You may have noticed (or perhaps not) that I’ve taken a
break for a couple of months.
Two things have happened. My older son got married to a
beautiful young woman. There is much to be said for family celebrations. We had
most all of our families there and dear friends who are family whether they
like it or not. It was a lovely service – designed to fit those two like the
proverbial glove. We were all extremely happy and delighted with the day.
This happened just a couple of weeks ago, just short of my
two-year anniversary of the brain tumor and seizures that nearly ended my
social life. Permanently.
The other thing is that anniversary. I was not planning to
mark it in any way. How tiresome to go around thinking about all that again. Even worse, annoying
others by bringing it up.
My body had other plans. About two weeks out, indeed just
after the wedding, my physical self started to recognize the timing. It was the
strangest thing. This must be the way a tree responds to autumn – suddenly
leaves change color; the whole tree is rattled by the wind.
I was determined to pay no attention to all this, willfully
ignoring and determined that this will go
away if I ignore it.
Instead, my body kept knocking until I paid attention. Headaches,
disturbed sleep, flashbacks to hospital experiences I haven’t remembered (who
would want to?). Like a fist banging on the door of my thoughts – this was NOT
going to go away.
Finally, I got smart enough to pay attention to what my body
wanted to tell me. “Listen to us. We’re
here, just around the corner of your consciousness. Pay attention to the past
two years.”
One of the things I’m pondering is the rehab experience and
how profound it is. It’s funny the way it starts. Everyone in rehab is absolutely
convinced they do not need to be there. I wonder if that’s the way it is for
alcoholics and drug addicts? You look around you and think, “That poor bastard. He’s a mess”. As I
got to know my fellows better, I heard every one of us say – “I don’t really need to be here”. To a one, each of us was convinced we
were fine, just fine.
Some of us, I’m happy to say, went on to “graduate” into a
more or less functional future. Others, sadly, didn’t.
In the meantime, there was much discussion of the “don’t” list
– things you can no longer do after a Traumatic Brain Injury.
This has given me hours of fun, especially as you extend the
basic rule to its nonsense extremes. For example –
No Motorcycles. This seems obvious enough – especially as so
many of the rehab patients were there because of motorcycle accidents. But the
extension is great. I cannot have a new career riding motorcycles in the circus
in that cage of death thing – that sphere where the rider goes up and down and
round and round, very fast and very noisy. No. Similarly, no stunt jumps over
the Grand Canyon or lines of cars or school buses. No off-road racing. Lots of
careers are closed to me.
Beware of horseback riding. Fair enough. Horses are tall.
But this limits my planned career as a barrel racer. Or steeplechase. Or riding
to the hounds (which I think is extremely limited now.) No polo. Bucking broncs
are out of the question. I will not be winning a big rodeo buckle now.
For that matter, bull riding is also off the list. Drat. I
had planned to take this up. I suppose this means I cannot ride sheep or pigs,
either.
My neurologist assures me I could be a rodeo clown, so long
as I could run fast enough to jump into the barrel when the bull is chasing me,
but as that seems unlikely I suppose my rodeo days are over.
No heavy equipment driving. Probably a good idea. But I had
seriously considered highway construction as a second career. Or being a
long-haul trucker, or a crane operator.
Boxing. This would seem obvious, but the therapists assured
me that some people considered going back to this. Really. The extension here
is Mixed Martial Arts fighting, no-rules cage matches, and whatever that is
with the high kicks aimed at the opponents’ faces. I had not really considered
this as a career option, but somehow I bristle at the notion there is anything
I can’t do.
Anything involving heights. Falling on your head is a bad
idea. So, no high-rise construction or anything that requires a ladder.
See what fun this is? You can spend way too much time
thinking about things that are too fast, high, or heavy. I have long maintained
that after 40 one should probably not get one’s ass higher than one’s head,
unless one is already in a bed. I think I am right about that.
So, what should one do for a second career after brain
injury? What is obvious is that most people really don’t want you around.
(Unless they loved you before the incident. And there are a few friends who are
glad to see you.) As for the rest of society? Not so much.
What I really have in mind as a new career is to be the
Oracle at Delphi. People will come and sit at my feet and I will tell them what
to do. They will bring me offerings.
What could go wrong? My pedestal doesn’t need to be all that
high. It’s a slow profession, with no heavy lifting. No animals are involved.
The wardrobe is great.
I can hardly wait.
