Archives for the Month of February, 2011

Scribble

Scribble

Scribble

A month or so after brain surgery, whenever I looked at a large white space, like a blank wall, for a moment it would be covered with scrawls, as if a giant child had been turned loose on it with a fat black marker.

This was better than immediately after brain surgery, when I hallucinated acrobats: http://mindpop.net/2010/11/03/acrobats

Shoe

Shoe / wpclipart.com

Shoe / wpclipart.com

Stroke victims often wear an ankle brace on the bad leg. It is designed to keep you from tripping all over the place, while your ankle doesn’t work properly. The brace is huge, plastic up to your calf, and bulky, often requiring a shoe several sizes bigger than your feet.

Women particularly hate their ankle brace. You can’t wear a skirt without drawing attention to it. There goes femininity.

I made a recording early on. Here is one part:

And I may never wear nice shoes again, which makes me sad. I want to wear nice shoes. I want to wear nice shoes. And I want to not wear these giant clunky shoes that I have to wear.


Patience

Clock 1875 / Wellcome Images

Clock 1875 / Wellcome Images

I was not a patient person before my stroke. I am now. Your view of time shifts as your mind and body reboot, ever so slowly.

A friend recently asked me if I was angry. The correct answer is “Of course.” How could I not be, as I have had to put my life on hold?

I’m patient now, but angry too. Tick-tock, tick-tock…

Miss Manners and Meat

The Book of Household Management 1861 / Wellcome Images

The Book of Household Management 1861 / Wellcome Images

When I’m on a date at a restaurant, I may want to order a piece of meat — steak, chicken, etc. But I don’t, because cutting meat with one hand is a pain. Miss Manners says, “Asking your date to help you cut up your dinner is bad form.”

Door

Hair Tonic Ad / Wellcome Images

Hair Tonic Ad / Wellcome Images


Before I had brain surgery, my friend Helen offered to shave her head in solidarity. But the surgeon didn’t shave off much hair, so she didn’t have to. He made an arc-shaped door to my head behind my hairline on the left side, and shaved just the area around it. After surgery, I looked like a wacked punk rocker for a while, shorn on one side. Now I have scars in my hair like a door.