Two million years and me
...a dispatch from bewilderness
I have been Judith Hannah Weiss since I was born. But I have only been this Judith Hannah Weiss since one Tuesday in 2006. That’s the day I lost my life. My former life. September 18, 2006.
At first, I was too damaged to know how damaged I was. A few months later, I learned I’d been hit by a drunk with a truck. Or likely I learned it a few hundred times. It took a few months to retain that fact and a few years for me to say it.
Lots of things can be replaced. Your brain isn’t one of them.
The frontal lobes are among the most complex and recently evolved parts of the brain. They have vastly enlarged over the past two million years, which is like two seconds in evolution, about as long as it took to dismantle mine.
They needed to replace the memory board, the logic board, the chipset, the plug-ins, plus the peripheral wiring, whatever that means. But they couldn’t. The good news is I survived. The bad news was brain damage.
Nineteen years post-truck, I am writing two books. They may be called Amnesic Memoir or J and the Jaws of Life. Or something else. In my spare time, I have learned to walk, talk, paint not-real birds and build homes for real birds, too.
The book is built with salvaged words. The homes are built with salvaged wood. The new “me” had never read books I loved, never shared favorite times with my child. I couldn’t remember the sound of her voice or the scent of her hair.
My first response is: I love you. My second response is awe of the brain and its ability to heal. While it's true a brain can't be replaced like a heart, clearly you have clearly put in some effort and your brain has responded (I hope that doesn't sound patronizing). My third response: may I use the word bravery for the Judith Hannah you portray to the world? These achingly moving words show us your brain can still create. You inspire me.
Congratulations on the new book.
Nineteen years - wow.
You are inspirational.
And by the way: where can I get those birds and the book?