Facing the Cost of Aphasia

Alice stroking Josh, her Doylestown cat, in the summer of 2012.  When she is happy, EVERYBODY'S HAPPY.
Alice stroking Josh, her Doylestown cat, in the summer of 2012. When she is happy, EVERYBODY’S HAPPY.

Alice is bored, feeling trapped by her speech predicament.  On Wednesday, April 29th, she once again asserted her penchant for free will by driving off to window-shop at a strip mall loaded with box stores, but this is not what her heart ultimately desires.

My partner wants to go back to work.  Her alpha-female mind is as sharp as ever, having used my communication skills to fend off well-meaning family members who want to dote on her.  Unwittingly, their concern would have complicated Alice’s ambitious plans for recovery, and this lady stands for no interference.  As just one example, she abhors my nagging reminders to take her medication.

Medical bills are piling up for the professional care received, so both of us realize it’s time to pay the piper.  Although Alice doesn’t want me to work outside our abode so I can focus on writing a book and this blog (in addition to looking after her), it’s time to face hard choices.  We are heading for perilous times unless we take action.

Two nights ago, Alice consented to have me find work.  Preferably, I can find freelance writing assignments and telecommute.  But if not, I might have to leave Alice alone for stretches of time so I can drive for Uber, or a similar car service, because “beggars can’t be choosers.”

Summarizing our plight for anyone new to this blog, on Wednesday, March 11th, my partner endured a stroke at home while I attended a writers’ conference.  That night, our plans for the future suffered a big hit, and we are making the best of it.

Alice continues her agonizingly slow – but sure – recovery.  Two nights ago in bed after I prompted her to count to 10, she counted aloud into the mid-30s, proving her stubbornness.  At other times, though, she becomes stuck on a word, and that word keeps repeating itself over and over again as if it had a life of its own.  When that happens, she must stop speaking temporarily and take a deep breath.

An amusing example occurred the other night.  Alice tried to utter a name, but what came out was “Dr. F*ck.”  She tried to communicate her thought again, but the same professional title followed by a four-letter expletive came out.  Feigning naiveté, I questioned the accuracy of what she said, and we both laughed.  After all, speech aphasia is not characterized by a nervous tic.

But humor only goes so far.  Alice will not subject an employer to the hint of a speech impediment.  She always has fulfilled work duties professionally, even to the point of working through lunch breaks multiple times.

To reemerge into the diaper-changing world of infant care, she confronts her computer screen daily with websites offering aphasia exercises.  Alice wants me to stay home; she is consumed about my taking unnecessary risks.

That’s commendable, but these days, regardless of our senior status, we have little choice.  We have overcome serious hurdles to relocate in Oregon, including seeing our possessions held hostage, so we must bravely meet the challenges of our future together.

For the time being, I will continue to keep this blog going, reporting on the charms of our adopted environment.  Both of us agree we shall not surrender to aphasia.  There are too many well-wishers urging us to keep plowing ahead.

Once again, we say to ourselves, “Onward and upward!”

6 thoughts on “Facing the Cost of Aphasia”

  1. hugs to both of you! Keep on keeping on! Prayers and thoughts with you for continued success in Alice’s recovery!

  2. Go get ’em Alice!! You guys are fighting the good fight. Toil forever forward. Dad was surprised to hear that I suffer from dysphasia. It’s at its worst when I am under pressure to speak, like standing at checkout and being asked “paper or plastic?” I stutter and search for an answer and try to be witty while tripping over words and phrases. Ugh! I like to think of myself as well-read and above average in most situations, but other days the only adjective I can get out is “beautiful.” How many times can you repeat “beautiful” in one paragraph trying to describe my grandbabies? Too many times. Frustrating to say the least. It never hurts to ask doctors, therapists and hospitals if they’re willing to write off a portion or apply indigent care funds to help lessen the bill. Most hospitals and therapy centers within hospitals are required to “write off” a specific amount annually. Perhaps these medical bills for Alice could be within those guidelines. Ask for help. Also connect to: http://www.stroke.org and http://www.strokeassociation.org and Americanstroke.org.
    These organizations may also have funds to help with the medical costs of therapy and recovery.

  3. I repeat my monk’s advice to me that changed my life during a challenge time:

    “You wake up in morning. You feel first breath. You say prayer of gratitude. Life itself enough. Everything else icing on cake.

    You have two choice:

    Be happy

    No be happy.

    Why you choose no be happy? You crazy?”

  4. My prayer is for you two to find the decisions that bring the most healing, the most peace, with a minimum of risk. It is a big time for you two. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

  5. It is good to see that Alice is progressing, it will take time.
    Have you checked into any State-run programs that may help until you can get on your feet?

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