Language is the dress of thought
I was preparing the bed the other night for James with fresh laundered sheets. Nothing is better than sliding into a clean bed after a long day and a perfect shower. I was floating the sheet above the bed, ready to tuck in the corners, when James spied the absorption square that I have placed under his portion of the bed.
James declared, "Homey don't need no wee wee pad."
I laughed at this. I told him, "Damn, I think I will have to be a Boswell here and provide a direct quote."
James has not had any mishaps since he has been home. There were moments at the hospital that do not need to be relayed in any detail but I was a present during those times, even lended a hand if you will, and I did not want a repeat performance at home.
I agreed with James's assessment. It is true, Homey has come a long way.
We visited James's neurologist last week. I had a list of questions regarding the function of James's brain and one of the surgical procedures performed on him. I realized that it was not exactly clear to me why James had a partial anterior lobectomy. I am able to vividly recall the moment in which the neurological resident explained the procedure to me at Bellevue in order to obtain my consent but I do not remember the content of the conversation! In my mind's eye, I see the doctor's very long lashes and hazel eyes. He was young, handsome, and seemingly out of place wearing his Patagonia fleece jacket--he appeared more like an indoor rock climbing instructor ready to teach me about the release on a carabiner than a brain surgeon.
James had a portion of his brain removed to eliminate the necrotic tissue that resulted from the bacterial infection. I know this but somehow, when I was reading about lobectomies, I was wondering if there was a prophylactic reason behind the procedure to reduce the possibility of complications from seizures. The neurologist gave that a second of thought (which I appreciate) and said that would be unusual. He told me that most likely, the Bellevue surgeons made the decision to scoop out as much of the bacteria as possible and that would mean removing a portion of his brain.
Ok. On to the next question.
I am grateful that James's doctors are willing to discuss his case with me and take my queries seriously.
We are sad to see the outdoor pool season end. Last Friday was the final day for lap swimming. As I was changing James's shoes to water shoes for the pool deck, the park's department supervisor walked over to us and said, "You guys are my favorites. I do not know why." It was a very sweet thing to confess to us. We chatted about the end of the season--how it was difficult to wake so early and that the supervisor would now have time to sleep in again. He said, "It's great for me but I know, you will miss the pool." He asked when James had stopped using the rollator--he was a witness to the early days when James returned to the pool--he expressed such tenderness toward James and I was very touched.
One of the swimmers in the slow lane gave James his own NYC park's department T-shirt awarded to those that swim 25 miles during the summer season. It was a very generous symbolic act of camaraderie and kindness. He told James "You earned this!"
I want James to continue with his swimming into the fall. I am hoping that he will be able to swim two times a week at the Metropolitan pool. We need to coordinate a friend to walk him home after swimming but other than that--I think he's ready to be out in the world without me. Swimming has been a vital part of his recovery process and I do not want him to lose his forward momentum.
James and I watched a documentary film about Eva Hesse on PBS the other night--it was inspiring. Sol LeWitt had written Eva a letter of encouragement when she was feeling doubt about her art-making process while living in Germany. He wrote, "DO IT."
I think that is the type of simple advice that never goes stale. We all need to DO IT. Enough of the laments over Trump, the state of the art world, the lack of empathy--the list of woes that constantly circulate within my own brain.
At the same time, we must not lose our critical facilities and analytical insights. I am not the type of person that believes every act of creation is perfection. Life is hard work and rightfully so. I read a quote in an essay recently that "with no standard nothing has merit and man is capable of using even sublimity to degrade himself." We all need to be present but also, reflect deeper and make that a part of our DO IT.
James declared, "Homey don't need no wee wee pad."
I laughed at this. I told him, "Damn, I think I will have to be a Boswell here and provide a direct quote."
James has not had any mishaps since he has been home. There were moments at the hospital that do not need to be relayed in any detail but I was a present during those times, even lended a hand if you will, and I did not want a repeat performance at home.
I agreed with James's assessment. It is true, Homey has come a long way.
We visited James's neurologist last week. I had a list of questions regarding the function of James's brain and one of the surgical procedures performed on him. I realized that it was not exactly clear to me why James had a partial anterior lobectomy. I am able to vividly recall the moment in which the neurological resident explained the procedure to me at Bellevue in order to obtain my consent but I do not remember the content of the conversation! In my mind's eye, I see the doctor's very long lashes and hazel eyes. He was young, handsome, and seemingly out of place wearing his Patagonia fleece jacket--he appeared more like an indoor rock climbing instructor ready to teach me about the release on a carabiner than a brain surgeon.
James had a portion of his brain removed to eliminate the necrotic tissue that resulted from the bacterial infection. I know this but somehow, when I was reading about lobectomies, I was wondering if there was a prophylactic reason behind the procedure to reduce the possibility of complications from seizures. The neurologist gave that a second of thought (which I appreciate) and said that would be unusual. He told me that most likely, the Bellevue surgeons made the decision to scoop out as much of the bacteria as possible and that would mean removing a portion of his brain.
Ok. On to the next question.
I am grateful that James's doctors are willing to discuss his case with me and take my queries seriously.
We are sad to see the outdoor pool season end. Last Friday was the final day for lap swimming. As I was changing James's shoes to water shoes for the pool deck, the park's department supervisor walked over to us and said, "You guys are my favorites. I do not know why." It was a very sweet thing to confess to us. We chatted about the end of the season--how it was difficult to wake so early and that the supervisor would now have time to sleep in again. He said, "It's great for me but I know, you will miss the pool." He asked when James had stopped using the rollator--he was a witness to the early days when James returned to the pool--he expressed such tenderness toward James and I was very touched.
One of the swimmers in the slow lane gave James his own NYC park's department T-shirt awarded to those that swim 25 miles during the summer season. It was a very generous symbolic act of camaraderie and kindness. He told James "You earned this!"
I want James to continue with his swimming into the fall. I am hoping that he will be able to swim two times a week at the Metropolitan pool. We need to coordinate a friend to walk him home after swimming but other than that--I think he's ready to be out in the world without me. Swimming has been a vital part of his recovery process and I do not want him to lose his forward momentum.
James and I watched a documentary film about Eva Hesse on PBS the other night--it was inspiring. Sol LeWitt had written Eva a letter of encouragement when she was feeling doubt about her art-making process while living in Germany. He wrote, "DO IT."
I think that is the type of simple advice that never goes stale. We all need to DO IT. Enough of the laments over Trump, the state of the art world, the lack of empathy--the list of woes that constantly circulate within my own brain.
At the same time, we must not lose our critical facilities and analytical insights. I am not the type of person that believes every act of creation is perfection. Life is hard work and rightfully so. I read a quote in an essay recently that "with no standard nothing has merit and man is capable of using even sublimity to degrade himself." We all need to be present but also, reflect deeper and make that a part of our DO IT.
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