Jenny
I'm sitting at the bar with Uncle Artair and we're playing the children's board game, Memory. Uncle Artair is working on identifying common pictures with me. Every time I turn a picture over, I have to try to verbalize its name.
I've never felt so exhausted in my life. Even though I'm not doing anything physical, I feel completely drained. I never realized just how tired I could get just by trying to talk. The frustration level I feel with myself and my brain is beyond comprehensible.
Aphasia is like being trapped in your own mind. I have all of these words inside my head, but I can't reach them. They're there, but when I try to speak it's like they've been locked away in a vault I can't access.
Uncle Artair shows me the picture of a flower I recognize but can't name. I've seen it a hundred times in my grandmother's yard, growing next to our cabin. You have to be careful of its thorns. Grandmom grows pink, red, even yellow ones, but for the life of me, its name won't come out of my mouth. My brain's holding it hostage. I'm trying so hard to get it out. All of a sudden I blurt, "rain!"
"No," I stammer. "Robinia."
Uncle Artair shakes his head. "You almost got it, Jenny. You're close. Keep trying," he encourages gently.
"Ro...Ro...Robe!"
Dammit! It's not a Robe. I know exactly what it is. I have the concept of it in my head, but I cannot get it out.
Uncle Artair puts his hand on top of mine.
"It's ok, Jenny. You're doing really well," he says as I shake my head in frustration.
"Not...good. I...not...right answer. Wrong. I can't...I...I can't. Not...right."
"Jenny, you're trying. You're working so hard. Your mind's doing its best to help. The flower is a rose. You've got this. It's just harder now. Your mind is trying, though. You're doing circumlocution, like we talked about. Your brain is circling its way around all the words trying to find the one it wants to use." He squeezes my hand reassuringly before continuing.
"That picture was a rose. Your brain was trying to work that out. It didn't give you the word rose, but it did give you words that were similar in some way; rain, Robinia, robe. Robe was the closest one. It starts out sounding just like Rose. Ro-robe. Ro-rose. See?" He asks before removing his hand to toss it up while talking.
"With Aphasia, your mind sometimes tries to help you by giving you something at least close to the word you are looking for. You're doing ok. We can do this. I can help you. We just have to keep at it. Come on. Let's try this again."
I sniffle and try to let Uncle Artair's words of comfort sink in. I know he's right. But, I'm trying so hard, and it's so damn frustrating. All these words I used to know so well, are so hard to get to. I feel like I'm trapped inside my head just wanting to speak and I can't. I've lost a part of myself and I don't know if I'll ever get that back. I wipe my nose with my hand and Uncle Artair gives me a tissue.
"Ok, Jenny, come on," he says. "Let's try again". He holds up a picture of Grams and I give him a weak smile. He's going easy on me this time. I know this one.
"Gr...Gr...Gra...Grams!" I stammer, smiling this time.
Uncle Artair squeezes my hand one final time and we continue on.
______________________
Photography Copyright 2018 A. E. F.
Here is a short video about Aphasia that I found on YouTube in case you're interested in learning more.
Wortman-Jutt, S. (2016). How Aphasia Affects the Brain. Aphasia: The Disorder that Makes You Lose Your Works. TED-Ed. Web
Search 5 June 2021. Website: https://youtu.be/-GsVhbmecJA
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There Are No Words
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