The Daily Battle to Connect with Others

I've been visiting my Mom for the last couple of days, watching her do a cognitive dance with the world around her and try to match her thoughts with what she sees. Then she feeds the information back - through speech - and watches for a reaction.  She looks for facial expressions, cues that she is getting through.

It's something we do every day, without thinking. But because Mom is fighting her way back from a stroke, her efforts at communication are very deliberate. She knows her slightly twisted face doesn't reinforce her comments the way it normally would. She knows she sometimes isn't connecting with people, so she tries another tack.

It's hard to watch someone who has always been able to talk without effort struggle so much. But I also admire her for working so hard, without giving up.

"I'm working on my sense of humour," she said to me yesterday. "Sometimes I can't tell if I'm getting through to people. If I tell a joke, and they laugh, I know I'm getting through."

I have never heard such a straightforward rationale for using humour to make a connection with the people around you. If people are frowning, it could be because they are concentrating, or because they don't agree with you, or they don't understand you, or they are day dreaming. Maybe they have indigestion. If they are laughing with you, at least you know they get the gist of what you're trying to get across to them.

A stroke is no laughing matter. She is in pain a lot of the time, and sometimes she gets disoriented when she's talking about her day. That may get better as her brain recovers from the shock. Or she may always have to deal with a bit of fuzziness around the edges.

But with a cheerful attitude that belies the effort it takes, my mother fights each day to stay connected. When she gets a big smile from the person she's with, she knows it was worth trying.

To everyone who visits, to all the caregivers who work with her daily, and to the friends and family members who have gone out of their way to help normalize things for a woman whose life was torn apart by a blood clot, I offer my sincere thanks.

All of the effort and kindness means a great deal to her, and to my sisters and me.

Comments

[Octavio Isaac Rojas Orduña]

Let her know that you still have a lifeful image of her.

People in pain don't like to receive just sympathy's face but a positive, open face.

Best regards,

[Eric E]

Thanks for the suggestion, Octavio. I've always been fairly reserved, so maybe I should practice my connecting skills, too.