I met my friend in a café today and I am happy to see her. I am trying to be the “me” I was before. I know that when she pauses, it is my turn to speak. I have to comprehend what she says and say something coherent when it is my turn.
But the harder I try to make sense, the harder it gets to breathe. I am trying to be normal, act normal, have a nice normal lunch with a nice, normal friend. She doesn’t know if it’s me at the table or someone else, not really me at all. Neither do I.
I can’t find words like I used to, can’t line them up and connect them, can’t make them do what I need them to do. That is called aphasia. I lost more things, too, but I forget what. That’s because I also acquired amnesia. It makes nothing out of countless somethings I know, don’t know, then know again.
My name is J. I used to have a name with more letters, but that was before the truck. I lost a piece of my mind and sometimes it shows on my face. I pray that it won’t, but I know that it does. Words jam in my ears if I hear them. Jam in my throat if I try to say them. Jam in my skull if I see them. I can’t decipher a menu. Amnesia gouged my memory.
Aphasia gouged my speech. A truck changed my mind, causing in me the type of brain damage former congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords suffered from a shot in the head. I got a new life no one would choose and a new brain no one would pick. That’s supposed to be a pun.
In my first life, I was witty, gritty, off the wall, efficient, proficient, anonymous. This was called freelance writing. I wrote about places I didn’t go, and things I didn’t do, for legends and icons I didn’t know. Think Oprah, Martha, Elmo, and a Devil-Wears-Prada, or two.
I even taught writing once in a while. After that I couldn’t teach writing. I couldn’t teach anything. I couldn’t read or write. Everyone wants to hire the best person they can find and I wasn’t it.
My friend touches my hand and suggests we order food. I’m out-of-order, way more out-of-order than she seemed to know. A few times a day I can put a few words together, hanging somewhat randomly, like clothes on a line, or even say them out loud. This doesn’t seem to be one of those times.
am in my 18th or 19th day of being in healthcare due to three broken bones in spine. Which make me a fall risk even though it's spring. My bones are that bad now. But I hope to get home by Wednesday with a rehabilitated bed that might let me get in and out of it like I used to do or somewhat like I used to do. Sending love.
Get better soon. Your last few posts have been very touching.