I saw a special on television not long ago about a young painter in California (where else?) who'd had a stroke. She was a pretty good painter before the stroke, but not terrific; she desperately wanted to be. She was spending her life very focused on trying to get better.
After the stroke, she was quite impaired: Her speech was affected, her gait, her coordination. Additionally--somehow--she had become a fantastic painter overnight. It was more than just a new quirkiness in brush handling or "style." Her work had achieved another level of accomplishment altogether.
I can tell you as I sit here that this would not have been my outcome. Following a stroke, I would be forever in a wheelchair without a clue as to my name, let alone what painting is.
I guess we should be grateful for whatever it is we have.
PW
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