Severe Brain Damage

This story is essentially, about the refining of the nature that is mine and banking that off of the rails that are thine. So, please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste… well, taste… well…     I’m a man.  Or was…

My motivation for writing (outside of the desire for wealth and fame) is not to provide illumination for the heart and soul of those suffering from brain damage, although I hope it will do that. I am writing to provide a link of reference, commonality and understanding for the friends and family of those going through the type of healing and rehabilitation that I am going through. For friends and family it is an endless, ongoing, frustrating situation, filled with both hope, disappointment and self blame.

Enduring the loss of a loved one’s former humanity is not comfortable. My friends and family lost me as surely as if my accident had killed rather than maimed. The me they knew is gone and will not be coming back. The me they have now, though it is the me I now am, is an ongoing reminder of the me who lives in their memory but will never be here again. The me writing today is engaged in an effort to become an acceptable substitute for the me that he was, and that they remember. I am learning to play the role, and as time goes on, I’m getting better and better reviews. But I am not now, nor will I ever be the he that once was me. 

The satisfaction I enjoy is significant and comes at least as potently from the fact that I’m able to pull it off, as it does from any actual “recovery,” which, thank Zeus and all good vibrations, is large and still continues. However, it is me, more than my family and friends who actually grasps the soulful nature of that satisfaction. Hopefully the work on these pages will help pave a path toward a more satisfying recovery for them as well.