this piece is in the book latina outsiders edited by grisel acosta: There is before the stroke and after the stroke on thankstaking 2012. I lost my ability to focus on the screen of my phone in the cab en route to the emergency room . once there I couldn’t move my legs. I couldn’t stand. Fortunately, I wasn’t paralyzed, but my balance was way off. I no longer dreamed, or actually, I no longer recalled what I dreamed. That was so weird. i am still getting adjusted to a new reality. I really rely on my sister. I don’t know when I became aware of the polenysian word mana meaning soul. But it’s a very intriguing concept. An abbreviation of the Spanish word for sister, hermana, could be ‘mana- a soul sister in this life-a sister resister. Roles my ‘mana and i don’t actually share or exchange: wife and mother and aunt. All three roles are held by a chicana. All three of them are held by a Latina. Neither of us- me or my hermana- are immigrant. We are u.s.america born. We are resisters if u.s.a. populism. When a human breaks an arm or leg, she or he heals wearing a cast. Their broken limb’s use is hampered in what it usually does effortlessly. The stroke hampered my brain. I can’t handle spicy food virtually at all. Most Cheetos are perfectly fine. Things that were once easy like walking and sleeping late are hard- a chore. My best thoughts are in the bathroom-not in a classroom, not in an office, not at a meeting, but on the commode. I am engaged in no multi-tasking at all- no reading on hardcopy , no reading of anything, no books, no newspapers, no magazines, no technology, no smart phone, nothing- a single, solo-task task only , one necessary for health, one necessary for existence-excretion, occurring only with my thoughts to absorb me-absolute concentration, absolute focus. Multi-tasking had been what had enabled me to do much of everything. Read,study,write,draw,paint or sew while watching television, while listening to music. I could tune out distraction so easily. Now tuning out made tuning in very hard.-virtually impossible. I have to rewind movies. Once a speed reader, I take forever to get through books, even ones I like. I read about someone who went into a coma heterosexual and came out of it homosexual. What I know for sure is that I went into my coma as nova and I came out of it as nova but spicier- with a kick, although my palate had become blander, my brain is spicier. Fortunately, I have most of my life’s memories. And truly I have done a lot. Now that I need wheelchair accessibility, I realize how much I didn’t really consider it. I also see that I often did without. But I managed to do a lot with whatever I had. That reality is still there. So much is damaged and not working as how I was accustomed, and had become used to. My physical ability still exists, but it is damaged. My processing ability exists but it is damaged. My voice still exists but it is damaged. My creativity still exists but it is different. My apartment bed room in harlem, nyc, is akin to my freshman locker in high school in corpus Christi, texas. It’s packed with books, pictures, hope, dreams for a just America that someday will exist, despite the people who block its emergence. I suffered a massive stroke 6 years ago. It feels like 60 years ago.