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.