Adjusting

One day last week when I was in a hurry to get to my bus on time, I grabbed the first book I saw with an interesting cover, skimming the blurb on the dust jacket to make sure it was fiction. (Yes, I judge books by the cover. So do you.) This book turned out to be LEFT Neglected by Lisa Genova, a story about a woman who develops left neglect after being in a car crash.

Left neglect is a rather fascinating disorder. When I read the dust jacket properly after leaving the house, I was actually a bit excited to realize it played a major role in the story. Basically, left neglect is your brain neglecting the left side, like you forget it's there. Everything physically works. You can see everything in front of you, but you aren't aware of anything to the left. Your limbs send sensation information. But your brain just ignores all that information. You can't consciously move your left arm or left leg, because your brain won't send them signals.

Anyway, when this lady's insurance won't pay for any more time in the rehabilitation center, she goes home. But while she was gone, her family made some changes. Because she didn't process what she saw on the left side, and she couldn't always move her left leg when walking or use her left arm to catch her, tripping became a real issue. So all the area rugs were removed from the house. Railings and grab bars were installed on the stairs and in the shower. They put brightly colored tape on the left sides of the door-frames in an attempt to get her attention, so she'd know they were there. And her mother moved in with them to help out. There were other changes, too, but you get the idea.

So I wondered what it would be like to come home and realize that your family has rearranged their home or their lives for you. Then I realized that my own family did to a certain extent when I was diagnosed with diabetes years ago. But at the time, I was just a little kid and didn't think much about how other people were affected, and now, everything just feels normal.

I also wondered how it would be to rearrange your home or life to accommodate new limitations for a loved one.

In my English class when I was a senior in high school, we once got into an argument about who had it harder during war - the boys, who were out fighting, or the girls at home, not knowing whether their men were alive or dead and not able to do anything about it. Well, while reading this book, I started wondering whether it would be harder to be the person who is living with the injuries and the knowledge of what her family is sacrificing for her or to be the family making the sacrifices and watching their daughter, wife, or mother suffer. Upon realizing that the men at war are actually seeing their friends die, I decided they have it harder. But I still don't know about this scenario.

Re-Framing

They're at it again. The Valentine haters, I mean. I'm not surprised; they make their fuss every year. I've written a little about my feelings about Valentine's Day before, here and here, and I thought I didn't have anything more to say. But it turns out I was wrong.

I recently read  an article online that said, "Valentine's Day is a warm, happy, romantic, charming day for nearly everyone. Everyone except people who are divorced, widowed, unhappily married, never married, fighting with their significant other, working overtime, struggling with morning sickness, in the hospital, in Afghanistan, on a business trip or can't afford a present. In other words, everyone except nearly everyone."

This wasn't really a Valentine's Day bash. It's more about handling loss. You can read it here if you want. But I didn't care much for her opening.

Sure, Valentine's Day is legitimately hard for a lot of people. I'm thinking mainly of those who are missing their loved one - the same people who have a legitimately hard time at any other holiday. But you don't hear so much about "Christmas/Easter/Thanksgiving is a happy day for everyone except nearly everyone."

The summer of 1999 I got a bit depressed at my grandpa's annual 24th of July party. It just wasn't the same as previous years, somehow. Well, my aunt talked to me then about how when you get older, a lot of holidays change, and you need to find a meaning and a way of looking at them that works for you. And that's the way it goes. Santa and presents lose their magic? Re-frame how you look at Christmas. Think of the joy of giving, think of baby Jesus.

Well, I think some people really should re-frame how they look at Valentine's Day. It doesn't have to be about the romance. It definitely doesn't have to be about gifts and money. What works for me is to see it as a reminder of all the people I love - especially my friends. Maybe not everybody can see it exactly that way. But the holiday is going nowhere. And I think being happy will come easier if they find some new meaning than if they continue seeing it as a couple's day.