Redefining Disability Project: Post #21

http://rosebfischer.com/2014/07/01/redefining-disability-an-interactive-blogging-project/

Welcome all. It's Tuesday again. Time to answer another question.Oh, never mind about that. It's a free post day when I can talk about anything I want. {hehehe] Look out world. Here I come.

Today, I'm going to talk about attitude and perception. As if I don't talk about it enough. I feel a lot of healing takes place with the proper outlook. My momma used to tell me "can't never could."No matter what comes down the pike for me, I always remember that.

What did she mean by that? Simply, if you say you can't, you won't. Half the battle of anything in this life is the trial and error to complete a task. If you say you can't you have lost the battle. I gladly used that sage advice with my own children too. But just like my momma, I always gave them an out to hedge against frustration. I told them to make two honest attempts to try to figure it out on their own before coming to me for help. I wouldn't show them all the way, but tempered my help to where they could figure it out on their own. I always lavished praise on them for their critical thinking. This was probably the best lesson I could have taught them. It was for me.

If you look at anything as a pass or failure, you will probably fail at everything and think of yourself as a complete failure at everything you attempt. Where's you backbone? Where's your resolve? If you fail the first time or even the twentieth time, do you give up? Yep you are a failure.

After my back surgery left me wheelchair bound and the doctors were telling me I'd never walk again unassisted. I could have failed and given up. I could have struggled the rest of my life raising five children from that chair. But no, I had resolve enough to not accept their decision or prognosis and keep trying to walk again unassisted. It took me almost three years. If I had given up, I would have failed in my desire to prove them wrong. You aren't a failure at something until you give up.

Okay, with that being said, there are times when you really can't do. It is a physical impossibility like you are blind and short of an eye transplant or a miracle, you will never see again. So do you sit around feeling sorry for yourself? For the rest of your life? I've known a few folks like that. They don't get pity or reinforcement for their bad attitude from me. And, those (caregivers, loved ones, friends, or strangers) that feed  such an attitude isn't doing that person any favors. That person needs a reality check big time. The good Lord help them if it is me.

After my stroke, I could have laid in bed after I came home from the hospital. My family would have let me for the most part. Even my husband, teetering on death's door would have died trying to do for me. I actually had to fight to regain some of my independence. Now, they offer help, but respect me when I say I can do it. Yes, I might struggle with a task. Yes, it might be faster if they did it with their two functioning hands or legs. But, the point is I CAN do.

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you'll realize that I'm a fighter. I'm also very head strong. I'd rather take the bull by the horn than slip in the piles he leaves behind. Often, it's a stinky, awful mess. I'd rather be proactive in all things. I wasn't always this way, but I'm thankful I am now. I'm much happy in my life.

Happy? You are happy in your life? With all that you have going on? Yep, I am. Not ecstatically happy, but I am content. Things can ALWAYS be worse. I'd rather not go there.

With the right attitude, perception of self, and self worth, I can do anything I want to do within reason. I mean, I won't go sky diving any more, but that was a miniscule part of my life that I really don't want to do again. It's sage wisdom comes with age, why jump out of a perfectly good airplane? I use quantifiers with things I can't do like "yet."  I believe adamantly that I will do that again. That was another thing my momma told me, "There will always be an again." Although, she didn't mean it this way. She meant as a response to the word "never."

To date, I have done things that no one else, ever those who are recovering from a stroke, can believe that I am doing, but I am doing it. It may not be pretty. It may not be the usual way to do it. It may not be the way they do it. BUT it works for me and I am DOing it.

Redefining Disability Project ~ Post #13

http://rosebfischer.com/2014/07/15/the-redefining-disability-awareness-challenge/

The question--



Describe a good day in relation to the ways your life is affected by disability.


Everyday is a good day whether it is affected by my disability or not. I heard the quote

"Any day above ground is a good one."

And, it's true. So I try to live my life with that appreciation for life. You can always find a examples during a day for picturing your day as bad. The challenge is finding the good and focusing on it.  This is especially hard when you have a life like mine as a stroke survivor and a caregiver for a terminally ill spouse. The list of bad days stuff that affects your life is a never ending, long list.

Having a good day is a relative term made up by moments. When I can measure more good items than bad, it's a good day. As I have said before, my disability affects every facet of my life. There's just no escaping it.

It's a good day...

• If I can make it to the bathroom before I pee my pants.
• If I can dice something without chasing it around the cutting board first.
• If I can sleep longer than four hours without my husband or myself being in pain.
• If I don't have to change a diaper.
• If my husband wakes up and smiles at me before complaining of pain.
• If the sun is shining.
• If my grandchildren visit.
• If my hair behaves when I just run my fingers through it.

As you can see, it's the little things that add up to make my good day. They aren't earth shattering, but it's enough to say I've had a good day and I am blessed.

Sunday Stroke Survival ~ Blocked Cog in the Works

After a stroke you may have some cognition problems. Something is keeping the cogs in your brain from turning...mainly dead brain cells. What in the Dickens does that mean for us?

cognition
[kog-nish-uh n]
noun
1. the act or process of knowing; perception.
2. the product of such a process; something thus known, perceived, etc.
3. knowledge.

(courtesy of dictionary.com)

Uh oh, there's that word again...perception. I've often talked about perceptions in this blog. How you perceive things. How others perceive things. The possibilities of perception. The negatives and the positives of perception.

Along time ago in a psychologist class, the professor emphasized the difference in perception with a simple test. He read the instructions of how to draw what he was picturing in his mind. You try it along with me and don't jump ahead.

1. Draw a horizontal line.

2. Draw a vertical line.

3. Draw another horizontal line.

4. Final step, draw another vertical line.

What did you come up with? 

Was it a square? If you did, like I did, you were in sync with his mind. You shared the same perception as he did. If you didn't you had a different perception of what was being asked. Let me tell you this...you are not alone.

After my stroke I had a hard time connecting the dots. In this image, what do you see without actually connecting the dots? The thought process or decision making time. Are the lines straight or curved. I saw a flower when it is actually a sun just by looking at the image. It's just my Abby Normal self kicking in when I see a puzzle like this is to guess what it is before I actually take pencil in hand. 

It proves that perceptions can be right or wrong. After a stroke, your thinking part of the brain is damaged. Your brain isn't connecting the dots in a normal way. The perception of who you are opposed to who you were is paramount in every stroke survivor's mind. But the cogs in your mind are not turning slowly and evenly, it more like lurching forward similar to someone driving a manual transmission automobile for the first time. Your brain lurches forward and then stops again and again. 

How many of you did this when you first trying to drive a stick shift? Don't be shy. Raise your hand. After a stroke your brain is like cogs of a machine missing some teeth. There's no way it can work properly.

But there is hope. With some mechanical adjustments (therapy and exercises), new teeth are welded into place. It will never be as good as the original or a new one, but it will work. Face it, it's hard to replace your brain, but new cells are growing all the time. Other parts of the brain take over for the damaged parts. Gradually your perception of who you are and what you can do changes into a positive focus, if you let it. Remember...

Nothing is impossible with determination.

Redefining Disability Project~ Post #2

This is question #2 from the list of the Redefining Disability Project.


2. If you have a medical diagnosis, do you see yourself as having a disability? Why or why not? If you don’t have one, how do you view the concept of disability or the people in your life who have them?

Up until two years ago, I was invisibly handicapped. I was disabled but able. Multiple back surgeries and joint replacements will do that. While I was technically disabled, I really didn't view myself disabled because I could pretty much do what I wanted within a set of limitations. I never bothered to try and file for Social Security Disability because I knew I would be able to adapt to somewhat normal movements despite my doctors trying to get me to file. Yes, it took years, but I proved them all wrong and did it within reason.

But, all that changed with my stroke. Now, my brace wasn't temporary so bones could heal. My brace and possibly a cane would be a visible part of my life forever. I progressed from wheelchair to walker to cane very quickly in a matter of months. My arm with the spasticity was visually nonfunctioning. My speech pattern had changed with the aphasia.

Now, I am visually disabled so I'm disabled. The fact that I can't use my right arm, can't move my wrist or fingers is not only a visible sign of being limited, but is limiting things I want and should be doing. This is different. Now I'm disabled for all the world to see and hear. No one asks why I have a handicapped license plate. Just like when I turned thirty and they stopped carding me to buy alcohol in a convenience store. 

It's a sad turn of events, for sure. A proverbial slap in the face. Not that I liked people asking why I was handicapped. There was a comfort in not being visually handicapped. I looked no different than anybody else. I could even deny the fact for myself for certain things because although limited I could function. No, I wasn't lifting several hundred pounds anymore, but only I knew that. Denial can be a beautiful thing.

If I get excited or giggly, you can't understand a word I say...or even be able to say a word. I'll just have one arm gesturing wildly. With only one hand gesturing, do you only understand half of what I'm saying? I've often wondered over the past two years. Yeah, I talk with my hands. It used to be sign language, but now it's just emphasizing everything I say, but that's how this bad habit got started.  

To prove my use of visual impact of my speech, look how many graphics I use in my blogs instead of others. I still try and use hand gestures because my husband is legally deaf. He reads lips are facial features to understand his 95% loss of actual hearing what is being said to him. I could teach him sign language, but he's a stubborn Irish man and clings to his 5% and is resistant to learning it. He turned 66 last Saturday. I pick the fights I can win.

Why do I fight the term disabled? Doesn't everyone want to be normal or viewed as normal? Is there a stigma attached to being classified as disabled? Are there preconceived notions attached? Are we second class or even third class citizens because of being disabled?

Yep, it's a matter of perception. The world touts the "beautiful" people. But true beauty is what really counts and it's inside of all of us. Yes, even me. It isn't like battling cancer. We didn't die or lived to be touted as heroes. We wear outward scars of our battles as we struggle to find our new normal. We seem somehow lacking to those who view us on a daily basis. We are missing limbs, eyesight, mobility, and can't be everything for everyone else. We have an innate need to be needed and useful part of society too. Instead of being looked down on, or pitied, or scorned.

I have found that beauty begins within. You need to recognize it in yourself for others to see it. Find your talents. Even if you can no longer do this or that. You still are a valuable commodity. You still have something to offer and bring to the table with the "norms." Stand up, even figuratively, you have fought harder than any of them to get where you are or still be where you are at. Disabled is just a word used to describe us. I prefer the words "victorious survivor."

Nothing is impossible with determination.