OK…BP normal or less most of the time…in the
pool four or five times a week…lots of walking…no anxiety attacks for a number
of weeks. Recovered? …NO? Really…?
This is my temptation. I feel good most of
the time that I forget “I am a brain damaged person.” Then I attempt to carry
bags of salt for water softener into the house, and only when Emma (17)
intervenes and does it do I realize that I’m not supposed to lift heavy things.
Or I attempt to watch a fast paced, British version of Sherlock, and can’t
really catch all the dialogue, or follow the rapid logic of the plot…. Or I
listen to the contractor explaining the intricacies of concrete diagnosis and
repair and come away completely confused…hmmm…”a brain damaged person…”
I guess recovery continues, with more subtle
manifestations of the injury, and I’m not carefully enough attuned to these to
catch them. Glad for Emma’s intervention, and the time to ponder the TV show,
and can count on Beatrix to at least remember everything the contractor said.
It comes down to the fact that these are the
hard days, when everything seems fine, but risk is still there, and care must
be taken even when I feel guilty for not carrying the salt, and stupid for not
following the plot, and incompetent when I can’t remember the contractor’s
words. “I am a brain damaged person”…still. Always, now.
No comments:
Post a Comment