August 1, 2001, I wroke up in the ER of Henry Mayo Hospital with no memory. Initially, I was aware of deep pain but could not say where the pain was from. Like a light in the head going hurt hurt hurt. I could look around but I could not identify what I saw. You are there but you are disembodied with the only reality to hang on to is pain.
I did not where I was, how I got there, or what happened. I could not express who I was. I am not even sure I had an idea that I existed. The effort of dealing with this was exhausting; I went back to sleep.
I have been raised to believe if you want a helping hand you better look at the end of your wrist first. Telling people how wonderful you are was both bragging and bad manners. I am going to tell you this story to lay a foundation because I am going to change my behavior at Kos. I am going to write more not less. My education and my character which are deeply embedded in my core came back first and in big chunks and I remain more deeply aware of grandparents and their contribution to the first six years of my life.
My grandparents essentially raised me in Cohoes a small town in upstate New York on a small farm of fifty acres. They passed on sense of continuity and consistency that has grounded me all my life. They called each other Mr. and Mrs. B. I don't think they ever told me they loved me. I just knew it. They epitomized the New England way: stoic, suck it up, do your best, and your best is your duty. My kindergarten teacher Miss Goldie was almost as old as god and she taught both my mother and my grandmother and they were still in awe and god help me if I disgraced them in front of her.
That was there, along with please and thank you, right away. So from the beginning I struggled with my entire core to regain what was lost to me. Initially, I could not even understand that. I was now in some kind of tunnel. I knew I was deprived but I did not know of what. I would have long periods of silence which produced a profound grief and I would burst into tears. And then I would be horrified. I was crying which I did not want to do and yet, I could not stop.
This being more sensitive to feelings and criticism remain with me and I still do not like it. I used to brag about having the skin of alligator. I sang for 14 years on the stage in some form. I studied opera from 9 to 26 and I sing in eight different languages. I have not sung publically since my daughter's funeral in 1995. I am just now starting to practice for fun again. Having spent a life time auditioning, I had learned to deal with rejection.
Being judged stupid and overly sentimental is a recent experience. I think I recoil more than I ever did before. If you go to restaurant and want to order liver because it is soft and you say I'll take your leather without the worms(onions) and the waitress erupts stuns me to silence. I am both frustrated because I initially do not understand what happened and I am embarrassed that I have to explain I am brain dammaged to a total stranger.
My therapist says I should tell everyone I meet up front and if I think I am stigmatized I am and I should just get over it. Yesterday, I got really whammed here and told I was not going to be molycoddled. Initially, I just wanted to go away quietly but I read the diaries of those who were so critical of mine and it was just nonsense.
I want to share my experience and my knowledge--and it is there. More importantly, coming here and reading and wanting to write and wanting to write better has been the best therapy I have ever had. There are so many things that I still can't do but that does not change the value of the things I have learned. It still does not change the things that I cannot do.
I am also for all intents and purposes almost entirely alone. I have tried to change that in many ways and it just does not work. What is good about this is that allows me to do a lot of deep thinking and meditation. My handicaps make me leary about sharing that. But it has its place here just like a lot of other things.
I am also going to reach out for help. I live in the hood of Los Angeles. I just got DSL all this time I have been on dial up. For the first time I could take instruction over the phone. I need to learn how to use the computer better. I cannot cut and paste and reading about it does not help--I need someone to say do this and do you see that? and the result should be.... I do not understand how to do a lot of things to write better diaries like quote blocks and bolding and spell check.
Now I rest assured that I will be helped here eventually. BTW, I can only take this in small doses like 15 minutes at a time. In my thinking and working up the courage to ask for help, I read the diary about Scott Bateman loosing his job for animation. Kossacks had paid for many things. How about paying Scott to animate the features of Kos so the many oldsters who hate admitting how difficult this is for them, and those who are coming home less than they were, and all those who may need help in the future with traumas, can find a way to learn without bothering anyone. The brain trauma makes hearing and connecting to doing a much more extended process.
I am growing more accustomed to not speaking and relying on writing to express myself. Being rehabbed on the computer was the biggest viable connection. The more I connected the more came back. Because this happened to me at 58, I was only given one basic computer course as I was deemed not viable for any kind of work. The waiting lists at community college are extensive and again there is the age thing and why would I take space from the young?
A final big deal, after two years of rehab I read that the drug I am on neurotin was developed for epilepsy and suppressed frontal lob activity. I am being given it for off labeled usage for emotional stability. There are no studies justifying any of this in any way. What it is -- is very expensive and being pushed for many off label uses by Eli Lilly and the government has just fined them 35million on something like 250 billion in off label sales. I wean myself off and my mind starts returning very rapidly. Such is the focus of our medical care treatment by the numbers.
I have written this solely for the purpose of laying down a foundation to be free to write without feeling inadequate because it is never going to have excellent grammar or spelling again. In 1963, I was a national merit scholarship winner and I know to some extent what should be. So when I lost 20%, I still test out 80%. A major part of my problem is only I really experience how much I have lost. If I had started at 80 and was reduced to 60, there would be more understanding. In learning to give patience and compassion to myself, I have learned to extend it to everyone else.
I thank all of you who have read this for your patience doing so.