A Guide to Brain Injury #2

My eyes are buggy. No one can see it, but one eye goes round and round. It can’t focus. It’s the left side; the side I am paralyzed on, and to make things worse, I have ataxia on that side too. The prism glasses help, but to me, it still feels like I just got off one those round things we ran around spinning as a kid. It feels like that all the time. I don’t think they put them in parks anymore; probably too many kids

got hurt. Too bad for me though. Its tough having something nobody knows very much about.

I don’t talk well. I have Aphasia. I talk like a drunk, but I have all my marbles. I actually have to think a long time before I say something; how to say it, and whether, or not its worth it. I only say 95 percent of what think. I think a lot. People get uncomfortable with silence for a reason.

I got what I wanted, but what I didn’t realize was that what I really wanted was to get away from what I didn’t want. Now I’m lonely.

I’m depressed too. Depression leads to anxiety, which leads to unhappiness. My cure for unhappiness is hiking, biking, kayaking, or rollerblading. Can’t do that. Now, I have take the pills to be happy, or not depressed anyway.

I hate fire alarms. Twice a month they test it, not including when someone calls 911. It’s ear piercingly painful, and I have to have earplugs on hand for all those occasions. They tell us in broken English to ‘remain in’ our suite and ‘stay calm until the fire department comes’. I wonder if they will come to get me, or if they will come at all, the elevator is out and I can’t walk to use the stairs, as I use a wheelchair. I’m probably not worth it. I don’t want to burn to death; that would be painful. I decide to wait it out, go on the balcony and call for someone else to save me. That’s the thought process I use to soothe myself. There they go with the alarm again. I don’t even care about a fire; can’t do anything anyway.

I learned a new word today, kerfuckle.

Foreplay. Its `funny’ how someone feeding you is foreplay. I’m done with men, as they can do what they want, but the PSWSs wouldn’t have it. I admit. It was awkward. I wouldn’t have sex with that guy, but the PSWs thought I had, and I let them think what they want. And they thought he was taking advantage of me, and again, I let them. A girl has got to have some kind of excitement.

You know, the one with short white hair…’ She just described all 148 people in here. Except me.

Now I’m a nag. I used not nag as I knew that the person being nagged is the person with the power. Now, it’s the only way to get what you want, but I have to have a plan B. How bad do I really want it. Can I live without it, or is there some other way to get it. Sometimes, these methods result in me having it twice, but no matter, I might need another one later.

Both gates are open, the sun is shining, and the door is unlocked; we’re living on easy street. Sometimes, I go, even though there is rain in the forecast. Maybe I will get back in time.

Ralph is pale with dark circles around the eyes. What does he do…stay up all night waiting for morning. He always wears the same thing everyday. Ralph speaks softly and loves thunderstorms. He waits for them like a child waits for Christmas. He almost died twice, talks about it often, and loves games too. Ralph is in love. I think it is with one of the PSWs, Karen, and I think it’s reciprocal. As a matter of fact, several of them have a crush on him. He loads up on carbs, the same ones, if possible, every morning and gets up last. He is kind to me so I don’t fight him even though he gets the workers. So long as they come in to put me to bed. Most nights I fall asleep to the sound of him playing cards with them. I don’t know how he got here, but it involved anger.

Patricia scares the f out of me. She came to visit me, probably on their suggestion. They want us to be friends. We will be; when I feel like it. I think she is an alcoholic, the way she holds onto her coffee. Her husband, a biker, whom she really loves, is still in a coma from heart problems. We told each other that we loved each other, we held hands, and the visit ended with a fist pump. She used to own a cruddy bar, and it burnt down, so she had a stroke. That’s how she ended up here.

Carol used to be a foreman. That’s how she describes it. She knows the rules, and does what she is supposed to. I do what she tells me to do.