There’s a picture of Ma cleaning the 3 bloody pins scaffolded on my hand.
Post-concussion amnesia of the accident & days thereafter. Cracked the jaw of my fucking helmet I hit so hard. It wasn’t my first, so concerns about long-term effects have certainly been on my mind, so to speak.
Faint, faint, very faint thinning hope for this brain business. At least I’m au courant. Now it’s all over the place. Traumatic brain injury soldiers. Hollywood movies of traumatic brain injury soldiers. Football players killing themselves, noting
January of 2008, I took Haley & Lucia snowboarding up at Liberty Ice Rink. That’s when dislocations and breaks stepped up to the headspace & timing bubble. Crash, bang, boom. Caught the snowboard edge on 3 runs. Saw stars the first time. Started going west on I-70 instead of west.
August of 2009, I pissed off my BMW race bike. Bessie hocked me like a loogey, catapulted me 30 away. Despite the hype, I reckon that high-side was brain-injury neutral. After all, I’d landed on grass, not the tarmac — see how that makes perfect sense? I’d shattered and sheared enough other bones to suggest they converted the E=MC2. The noggin wasn’t the first to knock.
May of 2012
September 7, 2012, at the 10.9 mile, 24-obstacle Tough Mudder with Kevo
He yielded. He referred.
Ma got me to that neuropsych @ Sinai.
I used the “S” word. That got me into summer-camp in December.
I used the “G”word —
This was the tarmac slip & slide episode, 2012. It was a forgotten freakout in a cracked teapot. I saw the jaw-cracked helmet.
I spent the next 5 months, under-medicated, shook-up, suicidal, self-absorbed, disassociated and sad.
The pre-existent family bi-polarity inhaled deeply.
- ” God, please end this.
- ” It is my right, whether you think I’m sane or not, troubled or not, depressed or not, to see value and purpose in ending my life.”
- ” There is nothing else I want to do but ride
- ” I’d be right back on the bike, if only …
- ” … fuck Life Insurance, I want a policy for Death Assurance … better move to Switzerland
- ” … instead of disability or dismemberment …
- ” … fuck Walt Whitman
Never could do a Rubik’s Cube. Can’t draw a stick-figure. Almost failed out of the US Army Infantry School after numerous failures at Land Navigation. Have spun-out and/or wrecked every single car I’ve ever owned. Test said everything we already know, but answered the question
I remain the verbally muscle-bound bully. I remain the visual-spatial sand-faced pussy on the beach.
I try to be as charming and personable as possible to make up with my mouth what my brain cannot do. I do wonder if I’ll be able to get my shook-up head around Java and its abstract object orientation. My business developers say