I met a man
almost two years ago named Jack. We met at an aphasia therapy group organized
by the Speech Pathology Department at Idaho State University. I was one of 8
participants for a 2 week program designed to help people who have Aphasia.
The National
Aphasia Association defines our condition this way:
What
is aphasia? Aphasia is an impairment of language, affecting the
production or comprehension of speech and the ability to read or write.
Aphasia is always due to injury to
the brain-most commonly from a stroke, particularly in older
individuals. But brain injuries resulting in aphasia may also arise from head trauma, from brain tumors, or from infections.
Aphasia can be so severe as to make communication with the patient almost impossible, or it can be very mild. It may affect
mainly a single aspect of language use, such as the ability to retrieve the
names of objects, or the ability to put words together into sentences, or the
ability to read. More commonly, however, multiple aspects of communication are
impaired, while some channels remain accessible for a limited exchange of
information. It is the job of the professional to determine the amount of
function available in each of the channels for the comprehension of language,
and to assess the possibility that treatment might enhance the use of the
channels that are available.
That
first day, everyone had to introduce themselves which was tough because
people had difficulty expressing why we were there. People had varying degrees
of communication issues.
When
Jack introduced himself and his wife, he concluded saying “I can drive!” People
chuckled in a knowing way. When you have a stroke and/or a brain injury, people
often cannot drive including me at that time.
One
day, I needed a ride, and Jack drove me home. He was very proud of his new car,
a Kia Soul. Jack seemed so “normal” to me. I was envious. It seemed that his “issue”
was a slight speech impediment.
Months
later, my wife and I ran into Jack and his wife at a Boise State University football
game. I was happy with my stroke recovery, and I asked them how they were
doing.
In
a nutshell, their life was so challenging. They lost longtime friends who just became invisible.
That is common when you have a stroke. More troubling was their children who
lived out of town. The adult children insisted that Jack could not drive again
and they wanted them to sell their house and go into a assisted living facility. The
“kids” said that Jack “might” have Alzheimer’s even though there was no diagnosis
of that.
I
was appalled that their adult children from out of town insisted that they had
to sell their car, they house, and most of their belongings to go into a 600 square
foot “apartment.” I said “Why would you agree to do that?”
He
shrugged his shoulders and grimaced a bit, and said something like this, “I just don’t want to fight anymore. It's just easier to let it go.”
Jack’s
kids swooped in from out of town and hijacked his life. And they hijacked his
soul. And they left.
When you have a stroke, it seems that your soul might be the only thing left.
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