One day it hit me hard, as did it to all of us and all at once. There was at least 9 in the room and stillness finally came over us making its life scoring mark.
I had to learn how to walk and how to talk again. I forgot all I was, all I did, all I failed and succeeded at. I forgot my likes and dislikes, my favourites, my hates, and I found out the hard way how my hates includes brussel spouts.
I didn’t know what 4 + 4 was or even more frighteningly so, 4 x 4. 10 divided by 10 was also an impossibility as was remembering what I ate for breakfast before lunchtime.
It took me 7 and a half months to put my pelvis back into place and properly aligned. It took me another month tacked onto this to fully bend my right leg. Unable to move my neck, I slept in a recliner nightly for 2 months as I sought the right position to make it all go away – all of it.
Never going out was fine by me. Any attempts at speech great or minuscule resulted in pain and humiliation and sheer agony beyond the scale. The slurring of my words accompanied by the drooling from the left side of my mouth made my presence unsavory to even the most farrow of any species.
My late father said it best when he called the temporary moments of brain fog/fart as “KRAFT”. This was an acronym for Kan’t Remember A Fucking Thing”. Amen father. 7 solid months of this and its still ongoing and its taken me over 3 weeks to write this post and at great expense.
I spent 3 months at a head injury clinic in Western Canada. There I worked and worked and worked to find my marbles and to remember anything about myself and my life and the days I lived. 6 long, grueling, and excruciatingly sad and pathetic hours each day fighting to get my life back. Physiotherapy for my body, simple math and puzzles for my brain, walks for my lungs, stretching for my muscles, and a room full of other damaged people all fucked beyond recognition. I entered at 4 and half months post accident and found what it is I was so desperately needing.
And there it happened right then and there at lunch in our curtained windowed room called “The Fish Bowl”. Among us was Marc, Kathleen, Veronica, Jessie, Dave, D-Leigh, Lester and one other girl whom I cannot recall her name, but she was the one who done got blown up, flying 50 meters through the cold, crisp, air of the North of Canada. How she survived WE will never know. It simply was not her day to go – true for all of us.
I do recall walking to the center table and playing a song on my iPod, its small speaker was enough to flood our eyes with tears even more so than usual. And it was then there at that moment did I fully realize just how lucky I was – we all were – and just how Just How JUST HOW fragile life is and just how fragile we all are.
I am forever bonded to those beautiful people in the Fish Bowl; they were all for my Soul. Nothing else mattered. I was completely shattered and they were the glue that held the last tiny fragment of me together. Here is our song: