A Heart is a Heart is a Heart

1 Oct

 

No, really.  It is.  I promise.

I had to draw a picture to make the neurosurgeon believe me.  Yes, when I say that I see a “coeur” floating in front of my right eye, I really do mean a “heart”.  I’m halfway decent at French, and brain surgery hasn’t affected my capacity for putting together words in a way that makes sense.  (Although you’d think that if I were seeing things, I’d at least be able to see them right side up.  The heart was sideways.  Sometimes pink, sometimes other colors.)

I suppose it’s natural that they would doubt me – after all, when I was a study-abroad student in France several years previously, none of the girls who lived in my dorm believed me when I told them that a flock of ducks had landed in our back courtyard.  “You mean geese,” they said.  “No,” I replied, “I mean ducks.  There is a flock of cols-verts in the back courtyard.”  That finally convinced them, in addition to astonishing them that I knew the French word for “mallard”.

I suppose it’s also natural that they would think that I was confusing words with one another – after all, many brain surgery patients end up with some degree of aphasia.

The neurosurgeon made me draw a picture for him before he’d believe me.  I drew the heart sideways, just as I’d described it to him.  “Oh!  She really does see a heart!” he exclaimed to the nurses when he saw the drawing.

No kidding.

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