Aphasia Ain't in Asia
I victimized my acquaintances before my aphasia. I loved my acquaintances after my aphasia. By any measure of achievement, illness is like a journey to a foreign country. It is better to travel than arrive. We travel to find exotic solutions, unusual friends, and new ways to live.
At long last, I might make your friends a good neighbor. The journey has been mostly accidental. I can't take much credit. Thank goodness for strokes. Otherwise, I might have overlooked decent and good people, who raise good kids (despite MTV); work hard (despite Wall Street); and give a hand-up to the wounded among us. I used to be one.
"Michael, I have bad news and good news." I was told. "The bad news: Aphasia is a disruption of blood supply to the brain. Brain cell death in areas where the brain controls language is serious. Only a minority recover, without therapy. The good news: Emerson, Ravel and Robert E. Lee all suffered with aphasia." The first recorded case was from an Egyptian papyrus, describing a brain injury that resulted in speech problems. These are the pep talks patients hear for every type of illness you can imagine. They're not so bad.
I'm okay now. Save your sympathy. I'm better, but not before losing most of my family and watching my former "friends" scatter like alley cats from a big dog. Behind every successful man is a woman who hasn't got a thing to wear. She's gone too.
Funny thing about strokes: They play havoc with careers. Did I mention that I was once on the cover of the Wall Street Journal? Webster's Unafraid Dictionary defines success as: "One of the great advantages of success lies in the fact that you don't have to listen to good advice any more." I didn't. Don't get me wrong. I was a real smart guy. You know, like business-smart. I was just getting used to being knee-deep in admirers, when one day, I couldn't speak. Poof! My admirers were nowhere to be found. Admirers don't like non-famous people.
I'm okay now. Save your sympathy. I'm better, but I run with a different sort of folk - anchored folk. People who help a twelve-year-old son, when his father isn't functioning well. People who helped a scared boy, when I couldn't. People who helped me negotiate my strange new world. I was not the sort of person who would have helped them. Maturity awakens when your concern for others outweighs your own. Thank goodness for strokes. Thank goodness for aphasia.
Funny thing about strokes: They force you to see yourself from another part of the universe. Sometimes that's not flattering. What a strange new world, when a twelve-year-old boy becomes your main connection to the world you once inhabited. That boy should have been luxuriating in youthful innocence. He didn't. He couldn't. Why didn't he complain? I can ask him now. My aphasia is conquered.
I'm okay now. Save your sympathy. I'm working again. I teach young Christians, Hebrew. True, it won't put me on the cover of the Wall Street Journal. True, I won't be knee deep in admirers, but I think that I am finally winning the respect of the right people. I'm okay now. I have learned that strokes and aphasia can be overcome.
The solitude a feared so much in my youth I now find delicious in my new found maturity. I ache to see my son in a universe like mine. We are desperate to be a regular family, again. I have dreams that he will see me improve our community, and know his untimely sacrifices were not wasted. I have hopes of educating those who are hungry for it - the way I was. I fought hard to get my thinking back. I agonized for it. At long last, I am building that new life. A life with fewer absolutes, more appreciation, and kindness - lots of kindness. I'm no big shot now, but I'm going to be okay - good neighbor potential - maybe your neighbor.
"Michael, I have bad news and good news." I was told. "The bad news: Aphasia is a disruption of blood supply to the brain. Brain cell death in areas where the brain controls language is serious. Only a minority recover, without therapy. The good news: Emerson, Ravel and Robert E. Lee all suffered with aphasia." The first recorded case was from an Egyptian papyrus, describing a brain injury that resulted in speech problems. These are the pep talks patients hear for every type of illness you can imagine. They're not so bad.
I'm okay now. Save your sympathy. I'm better, but not before losing most of my family and watching my former "friends" scatter like alley cats from a big dog. Behind every successful man is a woman who hasn't got a thing to wear. She's gone too.
Funny thing about strokes: They play havoc with careers. Did I mention that I was once on the cover of the Wall Street Journal? Webster's Unafraid Dictionary defines success as: "One of the great advantages of success lies in the fact that you don't have to listen to good advice any more." I didn't. Don't get me wrong. I was a real smart guy. You know, like business-smart. I was just getting used to being knee-deep in admirers, when one day, I couldn't speak. Poof! My admirers were nowhere to be found. Admirers don't like non-famous people.
I'm okay now. Save your sympathy. I'm better, but I run with a different sort of folk - anchored folk. People who help a twelve-year-old son, when his father isn't functioning well. People who helped a scared boy, when I couldn't. People who helped me negotiate my strange new world. I was not the sort of person who would have helped them. Maturity awakens when your concern for others outweighs your own. Thank goodness for strokes. Thank goodness for aphasia.
Funny thing about strokes: They force you to see yourself from another part of the universe. Sometimes that's not flattering. What a strange new world, when a twelve-year-old boy becomes your main connection to the world you once inhabited. That boy should have been luxuriating in youthful innocence. He didn't. He couldn't. Why didn't he complain? I can ask him now. My aphasia is conquered.
I'm okay now. Save your sympathy. I'm working again. I teach young Christians, Hebrew. True, it won't put me on the cover of the Wall Street Journal. True, I won't be knee deep in admirers, but I think that I am finally winning the respect of the right people. I'm okay now. I have learned that strokes and aphasia can be overcome.
The solitude a feared so much in my youth I now find delicious in my new found maturity. I ache to see my son in a universe like mine. We are desperate to be a regular family, again. I have dreams that he will see me improve our community, and know his untimely sacrifices were not wasted. I have hopes of educating those who are hungry for it - the way I was. I fought hard to get my thinking back. I agonized for it. At long last, I am building that new life. A life with fewer absolutes, more appreciation, and kindness - lots of kindness. I'm no big shot now, but I'm going to be okay - good neighbor potential - maybe your neighbor.
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