Am I brain damaged?
It was nice and cool in our apartment this morning due to good cross ventilation from open windows at night. I did several loads of laundry early (cat vomit on the bed yesterday which meant stripping everything down and adding that to the weekly load) and when I opened the front door to the street, I was assaulted by the rise in temperature and humidity--instant summer!
James is longing to go outside but I have to place a request for authorization ahead of time if I want to take him to the park. I completely forgot that the nurses must have a pre-signed order by the doctor in James's file for me to take him out. I plan on placing two orders on Monday for next weekend!
The hospital hosted an ice-cream social for patients and their families this afternoon so we went down to the recreation room on the spinal injury floor. James moved into his wheel chair and I cruised him over to the elevator. A nurse checked us in and confirmed that only Imogen and I would be served ice-cream. I could tell James was uncomfortable with the noise level in the room (Queen on the radio, families playing scrabble, cheerful ice-cream server voices). He played a game called Connect Four with Imogen in which a player places checker-size chips into a plastic grid to attempt to make a row of four against another opponent. Imogen won the first round and James beat me in the second. He pushed the game aside for Imogen and me to play and I could tell his discomfort level was rising.
I asked him if he felt ok and he said, "I need to go soon." We finished our game and I took him back to his room. He was visibly relieved. The day room was full with one patient's family so Imogen remained in James's room and worked on her homework. I brought out the watercolors and James made a painting of Imogen studying.
Imogen placed headphones on and watched a show on her ipad. James finished his painting and we sat together and talked.
James has recently realized that everyone around him has a brain disability. He told me, "Everyone here has brain damage." I said, "Yes, that is true. Every patient in rehabilitation has a form of brain trauma." I explained that no one uses the term "brain damaged" at Mt. Sinai. The preferred term is traumatic brain injury. James looked at me with concern on his face, "Am I brain damaged too?"
I had a feeling James did not understand what has happened to him and that he is starting to wonder about his current state. Due to his brain injury, James has an inability to understand his own state as well as a mixture of magical thinking to fill in that void of knowledge for himself. He has his own inner story and it did not include a picture of himself as a brain damaged person.
I told him this afternoon, "Yes, you have brain damage. They removed a part of your brain during your second surgery." James was astounded by this although I have told him this numerous times before. His lack of short term memory combined with his belief that he had a virus and was now cured of that virus, has meant that he thought he was separate from the other patients. Something must have clicked for him today, by participating in the ice-cream social with the other patients (one woman had a protective neck brace and helmet on) and attending the lecture on Friday--he has come to understand that he is one of THEM.
He may completely forget our conversation today and I will explain it to him again tomorrow and in the coming weeks. I told him that I would tell him the story of his surgeries and his time in the intensive care, later, when he is stronger and will be able to understand it better.
James was on Facebook today and read a posting about the death of his mother's brother, Larry. I was waiting to tell him of his uncle's death and it did not occur to me that it would be posted on Facebook! Yikes! James was stunned. I apologized for not sharing Larry's death with him. I explained to James that I was worried that he was not in the position to understand Larry's death. I think this contributed to his realization that his brain is not whole.
James and I deeply love Larry and his wife, Arline, who survived him, despite the fact that we rarely see them. We have wanted to visit them in Florida for years. James immediately said to me, "This must be so difficult for mom."
Then, he scrolled on. I am not sure how this knowledge will effect him later today or if he will remember it.
While James was working on his painting of Imogen, I looked through a book that Charles brought for James of images from the Guggenheim collection. During group therapy, James had mentioned his Northern California influences with regard to painting but did not include Hans Hofmann. I asked him why that was the case when I know that the paintings by Hofmann at Berkeley had a profound effect on him as a painter. James told me, "Oh, that was such a separate thing, that had to do with Berkeley, not California." I thought that was a funny way of putting it but completely true! James would never think of Hofmann as a Californian.
I read to him a quote by Hofmann from the book and James said to me, "I want to post that on Facebook."
I want to be careful not to curate James's life. He is so open now and I do not want to invade his space, not even for a moment. I have always offered my own interests to discuss with James's through the lens of his work--inject a bit of linguistics into a concept of one of his paintings, if that was my current fancy--but James was always a partner in that dialogue. I do not want to provide any inspiration that he may not claim as his own.
James is disabled. It is a strange concept for both of us to understand. We always joked that we were one brain with two bodies.
I will keep reminding him of the short term, while his memory is repairing--as best as I am able with my muddled, middle-aged brain. Today, I could not recall the name of one of our dear swimmer friends. I was describing her, her husband and her job, to see if James would know. James easily recalled her name by my clues. Makes me wonder who really is the brain damaged one around here.
James is longing to go outside but I have to place a request for authorization ahead of time if I want to take him to the park. I completely forgot that the nurses must have a pre-signed order by the doctor in James's file for me to take him out. I plan on placing two orders on Monday for next weekend!
The hospital hosted an ice-cream social for patients and their families this afternoon so we went down to the recreation room on the spinal injury floor. James moved into his wheel chair and I cruised him over to the elevator. A nurse checked us in and confirmed that only Imogen and I would be served ice-cream. I could tell James was uncomfortable with the noise level in the room (Queen on the radio, families playing scrabble, cheerful ice-cream server voices). He played a game called Connect Four with Imogen in which a player places checker-size chips into a plastic grid to attempt to make a row of four against another opponent. Imogen won the first round and James beat me in the second. He pushed the game aside for Imogen and me to play and I could tell his discomfort level was rising.
I asked him if he felt ok and he said, "I need to go soon." We finished our game and I took him back to his room. He was visibly relieved. The day room was full with one patient's family so Imogen remained in James's room and worked on her homework. I brought out the watercolors and James made a painting of Imogen studying.
Imogen placed headphones on and watched a show on her ipad. James finished his painting and we sat together and talked.
James has recently realized that everyone around him has a brain disability. He told me, "Everyone here has brain damage." I said, "Yes, that is true. Every patient in rehabilitation has a form of brain trauma." I explained that no one uses the term "brain damaged" at Mt. Sinai. The preferred term is traumatic brain injury. James looked at me with concern on his face, "Am I brain damaged too?"
I had a feeling James did not understand what has happened to him and that he is starting to wonder about his current state. Due to his brain injury, James has an inability to understand his own state as well as a mixture of magical thinking to fill in that void of knowledge for himself. He has his own inner story and it did not include a picture of himself as a brain damaged person.
I told him this afternoon, "Yes, you have brain damage. They removed a part of your brain during your second surgery." James was astounded by this although I have told him this numerous times before. His lack of short term memory combined with his belief that he had a virus and was now cured of that virus, has meant that he thought he was separate from the other patients. Something must have clicked for him today, by participating in the ice-cream social with the other patients (one woman had a protective neck brace and helmet on) and attending the lecture on Friday--he has come to understand that he is one of THEM.
He may completely forget our conversation today and I will explain it to him again tomorrow and in the coming weeks. I told him that I would tell him the story of his surgeries and his time in the intensive care, later, when he is stronger and will be able to understand it better.
James was on Facebook today and read a posting about the death of his mother's brother, Larry. I was waiting to tell him of his uncle's death and it did not occur to me that it would be posted on Facebook! Yikes! James was stunned. I apologized for not sharing Larry's death with him. I explained to James that I was worried that he was not in the position to understand Larry's death. I think this contributed to his realization that his brain is not whole.
James and I deeply love Larry and his wife, Arline, who survived him, despite the fact that we rarely see them. We have wanted to visit them in Florida for years. James immediately said to me, "This must be so difficult for mom."
Then, he scrolled on. I am not sure how this knowledge will effect him later today or if he will remember it.
While James was working on his painting of Imogen, I looked through a book that Charles brought for James of images from the Guggenheim collection. During group therapy, James had mentioned his Northern California influences with regard to painting but did not include Hans Hofmann. I asked him why that was the case when I know that the paintings by Hofmann at Berkeley had a profound effect on him as a painter. James told me, "Oh, that was such a separate thing, that had to do with Berkeley, not California." I thought that was a funny way of putting it but completely true! James would never think of Hofmann as a Californian.
I read to him a quote by Hofmann from the book and James said to me, "I want to post that on Facebook."
I want to be careful not to curate James's life. He is so open now and I do not want to invade his space, not even for a moment. I have always offered my own interests to discuss with James's through the lens of his work--inject a bit of linguistics into a concept of one of his paintings, if that was my current fancy--but James was always a partner in that dialogue. I do not want to provide any inspiration that he may not claim as his own.
James is disabled. It is a strange concept for both of us to understand. We always joked that we were one brain with two bodies.
I will keep reminding him of the short term, while his memory is repairing--as best as I am able with my muddled, middle-aged brain. Today, I could not recall the name of one of our dear swimmer friends. I was describing her, her husband and her job, to see if James would know. James easily recalled her name by my clues. Makes me wonder who really is the brain damaged one around here.
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