Life In The Slow Lane...
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San Diego, CA, United States
This is a commentary about the slow lane, about the slowing of time since I suffered a severe brain injury while skateboarding with my dog. This is a blog about recovery; about our '82 VW Westfalia. It's about writing, surfing, camping, married life, bleeding ulcers that make you feel old at 32; about family, friends, and my dog Artie; it's about cruising in fourth gear, getting passed by every car and learning to appreciate every second of it.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

"Hey You Guys..."

"Well, I woke up this morning and my dog had torn my whole closet apart," said one trauma nurse to two of her colleagues from the other side of the curtain. "Worst of all, she completely ripped up my new Anthropology sweater. I just bought it too and their stuff is expensive."

"Yeah, well my dog put me in a coma," I said. "In the scheme of things, I'd say you made it out all right."

The nurses laughed and then peeked behind the curtain and apologized. I told them I couldn't help myself. Though, looking back it's disturbing to think about the things we spend our time worrying over; those small inconveniences, our little complaints in life, whether that be the chewed up sweater, or the mess the wife makes when she gets home from work, they take up too much of our existence, at least they took up too much of mine before the fall. These complaints are normal, I know, and I have had these thoughts before, telling myself that change is needed. However, hearing the complaint from inside the Intensive Care Unit has me unnerved and upset, not at the nurse or her complaints but at the human condition, the fact that we need a catastrophe before we call upon change.

It's just one of my thoughts from my recent hospital stay. Only four days after leaving, the experience stays with me, a result from an unstable and damaged mind.

And if I'm not thinking about my recent surgery, I'm thinking about the interstate of pain racing from my forehead to behind my right ear. And if not for that, my family is measuring the swelling in my right eye or gaging the bulge in front of my right ear.

There go the complaints again.

Most of all, it's good to be home. Sure, my life now consists of dozing in and out of sleep during bad TV programs, or while watching movies, most of which I have already seen. And yes, much of my day is now dictated by the highs and lows brought on by Vicodin, or is spent sipping on hot tea from the Beatles mug my sister bought for me. And although, my head resembles the head of the deformed Fratelli brother, Sloth, from the movie Goonies, at least I'm home, the only place where change can truly begin.

1 comment:

  1. You and Aimee have been in my thoughts all week. I am so happy the surgery was a are on the road (maybe going 55mph), but you will get there. All those little insignificant things that we think are so important are distractions from what is real. You are getting the crash course in "An Appreciation for Life" and you are way ahead of most people.
    (I just watched Goonies yesterday...HEY YOU GUUUUUYS!!!!!!!!!)
    Miss ya'll!