RSLancastr
www.StopSylvia.com
In the earlier thread "Where is RSL?", I listed several abilities and character traits which I had always considered integral parts of "who I am", but which the stroke had either destroyed or severely reduced. Well, add another loss to the list:
My Ability to Read
I've always been a Reader. Here are some highlights of my journey as such:
AT HOME
When I was still a toddler, my two older sisters (Beeg Seestor and Not-So-Beeg Seestor) loved to play School. they were the teachers, I was the lowly student. They taught me to read, and I ate it up.
PRESCHOOL
When I went to pre-school, one of the teachers was very interested in the new/revival of the concept of teaching reading via phonics (this was the early 1960s), and, finding that I had already started reading, chose me as her "guinea pig" to try teaching this way. this led to my reading skills improving, whereas most of the other kids in the class could not read at all.
KINDERGARTEN
On my first day of kindergarten, as each child was introduced to the teacher by their parent, one of the questions asked as part of assessing the child's abilities was "what book(s) is he/she reading?" most of the other children were either not reading at all, or were reading "Dick and Jane"-type books. When the teacher asked my mom what I liked to read, she replied "The Reader's Digest." The teacher was, well, quite skeptical of this, and my mother demanded that the teacher go get a copy of the Digest from the teacher's lounge. The teacher did so, and upon returning to the class, handed me the magazine, opened to the article she wanted me to attempt to read.
Although I did not know the meaning of all of the words, I was still able to sound them out pretty well, which totally surprised the teacher. My mother is still proud and rather smug about this incident, almost 50 years later.
2ND GRADE
After kindergarten, I was tested (in all subjects) to see if I was ready for first grade. After the test, my parents were advised to place me directly into the third grade, as I already knew much of what would be taught in first and second grade. My father was all for this, but my mother thought it would not be good for me to suddenly be with kids so far ahead of me physically. my parents compromised, and I skipped only the first grade. This is not something I would recommend to parents. there is a big difference, physically, between kids of these ages, and, for me, suddenly being mixed in with these "big kids" was the beginning of years of being the last kid picked to play any sport, and a lifetime of hating just about all sports. I think that skipping a grade at this age can only work well if the parents (and teachers) work carefully to compensate for this. Back to reading: the school had no library, but, a couple of times each month, our class got to visit the bookmobile. I was enthralled to see so many books in one place. On my first such visit, the driver tried to keep me in the area where books for second graders were kept, so I had to bring a note from home giving me permission to check out books from the sections for older kids. I also got special permission to check out more than one book at a time, starting me on a life of voratious reading. I remember reading Treasure Island, Kidnapped!, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and many other such books during this time.
The next milestone I recall was in
4TH GRADE
One day I was instructed to go to the school office, where I was given an extended IQ and reading test. After grading the test, the person administering the test told me that I was reading at second-year college level! I still remember being surprised (and disappointed) that people some ten years older than me were not expected to read any better than I was! And, over the next ten years, I was never challenged to read at a level any higher than that which I had acheived by the fourth grade.
HIGH SCHOOL
In English class my sophomore year of high school, we had an assignment to read the novel Silas Marner, and to read a second book of our own choosing, then write a report comparing and contrasting the two. The "book" I chose was Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy. I had wanted to read it for some time, so being able to do so as part of a class assignment was an opportunity not to be missed. Others in the class thought that I was crazy to voluntarily read three large books. One of them had chosen a comic book. Another, the script to an episode of a sitcom.
After reading both Marner and Rings, I was initially at a loss to find parallels between the works, and so started my report with the following sentence:
"At first glance, Silas Marner and The Lord of the Rings appear to have about as much in common as a bull moose and a relief map of North America."
That sentence sat alone atop a sheet of paper in my typewriter (remember those?) until the parallel finally struck me: the titular character in Silas Marner was a miser whose life had been corrupted by his desire for gold. Frodo, the central character in Rings, had been corrupted by The Ring, also made of gold.
Both characters found redemption through selfless acts: Marner through his caring for an orphaned child, Frodo through his key role in the quest to destroy The Ring.
I received an "A" for the report, which the teacher read aloud to the class as an example of what he was looking for in the assignment.
LATER
Books have continued to be a cornerstone of my life. I got involved with both of the women I've married partly because they shared my love of books and reading. Some of my most treasured memories with my children (and treasured by them as well, I hope) are the bedtimes when I would read to them from what they called "chapter books". sometimes these were books written for children, such as Roald Dahl's "The BFG", "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and others. Other times we would read more adult fare, such as Ender's Game, The Hobbit, Tailchaser's Song and Jurassic Park. There were times when I had to edit out certain passages "on the fly", such as a point in Jurassic Park where some small dinosaurs sneak into a home and eat a baby in its crib, but for the most part, I wisely chose books where this was not needed. Recently I bought copies of some of these books and sent them as gifts to my oldest daughter, who is expecting a baby any day now. In a note enclosed in one of the books, I asked her to please pass on the Lancaster love of reading.
RECENTLY
I include all of the above, which I realize contains an inordinate amount of bragging, to give you a feel for just how large a role reading has played in my life, so you can better appreciate how devestating it is to me that the stroke has made reading difficult, at times impossible for me.
A few months after the stroke, a speech therapist asked me to read aloud from a magazine while she followed along using another copy of the magazine. There were times where there was obviously a word or two missing from a sentence, and other times when a word or two would be unreadable, as they appeared to be way out of focus. After I read several paragraphs, the therapist informed me that I was suffering from "left side neglect." this is something which often happens to people who, like me, suffer a right-brain stroke. With left-side neglect, a person sometimes ignores, or can't see, objects to their left. After hearing this, I looked at the magazine again, and it became clear to me that all of the words I thought were out-of-focus (or missing entirely) were close to the left side of the page.
There were also times after the stroke where, for example, I would be brought a breakfast tray in bed. partway through the meal, I would look for something (a salt shaker, my orange juice, etc) which I had noticed on the tray earlier, but now could not find it. Once I learned about "left-side neglect", whenever something mysteriously vanished from my tray, I would search for it more intently on the left side of the tray, and, sure enough, there it would be.
NOW
Now, a year or so after learning about left-side neglect, it no lnger seems to happen. either that section of the brain has healed, or I have learned to automatically compensate for it.
Left-side neglect aside (so to speak), whenever I tried to read something in the hospital, I could only concentrate on it for a page or so, then my mind wuld wander, and I would find myself having to read a paragraph several times before I would get the gist of it. I would end up tossing the book aside after reading a page at most. This from a person who, pre-stroke, would often read an entire book in one or two sittings.
After coming home, I've tried reading a few times, but it quickly became obvious that I needed a new prescription for my glasses. I finally got new glasses a few days ago, and, just yesrerday, I sat down with a new book and gave it a go. There are now no "missing" words, but there are still ones way out of focus, and they are not limited to the left side of the page. These occur every two or three sentences. I cannot read an entire page without getting so frustrated (and disgusted with myself) that I have to put the book down.
Part of this is from the stroke, and part is just because I am 51 years old, and my eyes need more light and larger print than before.
So, this has been a rather long-winded (even for me) way of saying that yet another important part of my self-image has taken a hit. Susan tells me that, given time and practice, this will improve, as will many of my new deficits.
I hope so because, in the meantime, it hurts.
My Ability to Read
I've always been a Reader. Here are some highlights of my journey as such:
AT HOME
When I was still a toddler, my two older sisters (Beeg Seestor and Not-So-Beeg Seestor) loved to play School. they were the teachers, I was the lowly student. They taught me to read, and I ate it up.
PRESCHOOL
When I went to pre-school, one of the teachers was very interested in the new/revival of the concept of teaching reading via phonics (this was the early 1960s), and, finding that I had already started reading, chose me as her "guinea pig" to try teaching this way. this led to my reading skills improving, whereas most of the other kids in the class could not read at all.
KINDERGARTEN
On my first day of kindergarten, as each child was introduced to the teacher by their parent, one of the questions asked as part of assessing the child's abilities was "what book(s) is he/she reading?" most of the other children were either not reading at all, or were reading "Dick and Jane"-type books. When the teacher asked my mom what I liked to read, she replied "The Reader's Digest." The teacher was, well, quite skeptical of this, and my mother demanded that the teacher go get a copy of the Digest from the teacher's lounge. The teacher did so, and upon returning to the class, handed me the magazine, opened to the article she wanted me to attempt to read.
Although I did not know the meaning of all of the words, I was still able to sound them out pretty well, which totally surprised the teacher. My mother is still proud and rather smug about this incident, almost 50 years later.
2ND GRADE
After kindergarten, I was tested (in all subjects) to see if I was ready for first grade. After the test, my parents were advised to place me directly into the third grade, as I already knew much of what would be taught in first and second grade. My father was all for this, but my mother thought it would not be good for me to suddenly be with kids so far ahead of me physically. my parents compromised, and I skipped only the first grade. This is not something I would recommend to parents. there is a big difference, physically, between kids of these ages, and, for me, suddenly being mixed in with these "big kids" was the beginning of years of being the last kid picked to play any sport, and a lifetime of hating just about all sports. I think that skipping a grade at this age can only work well if the parents (and teachers) work carefully to compensate for this. Back to reading: the school had no library, but, a couple of times each month, our class got to visit the bookmobile. I was enthralled to see so many books in one place. On my first such visit, the driver tried to keep me in the area where books for second graders were kept, so I had to bring a note from home giving me permission to check out books from the sections for older kids. I also got special permission to check out more than one book at a time, starting me on a life of voratious reading. I remember reading Treasure Island, Kidnapped!, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and many other such books during this time.
The next milestone I recall was in
4TH GRADE
One day I was instructed to go to the school office, where I was given an extended IQ and reading test. After grading the test, the person administering the test told me that I was reading at second-year college level! I still remember being surprised (and disappointed) that people some ten years older than me were not expected to read any better than I was! And, over the next ten years, I was never challenged to read at a level any higher than that which I had acheived by the fourth grade.
HIGH SCHOOL
In English class my sophomore year of high school, we had an assignment to read the novel Silas Marner, and to read a second book of our own choosing, then write a report comparing and contrasting the two. The "book" I chose was Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy. I had wanted to read it for some time, so being able to do so as part of a class assignment was an opportunity not to be missed. Others in the class thought that I was crazy to voluntarily read three large books. One of them had chosen a comic book. Another, the script to an episode of a sitcom.
After reading both Marner and Rings, I was initially at a loss to find parallels between the works, and so started my report with the following sentence:
"At first glance, Silas Marner and The Lord of the Rings appear to have about as much in common as a bull moose and a relief map of North America."
That sentence sat alone atop a sheet of paper in my typewriter (remember those?) until the parallel finally struck me: the titular character in Silas Marner was a miser whose life had been corrupted by his desire for gold. Frodo, the central character in Rings, had been corrupted by The Ring, also made of gold.
Both characters found redemption through selfless acts: Marner through his caring for an orphaned child, Frodo through his key role in the quest to destroy The Ring.
I received an "A" for the report, which the teacher read aloud to the class as an example of what he was looking for in the assignment.
LATER
Books have continued to be a cornerstone of my life. I got involved with both of the women I've married partly because they shared my love of books and reading. Some of my most treasured memories with my children (and treasured by them as well, I hope) are the bedtimes when I would read to them from what they called "chapter books". sometimes these were books written for children, such as Roald Dahl's "The BFG", "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and others. Other times we would read more adult fare, such as Ender's Game, The Hobbit, Tailchaser's Song and Jurassic Park. There were times when I had to edit out certain passages "on the fly", such as a point in Jurassic Park where some small dinosaurs sneak into a home and eat a baby in its crib, but for the most part, I wisely chose books where this was not needed. Recently I bought copies of some of these books and sent them as gifts to my oldest daughter, who is expecting a baby any day now. In a note enclosed in one of the books, I asked her to please pass on the Lancaster love of reading.
RECENTLY
I include all of the above, which I realize contains an inordinate amount of bragging, to give you a feel for just how large a role reading has played in my life, so you can better appreciate how devestating it is to me that the stroke has made reading difficult, at times impossible for me.
A few months after the stroke, a speech therapist asked me to read aloud from a magazine while she followed along using another copy of the magazine. There were times where there was obviously a word or two missing from a sentence, and other times when a word or two would be unreadable, as they appeared to be way out of focus. After I read several paragraphs, the therapist informed me that I was suffering from "left side neglect." this is something which often happens to people who, like me, suffer a right-brain stroke. With left-side neglect, a person sometimes ignores, or can't see, objects to their left. After hearing this, I looked at the magazine again, and it became clear to me that all of the words I thought were out-of-focus (or missing entirely) were close to the left side of the page.
There were also times after the stroke where, for example, I would be brought a breakfast tray in bed. partway through the meal, I would look for something (a salt shaker, my orange juice, etc) which I had noticed on the tray earlier, but now could not find it. Once I learned about "left-side neglect", whenever something mysteriously vanished from my tray, I would search for it more intently on the left side of the tray, and, sure enough, there it would be.
NOW
Now, a year or so after learning about left-side neglect, it no lnger seems to happen. either that section of the brain has healed, or I have learned to automatically compensate for it.
Left-side neglect aside (so to speak), whenever I tried to read something in the hospital, I could only concentrate on it for a page or so, then my mind wuld wander, and I would find myself having to read a paragraph several times before I would get the gist of it. I would end up tossing the book aside after reading a page at most. This from a person who, pre-stroke, would often read an entire book in one or two sittings.
After coming home, I've tried reading a few times, but it quickly became obvious that I needed a new prescription for my glasses. I finally got new glasses a few days ago, and, just yesrerday, I sat down with a new book and gave it a go. There are now no "missing" words, but there are still ones way out of focus, and they are not limited to the left side of the page. These occur every two or three sentences. I cannot read an entire page without getting so frustrated (and disgusted with myself) that I have to put the book down.
Part of this is from the stroke, and part is just because I am 51 years old, and my eyes need more light and larger print than before.
So, this has been a rather long-winded (even for me) way of saying that yet another important part of my self-image has taken a hit. Susan tells me that, given time and practice, this will improve, as will many of my new deficits.
I hope so because, in the meantime, it hurts.
Never. 
Next time we'll have to have you wearing the Stop Sylvia T-shirt too!
)
