the PDF of her book - National Aphasia Association
the PDF of her book - National Aphasia Association
the PDF of her book - National Aphasia Association
You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
Tales from <strong>the</strong> O<strong>the</strong>r Side <strong>of</strong> Language 37<br />
Speech and Language Pathology. Much later I learn she began <strong>the</strong> department<br />
at Rusk, created modern speech rehabilitation, and was awarded a honorary<br />
doctor <strong>of</strong> medicine from <strong>the</strong> University <strong>of</strong> Goteborg, Sweden.<br />
At first <strong>her</strong> <strong>of</strong>fice looks small and nondescript, but entering, I see it is<br />
wrapped around <strong>the</strong> edge <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> building, with huge windows looking high<br />
over <strong>the</strong> city. I’m in a spacious tower.<br />
She is listening carefully as I rush haltingly to tell my medical story, <strong>the</strong>n<br />
how tired I am all <strong>the</strong> time with my practice. At length, I am spent.<br />
Gently she tells me, “You are imploding yourself with language in<br />
trying to do a clinical practice. You’re exhausted because you are trying to<br />
do what you can’t do!”<br />
My body, straining to attend to <strong>her</strong> words, relaxes its grip. “S..o…! That’s<br />
all … it is!” I think. Suddenly I feel euphoric; it seems possible now.<br />
“Most aphasics with <strong>the</strong> kind <strong>of</strong> insult you had don’t continue in high<br />
verbal pr<strong>of</strong>essions like yours.” T<strong>her</strong>e isn’t anything dreadfully wrong, only<br />
that I am trying to go beyond what my damaged brain can manage. She does<br />
not dissuade me from continuing my practice. “I’m thinking how it would<br />
be for me as an academic,” she continues. She speaks as though she has<br />
been in my place. She penetrates my desires and my losses and takes me far<br />
beyond <strong>the</strong> reflection <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> worn bag lady. I feel seen, with all <strong>the</strong> pieces <strong>of</strong><br />
me disarrayed before <strong>her</strong>.<br />
“One recovers from stroke. One doesn’t recover from aphasia, but,<br />
ra<strong>the</strong>r, with aphasia,” she says.<br />
I won’t be “cured,” I think. This is curiously reassuring and feels like<br />
she has spoken my reality. Live with it, not against or despite it, as I have<br />
been doing.<br />
“Do any <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> arts that please you, and do <strong>the</strong>m a lot,” she tells me. I<br />
didn’t expect this; she has handed me an immense gift. I imagine <strong>her</strong> words<br />
written on a prescription pad.<br />
She shows me how to set practical priorities carefully and <strong>of</strong>ten simply<br />
do less. I space my few <strong>of</strong>fice sessions over <strong>the</strong> day, allowing time in between<br />
to do non-verbal activities, listen to music, look at art, do hand work, exercise,