to put on T-shirts - which seemed to me to be a guy's solution. Ditto my second OT, a woman. After that proved sporadically successful, I created a third possibility: fastening it, then climbing in, like I put on panties, then pull up to under my breasts, straighten out the band around my ribcage and then pull the straps up over my shoulders. There is often the problem that between sticking my feet in and getting the bra as high as it needs to go, the straps and/or band get tangled together so that the straps are irretrievable.
This morning, I picked out a soft pink Henley that looks awful over a camisole, as insurance that I would be successful (although I did decide which scarf I would wear should I fail).
After 10 minutes of attempting to get the latch fastened - I had purchased it online because it had a front closure, which I had thought would be helpful - I was successful. Again, my teeth were invaluable.
Pulling it on, though, several times I put one leg through the hole for an arm, I stepped into it with the bra backwards, and so on; then I would pull it off and try again, only to fail. After 20 minutes of that, I was quietly crying and opted for a camisole and scarf. As soon as I finished putting those on, Patricia came down the hall, calling for me because it was taking me so long to dress. When she came in and saw me crying, she recognized it as something other than my "I hate my life, I hate my body, I hate my mind, I am so tired of this," cry, and she convinced me that, although it was important to me to do it myself, I should let her help me.
When she picked up the bra, after admiring it (it is purple lace, after all), she discovered that, in closing the clasp, the band was already twisted and there was "no way" I would have been able to get it on correctly.
When she was leaving the dressing room, Patricia ( a yoga instructor for 20 years) said,"Yogi Bhajan” said that now, during the Age of Aquarius, no one is going to get into heaven alone.
We are all interdependent. That's yet another lesson I've learned through this ordeal.
I am now sitting here in my bra, Henley, and jeans writing this blog and knowing that I can try again tomorrow.
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