My injury has been the cause of many obstacles that I’ve had to overcome. And despite all the efforts and constant work, it seems they will last forever. There’s a few that have gone partially away: difficulty in finding English or Spanish words, grammatical mistakes I make when speaking English, and tiredness and nausea brought about by Kepra. This coincided with the neurologist’s decision to scale it down gradually due to the lengthening of the interval between seizures – another sign of healing.
The rest of the disabilities – inability to walk or use my arm and hand; tiredness caused by walking; inability to swallow thin liquids (unless I do it veery slowly); and a change of pitch in my voice and a slurred speech – are progressing very slowly, so much so, that on occasion I think that they’re here to stay. Sometimes, when the day comes to an end and all the tiredness washes over me, I feel like staying in bed the next day, and the next, and the next. But I wake up and have breakfast and start all over again.
Yet, despite of all the things that are either impossible to change or very gradually changing (to the point that I can’t believe they will change), there’s something my injury has given me: new and deeper friendships. It gave me friends that are always there for me; who are always ready to give; with whom I can always talk about any topic; with whom I can vent; with whom I can share ideas; with whom I can think; with whom I can laugh; with whom I can sing (with my hoarse voice). These are generous friends who are always willing to say yes, and if I don’t ask, to offer: true friends.
The rest of the disabilities – inability to walk or use my arm and hand; tiredness caused by walking; inability to swallow thin liquids (unless I do it veery slowly); and a change of pitch in my voice and a slurred speech – are progressing very slowly, so much so, that on occasion I think that they’re here to stay. Sometimes, when the day comes to an end and all the tiredness washes over me, I feel like staying in bed the next day, and the next, and the next. But I wake up and have breakfast and start all over again.
Yet, despite of all the things that are either impossible to change or very gradually changing (to the point that I can’t believe they will change), there’s something my injury has given me: new and deeper friendships. It gave me friends that are always there for me; who are always ready to give; with whom I can always talk about any topic; with whom I can vent; with whom I can share ideas; with whom I can think; with whom I can laugh; with whom I can sing (with my hoarse voice). These are generous friends who are always willing to say yes, and if I don’t ask, to offer: true friends.
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