A Guide to Brain Injury #3

Diane, a PSW, shared her friend with me. I guess she had a bad stroke, and was in a wheelchair, like me. I kept up with her online. She told me all about Fred. Dianes friend, Pauline, made an impressive recovery, and even learned how to talk. One time Fred picked a fight with Ralph, and the PSWs took the side of Ralph, a resident too, and of course they did the write up. Fred is considered violent now. Be a Pauline, not a Fred they say. That’s a thing; schoolyard politics too.

Styger is kind, and he is German, so he is fake, and arrogant. I’m not a racist. I just think people act like where they come from, and besides, what else do I have, but what I think. It helps to know them, and I must know them. It’s how I survive. Styger had his stroke somewhat later than me yet, is independent even though his dominant side was affected, but he doesn’t have ataxia. I do.

`He was an airline pilot’ equals he can be trusted. No, he can’t. He learned the same lessons I did. He is sneaky and aggressive, and I fight him all the time. Comparison is the thief of joy. I hate it here.

I just met Phillip today. He has an English accent, he is an artist, he encouraged me, and I like him. He left. I confirmed that he didn’t want to leave. Figures. I hate it here.

Pelli is a nut, but he is happy, mostly, and he is obviously brown. I wonder if he knows how well he is loved and taken care of here. He may not have that where he bound. I heard it was long term care. All I know is when a pig’s hoof leaves a hole in the mud, it fills up with dirty water. There he goes again. All he does all day, is walk up and down that hallway, but maybe watch television once in a while. Oh yes, he claps every time he changes rooms, a certain amount per room. l don’t know. I actually don’t care. It makes sense to him. The PSWs are just like Canada, the Mosque is more important than The Drum; they both ditched me for Pelli. I hate it here

Karaoke again tonight, deep sigh.

Jake is Indigenous, so am I, and for that reason, I will always be forgiving. I get it. He yelled at me once, I said nothing, but the second time I put him in in his place. He is Cree. They are a proud, silent people, and respect strength. They listen to their elders, and they are pretty to look at. The owners of this place should find out why he is the way he is, that is if they want to be the place Natives want to go, or even are sent. The owners keep themselves separate, never talk to us, keep this place locked up, and there is no sign of indigenousness here. Jake fights, smokes, and he is mostly independent, so he’s ready to leave. Even though they had two indigenous people here, and asked nicely, they still aren’t ready to house indigenous people here. I have often laid in bed and thought of my grandmother. How did she survive residential school. I am trapped here. I hate it.

Stephanie and Joe; I put them together because they got together very soon after they met. I didn’t like them at first, but they were sweet, and grew on me. She was quick to hug me when I needed it most, and he showed me pictures of what happened to him. I didn’t know I needed that. She kept being homeless, and he kept wreaking himself. They were two lost souls that found each other, and I don’t think anybody begrudged that. They both smoked and took turns eating and sleeping at each other’s ‘place’. Their comings and goings kept me amused, but they also made me realize men are a lot of work.

Dick is funny as hell, and at the institute’s expense. Finally, someone was up before me, but only because he smokes. I used to listen to classical music because it was good for me, way up high as to not hear Seinfeld, but not now. I just listen to his. He’s just like me, but mouthier. Dick lost his wife in a car accident. That’s why he is here. He was the driver. I can tell. There was a big blue sticker on Dick’s door, and I thought it meant the same thing as me, but when I made a point of asking, they just looked away, and said, ‘it doesn’t mean the same thing. That’s when I remembered that he was always going to the cancer centre. I hate this place.

Giovanna puts her feet on my side and yells at me for it so I put her across from me. The rest of them at the table stick up for me because she is clearly wrong. It’s a territory thing. She won’t speak English, but there is more one way to communicate. She is always trying to make me speak Italian, so I told her