Take a second and think about what you wanted to be when you were a kid. Think about your favorite memory from your childhood. Now think about how you felt the first time you heard/saw/tasted something. And now imagine you can't remember any of that. Not how you decided what you wanted to be when you grew up, not an accurate recollection of the childhood moments that shaped you, no memory at all of the first time you saw some of your favorite movies. Welcome to my world. I've touched briefly before on the lingering effects of the car accident that left me with a traumatic brain injury (or TBI). But I've never gone into detail because...well, honestly because I just wanted to forget it ever happened. I wanted to be "normal". I desperately wanted that. And to most people, I come off that way. Everyone I know has said at some point or another that if they didn't know my history, they wouldn't be able to tell anything was amiss in my brain. And hearing that is a bit of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I'm glad that people can't tell and treat me like they would anyone else. On the other hand, it can be cause for confusion when my reactions and questions are not what one would expect of a normal person. I've learned this the hard way and it hit home the other night during an argument with someone close to me. I always complain that she never listens and she always complains that I never communicate. She got upset and started venting and would stop every now and then to ask me a question. I never could answer it. When I changed my answer to the question later on in the convo, things got even more heated and it occurred to me that a large part of our complaints probably have to do with my head being fucked up. I didn't actually believe that until today though when I did a post-mortem on everything. I decided to open up and talk about the injury and the issues its left me with. And it felt good. And I think she understood me better. But who knows. TBI is tricky, as are the after effects of it. Because they're not really "after effects" since you never get over it.
When referring to my TBI, I usually say something along the lines of having 'bumped my head', which is what I actually did. Except I bumped it a little harder than most. Well, that and the fact that I cracked it open. The shortened, less boring version of what happened is that my head was shaken so violently in the accident that my brain rattled around in my skull. It was then further rattled around when my head hit the door of the car, causing bleeding that they had to operate to stop. Time is of the essence when dealing with bleeding on the brain and I got in just under the gun, although it took two tries. They thought they'd drained it all the first time but my condition did not stabilize so I was rushed into surgery a second time. I came dangerously close to not surviving that surgery. I technically "died" twice (which means the third time likely will be the charm for me in this particular area) but was fortunately shocked back to life. Then it was a waiting game. I'm told there were a daily battery of tests to try and gauge what my brain function was and get a reasonable expectation of what my prognosis would be when I woke up. Usually the tests brought more good news than bad but occasionally there were some causes for concern. Doctors told my family to be cautiously optimistic. I finally woke up two weeks after the accident and in a state of total confusion. At the time, my last memory was one from almost two months before the accident which meant I had no clue about the loss of my girlfriend or my own plight. Immediately after I woke up the doctors launched into some more tests and I remember being all kinda annoyed about it. I got so agitated that they knocked me out again for a few hours. At some point it was explained to me that the right side of my brain had taken a beating, injuring the temporal and frontal lobes. The prognosis was muddy; I might regain memories, I might not, I might fully recover, but most likely there would always be lingering effects. I had trouble lifting my left arm and moving my left leg because the right side of the brain controls the left side of your body. My emotional state was out of control and my personality had changed in some ways. I had major problems communicating thanks to the double whammy of temporal and frontal lobe damage (one controls expression, the other one comprehension). Mentally, I was not sharp. It took me a considerable amount of time to come up with a word I wanted to use and when I couldn't think of the word (which was often), I got upset. I had terrible headaches (think a migraine times a billion) and could not pay attention worth a damn. But I also had no concept of what I could and couldn't do so I would reach for something or try to haul my dainty ass out of bed without realizing I wasn't able to do it. Every movement, every thought, every feeling had been readjusted without my consent. Slowly, the recovery began. First, we worked on walking and controlling my left arm. Then controlling my moods and extending my attention span, while also re-learning words and how to solve problems effectively and without getting upset. It was a very long, very frustrating road. But I had nothing but time since the person I loved was gone. Somehow I felt like if I could shake off all this accident crap and get around to being better, then things would be how they were before. It was only when I realized that they wouldn't return to normal that I started self-medicating. And we know what happened there.
More than a decade later, the lingering effects of the accident remain a constant presence in my life. They are a daily reminder of what happened, of how I am not who I once was. I was asked in what ways these effects manifest themselves and, shockingly, couldn't come up with the words to explain. One way is something I've mentioned here before, how I can be annoying to watch TV shows and movies with since I have to be reminded of what's going on and who certain characters are. I have to write things down constantly, which is where my iPhone comes in incredibly handy since I can just get down whatever I need to at that moment. And we're talking even simple things like throwing the trash or running the dishwasher. I also have to stick to some sort of routine in the morning and the evenings when it comes to getting out of and getting ready for bed. I have to leave my meds in a certain location or else I will completely forget I'm even on them. I have to leave my toothpaste and anything else I need out on the bathroom counter or I will forget to use it. Reading and writing can sometimes be a challenge. It can take me a week to finish one blog post because I lose my train of thought. Or I'm writing one blog but suddenly get an idea for another and start it right away. I often have to re-read things two or three times in order to comprehend them, whether it be texts or a book or even my own writing. My moods and emotions are not always consistent, which is not helped by the high does of meds I have to take. My impulse control and judgement aren't always great. I have a tendency to do something on impulse, only to regret it later. I'll say something bad or buy something expensive on the spur of the moment completely without thinking only to linger for hours in how stupid I was to say/buy it. I'm poor at planning. My memory, both long and short term, fails me sometimes. And I can be awkward when it comes to social situations because I get extremely self-conscious. I feel like everyone can tell I'm not right and is talking about it. Or I feel like I'm going to say the wrong thing or not get somebody's joke and I'll be made fun of for it. All of these things affect me every single day. They likely will for the rest of my life. What has not improved by now will never improve. But it could be fixed someday. There is research that shows stem cells could reprogram the brain and dramatically improve or even cure the symptoms of TBI. You never know what science will do in the future. But for now, I am content with my progress. I was never going to be perfect to begin with, but am definitely far from it now. This is not how I intended to live or how I may have wanted to live but at least I did live through all of that. And in a way it is liberating to have very little concept of my limitations. Because it makes me feel like anyone can do anything. You make due with the hand you're dealt.
