Coming Out of a Dark Hole....
Dear Friends --
No, that doesn't describe Jane. But it does describe me. At the end of June, I came down with a serious case of bronchitis. I seem particularly susceptible to bronchitis, and once I get it, it hangs on. And this bronchitis did hang on. In fact, it's still hanging on. I've had just enough energy to see clients, come home & crash, then vegetate & try to recoup on the weekends.
Jane keeps improving. Just before bronchitis hit, I was writing something about her improvement, which I hope to send later. But right now, I don't have the energy. Suffice it to say that she is not only getting back more memories, and able to better reach more words, she is also integrating this, which is obvious, but much harder to describe, to pinpoint. And not only is Jane integrating information, "Jane" is integrating more & more; she's coming back into the person not that she was, but that she was and is now having gone through all this -- if that makes sense.
[As I read this, Jane nodded her understanding -- it made sense to her.]
Let me give once instance of Jane's integrating: coffee making.
This morning, Jane was working on her homework for speech therapy. Jane works very hard, daily, on getting better, both with the homework the speech therapist gives, and with the exercises I'm trying. She often puts in a solid eight hours or more. This past week, Jane tried typing on the computer again. She'd been extremely frustrated -- more appalled -- with her results when she first tried the computer about a month ago. Recently, I'd been asking her to write out memories, getting more details. Writing by hand was very frustrating for her. Jane hasn't written much by hand in years -- actually not since she learned to type in high school. So she was complaining, and both Les & I encouraged her to try the computer again.
She did, and she did quite well. It turned out much easier, much more "natural" for her than handwriting.
Pardon this computer aside, but I thought you might like to know. It shows skills, not only memories coming back.
Anyway, this morning, as Jane was lying on the couch going through her speech therapy homework, I asked her if she could describe the change that she'd noticed in her morning coffee making, something she'd mentioned a few days before.
(I add that the fact Jane is noticing an improvement this subtle speaks well to these higher functioning skills, to Jane as a whole person coming back.)
You notice, of course, that Jane still has her distinctive way of talking. That, I suspect, will be around for a while. But there's a lot more awareness behind it.
"The thing that you make coffee in, the machine," Jane said, "looked as though it had a...." She paused and struggled for words, something very common. "A number of parts that needed to be used somehow. And I'd look at it, and feel like I had to think & think to figure what I did next. It's pitiful, but that's where it was."
[Jane smiled.]
"You mentioned," I said, "that before, if anything wasn't in the right place -- like a glass left in front of the coffee grinder, you'd get lost, hopeless lost."
Jane laughed. "I did. Because while I had an idea what had to be done -- there had to be groups put in, like the coffee bans...?" She frowned.
"Beans," I said.
"Beans," she agreed. "They had to be entered, and fixed somehow, before you did that." Jane laughed, realizing that the words were approximate -- not scrambled, but next door neighbors. I think Jane was more loose in her talking because I'd interrupted her from deep concentration on something else.
"And," she continued, "there was a certain amount of water needed. But I couldn't think of what went into what piece, and was there a special way it had to be done. I could not figure it out. Each time I had to stop & think."
"What changed?" I asked.
"I think it came a little on the slowly side," she said. "Because I made it every day." She paused. "I think one morning one thing was clear to me, and another morning, another thing was clear to me. And now, I don't have to think so hard. I just know what to do, and I do it without thinking --even if I get distracted."
Which is true. Because often since I've been sick, Jane gets up before me, and she makes coffee while I'm still in bed.
So that's the news from our cabin in the Rockies. With luck, Jane & I, maybe Les, too, will go out for our first walk in the local National Monument -- Florissant -- which has lovely petrified sequoia stumps and some fairly level paths through open woods & grasslands. Should be some wildflowers, too.
With more luck, I'll continue to improve, and maybe some time this week I'll finish up that earlier description. I'm spending more & more time trying to think through what Jane needs, what might better help her. In this, I'm reading a lot of the philosopher/psychologist, Eugene Gendlin, with whom both Jane & I studied. I'm trying to combine this with psychiatrist, Daniel Seigel's book, The Developing Mind, which describes how personal relationships, neurology (i.e., the physical brain) and the mind or self develop together. If I get a bit further with that, I may post something.
Hope all goes will with you. My apologies about not responding to emails. I hope to catch up with that in the next few days. We really do look forward to hearing from you all, how you're doing. It always sparks interest & memories for Jane, and we appreciate it.
Jane, Les & Dave
No, that doesn't describe Jane. But it does describe me. At the end of June, I came down with a serious case of bronchitis. I seem particularly susceptible to bronchitis, and once I get it, it hangs on. And this bronchitis did hang on. In fact, it's still hanging on. I've had just enough energy to see clients, come home & crash, then vegetate & try to recoup on the weekends.
Jane keeps improving. Just before bronchitis hit, I was writing something about her improvement, which I hope to send later. But right now, I don't have the energy. Suffice it to say that she is not only getting back more memories, and able to better reach more words, she is also integrating this, which is obvious, but much harder to describe, to pinpoint. And not only is Jane integrating information, "Jane" is integrating more & more; she's coming back into the person not that she was, but that she was and is now having gone through all this -- if that makes sense.
[As I read this, Jane nodded her understanding -- it made sense to her.]
Let me give once instance of Jane's integrating: coffee making.
This morning, Jane was working on her homework for speech therapy. Jane works very hard, daily, on getting better, both with the homework the speech therapist gives, and with the exercises I'm trying. She often puts in a solid eight hours or more. This past week, Jane tried typing on the computer again. She'd been extremely frustrated -- more appalled -- with her results when she first tried the computer about a month ago. Recently, I'd been asking her to write out memories, getting more details. Writing by hand was very frustrating for her. Jane hasn't written much by hand in years -- actually not since she learned to type in high school. So she was complaining, and both Les & I encouraged her to try the computer again.
She did, and she did quite well. It turned out much easier, much more "natural" for her than handwriting.
Pardon this computer aside, but I thought you might like to know. It shows skills, not only memories coming back.
Anyway, this morning, as Jane was lying on the couch going through her speech therapy homework, I asked her if she could describe the change that she'd noticed in her morning coffee making, something she'd mentioned a few days before.
(I add that the fact Jane is noticing an improvement this subtle speaks well to these higher functioning skills, to Jane as a whole person coming back.)
You notice, of course, that Jane still has her distinctive way of talking. That, I suspect, will be around for a while. But there's a lot more awareness behind it.
"The thing that you make coffee in, the machine," Jane said, "looked as though it had a...." She paused and struggled for words, something very common. "A number of parts that needed to be used somehow. And I'd look at it, and feel like I had to think & think to figure what I did next. It's pitiful, but that's where it was."
[Jane smiled.]
"You mentioned," I said, "that before, if anything wasn't in the right place -- like a glass left in front of the coffee grinder, you'd get lost, hopeless lost."
Jane laughed. "I did. Because while I had an idea what had to be done -- there had to be groups put in, like the coffee bans...?" She frowned.
"Beans," I said.
"Beans," she agreed. "They had to be entered, and fixed somehow, before you did that." Jane laughed, realizing that the words were approximate -- not scrambled, but next door neighbors. I think Jane was more loose in her talking because I'd interrupted her from deep concentration on something else.
"And," she continued, "there was a certain amount of water needed. But I couldn't think of what went into what piece, and was there a special way it had to be done. I could not figure it out. Each time I had to stop & think."
"What changed?" I asked.
"I think it came a little on the slowly side," she said. "Because I made it every day." She paused. "I think one morning one thing was clear to me, and another morning, another thing was clear to me. And now, I don't have to think so hard. I just know what to do, and I do it without thinking --even if I get distracted."
Which is true. Because often since I've been sick, Jane gets up before me, and she makes coffee while I'm still in bed.
So that's the news from our cabin in the Rockies. With luck, Jane & I, maybe Les, too, will go out for our first walk in the local National Monument -- Florissant -- which has lovely petrified sequoia stumps and some fairly level paths through open woods & grasslands. Should be some wildflowers, too.
With more luck, I'll continue to improve, and maybe some time this week I'll finish up that earlier description. I'm spending more & more time trying to think through what Jane needs, what might better help her. In this, I'm reading a lot of the philosopher/psychologist, Eugene Gendlin, with whom both Jane & I studied. I'm trying to combine this with psychiatrist, Daniel Seigel's book, The Developing Mind, which describes how personal relationships, neurology (i.e., the physical brain) and the mind or self develop together. If I get a bit further with that, I may post something.
Hope all goes will with you. My apologies about not responding to emails. I hope to catch up with that in the next few days. We really do look forward to hearing from you all, how you're doing. It always sparks interest & memories for Jane, and we appreciate it.
Jane, Les & Dave