There's a Reason They Play Soccer on the Grass

So it's been two years since I landed in the hospital with a bonked head. (Scroll down to beginning of February).

Two years ago I tried to watch the Super Bowl in my hospital room, but was thwarted by:

1. the blind spot in the middle of my vision (the clot was pressing on my visual cortex);
2. the horrible reception and green streaks on the TV
3. my apathy for football. (but yesterday's game was exciting, I'll give you that)

People who don't see me very often ask, "How ARE you?" I say, "Fine, thanks - how are you?" and then they say, "No, I mean your head. Are you all better and everything?" and I say, "Oh, yeah, that. Yeah. I think so, I mean, I forget things but I don't know if it's age or what....So, can you believe all this rain?"

But they don't let it drop. They say, "Wow, that was scary." I say, "Yep. It was." And I try to figure out if they really want to hear the whole story or not. Do they want to know the details, do they want to hear the funny stories, or do they want confirmation that I'm not in a coma?

On Saturday, we drove by the hospital across the bay where I was transferred to the ICU from our little local ER. I remembered little details, like the box marked "CADAVER BAGS" over the nurses' station as I shuffled down the hall. I guess not too many of their patients walk around, because you'd think they'd have those in a closet or something. Guess they need to keep them handy.

I also remembered the two neurosurgeons. One wanted to operate and the other didn't (or, actually, he left it up to us but said he thought it would be OK to hold off). The one who wanted to operate helped himself to OJ off my dining tray and spilled it all over himself. Smooth. Perhaps God was sending us a message confirming the decision not to operate.

The main thing I took away from this experience is how freakin' lucky I am. Everyone in the hospital seemed pretty surprised I was as coherent as I was. The first doctor said, "You're probably just one of those disgustingly healthy people." You know? I really am. I have bad allergies, whoop de doo. I've broken one tiny bone in my hand in college, and no others. I've never had my body really malfunction. My cells haven't turned against me (except those wrinkly ones, but they're not really hurting anything).

And the importance of accepting things as they are. If I did have some sequelae, there's not really a damn thing anyone could do about it and I would just have to live with it. If I'm ever a little freaked out by not remembering something I really should remember, I just remind myself, "Yeah, well, if it IS because of the brain injury, you know what the doctors would tell you? They'd tell you to write stuff down. Use post-it notes. Because it's not fixable. So whatever the reason is, you've just got to adapt." I have to put on my very-big-girl pants and deal with it.

I still get a little nervous playing soccer with the boys. I have a new fear of falling that I didn't have before. I freaked out a little when I started getting monthly migraines last year. But mostly, everything is good, and I am really freakin' lucky.

And you know what else? I'm really glad I blog. I remember stuff from the time that G. has totally forgotten. He can't believe the details I remember. I remember only because I blogged it. As I went back through the Feb 06 entries, I saw stories about my boys that I'd forgotten, too. Blogging rules.