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, October 23, 2010

The Good Times Are Killing Me!

A few weeks after I left the hospital I ran into a neighbor on my way to the grocery store. He rode alongside of me in his electric scooter. We talked about our health; I asked him about his recent knee surgery and he asked me about my head. He told me that I had finally become an adult, or, in his words, I had reached manhood. He said it happened to him during the Korean War.

I didn't think much about that statement, not then or in the year since my fall. All that changed when I received this message the other day on Facebook from a young skater:

"I came across your story a few weeks ago. I used to board a lot without my helmet before I read your article. Shortly after I read it, I went out boarding with some friends but I grabbed my helmet. That day I ended up getting speed wobbles near the bottom of the hill and I wiped out. my head hit the ground first, hard. I was confused at first and my head was pounding. I quickly crawled out of the road way and on to a patch of grass. After about 30 seconds or so I realized I fell. I checked myself over and all I had were little scrapes and a mild headache. My helmet on the other hand was cracked. If I had not come across your story I truly believe that I would have not been wearing my helmet that day. I just wanted to thank you and let you know that some good has came from your misfortune."

After reading it, I started thinking about my neighbor's statement. It started to make sense. Before bashing my head in, it would have been difficult to find someone that thought that I had made a difference; actually, it wouldn't have been difficult, it would have been impossible. But after I read this message, for the first time since my fall, I felt like I had done something good. I realized that my neighbor was right that day on our walk together. That maybe it took this traumatic experience, a horribly bad experience, for me to do something good.


  1. So moving: That you made a difference in the life of a total stranger. And, too, that you really believe you never had an impact on the lives of others before your accident. I find it hard to believe that pre-accident Dorian was so devoid of societal value.

  2. Aw, thanks Aaryn B. But, I think you'd be surprised at how lame I could get.