Singing The Blues

I am working on a brief article about a blues musician who was diagnosed with Esophageal Cancer last year. On September 22, the same day my wheels stopped at a crack in the sidewalk, this blues guitarist had his vocal chords removed. He has spent the past five months undergoing radiation treatments and learning to live with no voice.

Through the whole thing, he has continued to strum on his guitar, absent of any harmonica and no accompanying vocals. He has appeared at benefit concerts meant to help him pay his large, outstanding medical debt. In a few weeks he flies to Prague to attend another benefit show.

In our back and forth emails you could almost hear his excitement and respect for all the support as well for his second chance at life. He used phrases like "happy chappy" in his message. This man, learning to live without a voice, seemed so grateful.

Just another instance where I am left feeling like an ingrate. I cry about my lack of control, about my fleeting focus, depression, and temper brought on from this injury. I feel sorry for myself and hate what this accident has done to me. Meanwhile here is this man, unable to speak, sing, or play the harmonica but still upbeat and positive.

It's sad to think about this lifelong blues musician left with no voice to sing the blues, the one thing he truly loves in life, while I sit here singing the blues to myself everyday, every chance I get. It's a tune I need to change but am unsure how to change keys.

Rut's Wrong...

I'm stuck in a rut. Days have gone by and nothing has been accomplished. I try and revisit the routine I had before bashing my head in. I walk the dog in the morning. I do beginners yoga when I get back. I eat a small meal and make a hot cup of tea. Until 9:00am I feel good. And then I sit down for work.

Today, I tried to focus on the story I am writing. I read emails but halfway through my thoughts wandered. I started outlines but never finished them. I tried to read the spreadsheets but couldn't get past the first few lines. I need to conduct interviews but I am reluctant to leave the house.

In my previous life, I called this procrastination. In my current life, it is just the way it is. I hate it. Every thought is like a flash of light. After it disappears another one enters my head. There are no deep concepts inside my head. I have nothing to say but the obvious. I have no opinions worth sharing-- some would say this is a good thing, I know.

If this continues much longer I will need help to regain my focus. I don't know how I will do this. I don't know if it can ever come back. If I try to work on it, will it be another box on my checklist, next to 'meditate', 'exercise, and 'rest'? Will this be another empty box?

The hardest part about it is I don't know if this even is a rut. There's a big chance that this so-called rut is my new home and there's a good chance I will never get out of it. If that's the case I fear what may come. This rut is too small for this depression to take refuge in. That's rut's happening here...

The Weatherman...

Another storm system blew through Southern California yesterday and along with it came that same pressure inside my head. The storm wasn't as intense as the last one and the headache wasn't nearly as bad, it was just there from the night before the storm hit until the last drop of rain fell to the ground. I saw the forecast and knew rain was expected a few days before it came. I know now that there isn't any need to check the weather. When a storm is brewing funny things happen inside my head.

The night before the rain arrived, we headed over to our friends house for dessert and a glass of wine. I chose the most expensive dessert on the menu; a nine dollar dessert- quite the waste of money considering I can't taste a thing.

On our way over, I found myself squinting on the road. My reactions were slow. My thoughts were as well. I got out of the car and told Aimee I thought my reactions lagged. She told me I was always a bit slow. When we arrived at the house, I felt fatigued. I had a hard time focusing on the conversation. When we left the pressure started and remained until the storm was gone.

I got to thinking that I should be a weatherman. I would be a hundred percent if any changes in barometric pressure and I could use all of my special new gifts during the report. If rain was in the forecast I could tilt my head and drool all over the areas where rain was expected to fall. The stronger the storm the more I could use my depression. I would cry if accidents occurred on the freeways, or if a parade was canceled due to inclement weather. If nothing but clear skies, to get some extra ratings, I would even focus my new temper on the interns and scream insults off-camera. Who wouldn't watch that. I'd be using my powers for good, not evil. Positive thoughts!

Captain Furious

It's been a week, a very depressing and frustrating week since I last posted something. I've realized a few things during that time. I found out that what I've been told is actually happening. I've discovered that the depression and rage that I have felt in previous months has been nothing compared to what it is now and I have learned that I have no way to control it, no way to keep it from taking over.

I've never had an experience quite like it. I never was prepared to accept the fact that I would be a different person from this. I believed I was in control that any changes would be insignificant. I tried to accept it. I nodded my head when the neurologist told me that my temper would flare and my depression would intensify. I told people that the depression and rage had arrived. I was wrong. I didn't bother to think that it was only the onset of what would be an onslaught of new emotions. I didn't believe that a mere hit on the head would usher in a new persona.

There were instances during the past week when I was punching walls, doors, and kicking the furniture. I did so while clenching my jaws shut, like some madman in a killing frenzy. I fear what I might turn into if I don't learn to control it.

I've always had a temper. Nothing I couldn't control. I believe it's my difficulty changing tasks that's to blame. I start a task and can't adapt. I don't know how to quit. I continue no matter how impossible it may be and the rage creeps up on me, it's sneaky and I don't see it coming. And then I snap.

I consider the rage and depression related. When my ire fades, I turn emotional and sad. I think dark thoughts, like I was a teenager all over again. There's not any other way to describe it besides dark, cold, and lonely.

Control will come one day but I am frustrated because they said this would happen and there I sat, legs crossed, stroking my beard, acting like I was prepared and writing the same. I wasn't and I am not. I am more fragile than ever, the difference from before is you can't see it, it's internal and comes out when no one is around. This isn't recovery, this is a discovery, a discovery of what this injury has turned me into.

More Lame Brain Movie Reviews

Another week of working, watching movies, drooling, and trying to get my life back, is in the books. I'd thought I'd start the new week with some reviews of the past week's flicks. This week I am reviewing two new movies and one old classic, well, I think it's a classic, anyways. Those three movies include the newest from George Clooney, Up In The Air, the latest from Robert Downey Jr., Sherlock Holmes, and an oldie but goodie from the man himself, Tom Cruise, Days Of Thunder.

The other night Aimee and I got into our chill clothes- slippers, old sweat pants and comfy thrift store tees, and watched Up In The Air. The film is about a career man who spends his days traveling through the country's airports, accruing frequent flyer miles and joining every reward program there is. When he's not traveling, Clooney's character is firing people, that's what he does for a living. Three years ago I had something in common with Clooney. Not that I fired people for a living, but I spent most of my week in airports and hotels working for some engineering firm. Well, I wasn't much of an engineer but I did get wrapped up in the rewards program. I would bypass the long lines and head straight for the rental car, or to the reservation desk. I didn't do it because I liked seeing the faces on those waiting patiently in line, I did it because it made me feel important. It's strange what happens to you when you travel all of the time.

Now back to the movie. Clooney's character likes the road, better than he does his home. That said, the story is a coming of age story for middle aged, career minded people. I won't give it away, but Clooney has a change of heart. And while the story is a bit predictable, the movie, the writing, the acting is all strong. Clooney got me once again. Out of a possible four damaged neurons, I give this film a total of three damaged neurons.

Next up, is Sherlock Holmes. We invited some friends over, had a few beers and put the newest Downey Jr. film on. It starts quick, typical Guy Ritchie fashion. It starts with a fight, typical Guy Ritchie fashion. It had quick dialog, again, typical Ritchie fashion. At times, at least for the recently brain damaged, the dialog was too quick and hard to keep up with. The fight scenes were a bit overdone. I thought there were too many fight scenes. I'd rather see the gumshoe in Sherlock not the half-naked badass. In all, the plot was good, the writing had some witty banter, and Downey Jr. showed up, as did Jude Law. This was enjoyable. I give this film two and three quarter damaged neurons. The review would have been much higher if they weren't talking so fast. I mean I have brain damage, a little bit rude and inconsiderate I would say.

Lastly, an oldie but goodie. After taking Artie for a little hike, we came home and just chilled for a while. Nothing was on the TV, I didn't want to read, or do much of anything. Days Of Thunder was on and, I don't know, every time this damn movie is on, I have to watch it. I must have seen this feel good fast speed flick a hundred times, it was obvious, when Cole Trickle was in the pit, I started to scream, 'go, go go' timing it perfectly with Cruise. Part of the reason I like this movie so much is how cheesy and lame it is, how it is Top Gun for rednecks. The other reason, I love the names they used. Cole Trickle? Rowdy Burns? Russ Wheeler? How funny can they get. It sounds strange but I give this movie three and a half damaged neurons, almost perfect. Every time I watch this, the emotions race through me, my smile speeds across my face and I head for the weiner's circle. That's right, weiner's circle, not winner's circle.

So there you have it. My week in movie reviews. Stay tuned. Up this week; It's Complicated, The Box, and Crazy Heart.

How AdDroolable

As if the lack of focus, the constant irritability, the dark thoughts, and the rage aren't enough symptoms for one person to handle, the other day a new symptom arose, more like slid out of my mouth and onto Aimee's shoulder as I gave her a hug. The new symptom, just to add a little insult to injury, is the presence of drool, an overabundance of saliva.

If I look down with my mouth open, the floodgates unlatch and saliva starts to leak out of my mouth. whether that is on my pillow while I am reading, or on my dog's head as I pet him and tell him that I forgive him for putting me in a coma.

I'm not sure why it's happening and what has brought it on. My hope is maybe it means I'm getting my taste back. That because it is on its way back, I am salivating more. I've scoured the brain injury websites and have come up with nothing.

So now, Aimee is stuck with hearing me slurp up my drool or else she might have a string of saliva fall on her face or onto her clothes. She wants me to go in for a checkup. She fears that it has something to do with me losing control. I don't agree. I think if it is not my taste buds waking from their four month hibernation, than it is the icing on what is one grotesque cake, or an awful punchline to an unfunny joke.

There it is; my latest symptom. So if you see me wearing a bib, than don't be alarmed. Just tell me how adroolable I look.

Political Stupor

I'm unsure if I am still in a daze from the Bush years, or, if my recent near-death experience left me completely disillusioned about politics. All I know is I'm numb. I watched Obama's State of the Union speech last week, everyday at lunch I get my news from watching the Daily Show. Nothing has changed during the past year. I am starting to see that change is not something we can believe in, it never has been.

When I studied history in college, I read Democracy in America by Alexei de Tocqueville. In it, the Frenchman implied that the founders of the country didn't want change to come easy. They wanted to make it nearly impossible. Look at all of the big changes throughout our country's history. Look at Civil Rights, Women's Suffrage, slavery and one can begin to see Tocqeuville's managed to see the real constitution, long before any of those issues came to fruition. Look at what it took for any change to come.

I have to admit, I was convinced that Obama might be able to right the sinking ship. I got caught up in the election. I realize that my hatred for Bush got the best of me. But ever since waking up from the coma, I can't see much of a point behind politics. I can't make out much of a difference between the elephant and the donkey. Unfortunately, besides the difference in intellect between our former president and Obama, there's not much else that has changed and I'm realizing that it doesn't really matter. They both have their talking points, they both pander to their parties. This is the way things are and this is how it will remain. I'm getting sick of hearing pundits rant about the issues. The issues will always be there. There is never a short supply of issues. There is a shortage of solutions. I now realize that nothing can be done. We are leaning too far to right the sinking ship.

It's nice to know that my inner depression is now looking at the bigger picture, however bleak it may be.