Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

This is spike's brain




This is my post- t.b.i. brain.  As I've said before in these pages, her name is Briella.  Still brilliant, just a bit sideways.


My brain is a bit different now.  I've gotten used to her glitches.  I adjust when the whirley-gigs fly out of rhythm.  I no longer run after the scattered pieces of random chaos.  The patterns that are my thoughts are snatches of memory and pieces of dreams.

It takes courage to dream new dreams.  I don't have too much of that yet.  I've only scratched the surface of possibilities.

sapphoq healing t.b.i., brain damage, attitudes and a bunch of other stuff 

Monday, April 08, 2013

The Mini-Mental




December 27, 2004.  

It's winter.  No, it feels like winter.  It's actually spring.  

93, 85 or 86.  

d - l  What word am I spelling backwards?  r  What word is it?  o - w.  

I'm not going to remember any of them.  Nope.  

My childhood was fine.  The biggest problem is that we were poor.  

My biggest problem now is my voice.  I can't sell you a car.  I keep practicing.  I want to go back to that.  They still haven't gotten my glasses right.  

School is fun.  

I try not to use the credit card much.  

I have to go to the bathroom.  Where is it?  

I do push ups.  

It's boring.  They fix meals and do my laundry.  That's all.  What's my address again?  

Around ninety dollars.  Nine hundred.  It went down.  And then they charge you extra for everything.  

I don't talk to my friends anymore and they don't talk to me.  I don't know why.  

She travels a lot.  No.  

Once or twice a week.  I have no one who will take me to the store. 

Speak up so I can hear you.  

That's not right.  This one here?   

A watch.  A pencil.  

Wednesday.  I don't know what county it is.  I'm not from around here.  The tenth floor.  

I leave the strings hanging down so people will think that I am poor.
 

sapphoq healing t.b.i. says: The mini-mental took more than an hour and a half.  Dad no longer cleans up well.  Dementia sucks.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

The Case Speaks



I too have a dream.  It is not such a grand dream perhaps but it is my dream.  This dream came out of my damaged brain.  It is my dream and it does not require you to break into it, analyze it, use it for fodder for your mental masturbations, and then service plan it to death.

No.  This dream that I have is my dream.  I own it.  Not you.  This is my dream.  Not yours.  Not yours to direct, encourage, masticate, or massage into some semblance of what you refer to as normalcy.

I, me, the ego that recognizes me, my own self.  Too, also.  Have, tener, hold, hold on to, gave birth to, denoting ownership of, holding as an intrinsic part of my own true self.  A, an article, one, indicating the subject.  Dream, starstuff, glitter, shine, goal, a journey, a road, a suitcase, a song.  I too have a dream.

There is no you in my dream.  There is no burden of responsibility, state funding, meetings, reports, evaluations, demands, manuals in this which is my dream.  There is no role modeling, teaching, constructive criticism, practicing, rehearsal in my dream.  Get out.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.  

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

It's My Brain, Stupid




You should be satisfied.  You should be satisfied by the crumbs we offer you as we hide behind our desks eating cake.
FUTA.

You should be mesmerized.  You should be mesmerized by the amount of names of big wigs in the field that we toss around in your presence as we engage in mental masturbation in public with no shame.
Unenthusiastic. 

You should be enthusiastic.  You should be enthusiastic about cleaning up kitten shit and then being tested to see if you can remember to initial a place in the notebook where you gave the sick kitten medicine.
Checking my totem.

You should be grateful.  You should be grateful when we offer to get you a ripoff "job" assembling products at home.
Krite.

You should be motivated.  You should be motivated by the idea of listening to a thousand call-in center conversations and transferring them into text.
Enraged. 

You should be awestruck.  You should be awestruck  because we were staff at a community residence for individuals with a traumatic brain injury.
Disgusted.



sapphoq healing traumatic brain injury says: This is Briella.  Who is Briella, you say?  It's my brain, stupid.  But not just and only my fractured brain.  My fractured dreams.  My fractured life.  This is my obsession.  Not to start over again at the bottom rung with your  sour vomitus directions about how to engage in faux-normality.  Your goals are not my goals.  If you want me to invest in something, then give me something to invest in.  If you are not going to help me, then don't hinder me.  Just get out of my way.   I am done with your platitudes.  Your handouts are poisonous.  This is my time to shine.  Get off of the stage.




     

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

ReCreation for folks with t.b.i.

A big shout-out to Sun Valley Adaptive Sports http://www.svasp.org/ of Idaho for providing children, teens, and adults with various disabilities opportunities to learn and participate in activities like rock-climbing, fly-fishing, acting, hiking, rafting, and bowling.

S.V.A.S. also serves people returning from the war with traumatic brain injuries. Participants who may be veterans or on active duty (primarily living in Idaho) are offered week-long camps. The camps are free, and for wounded warriors also free to their spouses. The Associated Press article
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jLqA0GapHCQTjMuLRWk_-l1qZGJAD9BDKJD00 titled "Veterans Find Healing on the Water," by Jesse L. Bonner talks a bit about a recent fly fishing camp as well as about one vet who has been gifted with paid singing lessons upon his return home. The article left me wistfully wishing for such an organization here.

On my own wish list of things to do before I die are: para-sailing, hang-gliding, jumping out of an airplane with a parachute, and sleeping on the side of a cliff in one of those cool looking cocoon sleeping bags. I want to do each of those things at least once. (I have nixed bungee jumping on the grounds that I don't find the idea of dangling upside down appealing).

After my injury, I found that some friends were unable to hang with my personality changes, self-centeredness that often accompanies t.b.i., and intensity. Some friends backed away for awhile, some left permanently. A few stuck around through the worst of my recovery. I felt isolated because I was no longer able to work and thus lacked the socialization inherent in the workplace. I was in physical pain and mentally depressed. I was excluded from rehab and day program participation due to personal circumstance-- the insurance companies were fighting over who would pay the bills. I was also tired as h3ll most of the time. I socialized in the needle-sticking neurodoc's waiting room with others who were also in physical pain, at the pool where I was able to get some physical therapy (thanks to Ike Boka, a dedicated anesthesiologist in private practice), and in the rooms of recovery (from active addiction). Via the internet, I met others who also have traumatic brain injuries and I re-learned how to write in understandable sentences. There were the many nights in the brain injury chat room http://www.braininjurychat.org/ spent with others trying to remember the names of the seven dwarfs. And there was the dog. I wasn't able to walk her at first and hired folks to do so. When I did resume our daily walks, she too became part of reconnecting with others.

The internet became central to my rehab (along with vision therapy-- a shout-out to Dr. Fox and Judy). The folks in the brain injury chat room informed that I would have to be in charge of my own cognitive rehab. I found sites that offered games and other things to help my injured brain. I found people on the internet. As I progressed, I began to acquire some blogs for writing in. Through blogging, I met my good friend Jeremy Crow who got me involved in creating backgrounds for e-stationary. I also discovered places where I learned how to write goals. I slowly began to dream again. And I realized a dream of traveling cross country alone.

Today I am still walking the dog. And yes, I still like swimming in cold water in the woods, birding, and traveling about. (My tastes in reading have changed. Pre-trauma I read mostly fiction. Post-trauma I read mostly computer-related books). Aside from the t.b.i. support groups in Albany run by Peter Kahrmann and continued participation in rooms of recovery, I am also engaged in various writing pursuits. And I found the virtual world of Second Life where I practice 3D building in an effort to combat my visual perception problems. I crochet cotton washcloths and occasionally create an original pattern in needlepoint. I don't object to spending time alone. I am comfortable with my own company. I also like spending kick-back time with others who have dogs, are interested in crocheting or needlepoint or drinking coffee, or who also enjoy traveling.

I do feel the lack of a work-related role in my life. Some days I miss being able to work. I am slowly accepting my loss of a career-- acceptance is not the same thing as approval-- and tackling the organization and care of our home. I plan to stay happily married. I hope to be able to publish the novel I am writing someday (and actually get paid for it); to travel throughout the world via trains, planes, and cruise ships; to meet Jimmy Buffett.

sapphoq healing t.b.i.