Neglect

I glance at him and realize I haven’t seen him move his left arm all afternoon. It sits, comfortably ensconced in his lap, where it has sat for hours. He is as happy as a clam, sitting on the patio with me, deep into another competitive game of Scrabble. His left-brain logic is just fine, thank you, and he is darn comfortable with it.

Earlier, he had asked for today’s newspapaper with the unfinished crossword puzzle. “I do my crossword puzzles in pen, Sweetie,” he said, waving away my pencil with the good chunk of eraser on top. “Can’t you find me a pen?” I shrugged and found him a pen. And, back to the present, come to think of it, that left leg hasn’t moved an inch, either. “I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, when I bring it to his attention. “I'm bad!"
"Would you stop that," I laugh as I whack him with the Scrabble score pad.

Neglect: a medical term describing, simply, a manifestation common among stroke patients wherein they are unable to, or prefer not to recognize body parts affected by the stroke. Some patients lose both movement and sensation in the affected extremities, while others have almost a kind of hypersensitivity, yet no movement. My dad falls into the latter category. I have heard humorous stories from rehab therapists regarding this phenomenon. They related tales of patients who thought the affected extremity belonged to their spouse or who thought the limb was missing. One justifiably terrified patient thought his arm was a wild animal in bed with him! Most patients, their lives turned upside down and inside out, just tend to ignore the affected extremities. How else to cope with the loss of functions taken for granted: mobility, a myriad of speech, taste and swallowing abilities, emotional stability, bowel and/or bladder function, to name but a few?

In my dad’s case, along with his left sided hemiplegia, his right-brain function was invisibly altered. His ability to self-cue is diminshed, he struggles with emotional instability and he is unable to explain himself when he is not feeling well. How on earth must that reality feel in the depths of one’s self-awareness? Pensive, by nature, my personal sphere of reality is often influenced by a right-brained “muse.” My muse perpetuates uninvited feelings, scattered emotions, and a keen awareness of emotional and physical pain in those with whom I interact. Actually, there are times when I would like that muse to cease. When feelings or intuitions threaten to overwhelm, I want to shut it down, and please, please, let my logical, Spock-like, left-brain have its say!

As I am writing, clarity dawns. Possessing adequate portions of left-brain logic, I compently function where God has placed me. My mix also contains heaping portions of right-brain flexibility, compassion, responsiveness to beauty, a tendency towards the illogical, intuitive understanding and creativity. NEGLECT! How very often have I neglected my own persona, instead of receiving it as a gift? Abba, Father...of course, you knew.

We sit out on the patio today, our two brains forming a terrific whole. He can beat the heck out of me in Scrabble remembering obscure crossword puzzle gems, and I remind him to move his arm, his leg and work his tongue for a stronger swallow. He regales me with explanations about the inner workings of the wireless modem on his laptop computer and I patiently explain, yet again, why his diminished right-brain function would make him dangerous in the driver’s seat. Yes, we flow, flow in synch, out here on the patio...blessed to be together...for one more day.