And, you said, “What? I am NOT an angel.”
“But, you are!”
“No,” you said, unsure of what I’m saying to you.
“Look at the wings!” I said.
“What do you mean by ‘wings’?” you said, taking backwards steps.
“Those wings that are growing from upper back,” I said gesturing to your feathery wings.
“You are nuts!” you screamed, “Are you taking your anti-psycho pills?!”
“But,” I insist, “Look behind you!”
You glanced over your shoulders and—there are your angelic white wings.
Your brain begin to cognitively accept your wings. And, then, you stuttered, “Those are not my wings.” You make up things, for example, “My backpack.” “Or, a delusion from the morphine the nurses gave me!” and, “blank blank blank!!!”
This is what is it to be me, post-stroke in my two years.
I had no right-side of my body. I could see my right-leg and right-arm. But, I blanked my hands, thumbs, fingers, ankle, arch, heel & toes in my motor system of my brain. They didn’t registered in my mind’s physical map of my body.
When I close my eyes, I still ‘feel’ my right hand and my right foot in the wrong place. Say, I’m comfortable lying in my bed. And, the lights are out. My mind’s physical map might place my right hand in my chest. Whereas, my right hand is by my side….