Suddenly I Don't Know Where I Am

YOWZA!

Two weeks ago, I was driving in the city where I live and had a spell of amnesia.  Nothing looked familiar.  I had no idea where I was, how I got there, or where I was going.

Let’s say this was unsettling, and not in the same way that finding ants crawling in your Big Mac is unsettling.   It was terrifying, like how it would be if A Nightmare on Elm Street was real, except… What the hell is Elm Street and do I live there or on Sycamore?

My cell phone battery had died, so I couldn’t even call for help.  And anyway, how do you tell people to rescue you when you don’t know where they should go?  (“Hi… can you come and get me?  I’m in my car.  On a street.  I see some pine trees.  Oh and there’s a German Shepherd”).   Yeah, I was S.O.L. until I got my bearings, which probably was only a few minutes, but nonetheless, the experience “drove home” the fact that I’ve still got some cognitive challenges.

Interestingly, though, my brain still grasps abstraction and allegory quite well.  After I got home from being lost, I cried, recharged my cell phone, took some deep breaths, and then SUDDENLY IT HIT ME:  Major life upheavals of any kind are a bit like amnesia while driving.  You think you know where you’re going, then—BAM!—a close family member dies, or you lose the job you’ve held for 15 years, or your house burns down and you lose all your childhood photos and your Freddie Kruger DVDs.  Suddenly, your five-year career plan, or your hope for love everafter, or your expectation that you’ll take care of your health once the kids leave the nest,  gets overshadowed by the realization that there is no guarantee that your destination will even be there someday down the road.

I cannot say for sure if and when I’ll regain my previous (may I add excellent) ability to remember names, dates, stories, and places.  I don’t know if and when I’ll stop having crying jags in the middle of social gatherings because suddenly I cannot recognize people’s faces.  All I can do is wait, summon my inner resources, and take notice of the details around me and the progress I’ve made.  Today, I stayed awake for 12 hours without needing a nap, when just two months ago I could only manage six hours.  I no longer have double vision, like I did before;  in fact, I can see that on the carpet are two ants crawling toward a piece of Dorito…

How is it that ants can find a crumb 20 yards away?  That would be like me sensing food all the way in Kansas and driving there from Ohio.  

Suddenly I'm Craving Shrimp

THWACK!

I never used to crave shrimp (nor did I ever crave anything that costs $34.99/pound or has the texture of rubber chickens), but now, after a head-on auto collision that resulted in head trauma, my brain says, "Whoa, shrimp is a-maaaaaayyy-zing." Suddenly, I like it even more than Bubba-the-Shrimp-Lover-Guy from Forrest Gump.  (Bubba:  "Shrimp is the fruit of the sea... There's pineapple shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that's about it"). 

No, Bubba, you've never had shrimp 'til you've had it in your oatmeal.  I'm telling you, it's also very good with curry powder.  Or dipped in hummus.

This shrimp fetish is kind of new, but the other day, while I was eating grilled shrimp for about the fourth time in a week, a weird realization occurred to me.  No, the realization was not that Lady Gaga was really Born This Way. While eating my meal, SUDDENLY IT HIT ME that so much of who I “think I am” really is subject to which parts of my brain are partying and which ones are on sick leave. Before my head injury, I used to say things like:  "I am a red person, not really a blue person." "I am not a Lady Gaga listener."   And:  "I am a vegetarian, not a seafood person."

Well, let me tell you that I'm now not only enjoying shrimp these days, I'm also wearing blue clothing more often.  I'm suddenly listening to music recorded after the year 2000. (Prior to the accident, I listened mostly to 70s/80s tunes and was very holier-than-thou about newer music being uninspired).

Personality changes are a really common aftereffect of head injury, which leads me to believe that "I" am not really "Me" and that I need to keep myself open to newer definitions of myself.  Tomorrow, I could no longer be a "shrimp person" and could become a "liver and onions" person.  You could be reading this blog and think, "I love online blogs," and then tomorrow have a giant coconut fall on your head from a cargo plane and never read blogs again. 

My point is that sometimes we think we're Born This Way, only to find out we're so much more.