TBI Challenge The n-th

Hearing issues.

Not hearing loss, mind you. But sensitivity to sound along with the inability to distinguish direction of certain sounds.

When I awoke, my hearing was simply gone, which was easy to explain. I couldn’t hear. People understood that.

Yes, it was problem enough. And in a few weeks it became manageable for a time while the problem evolved.

Somewhat later–a few days or weeks–it shifted to the point that I could perceive sounds. I think I then likened it to sounds being somewhat overdriven. The perception was that certain frequencies might be overdriven and yet others were normal, yet difficult to perceive because they’re bracketed by things overdriven.  This, of course, increases difficulty in consciously (subconsciously?) separating sounds for comprehension.

I still lack the ability to readily discern the origin of sounds. Yes, I know the birds are chirping. Yes, I know it’s in the direction of outside. Yes, I know there are loads of them.

But nearby voices, that I know to be at conversational distances, aren’t clear –  drowned out entirely by by background sounds of hundreds of birds, or loads of neighbor dogs barking, or passing trucks and machinery.

This isn’t a problem with my ears.

Not at all – the problem started, both left and right, as I recall – simultaneously. And I was effectively unconscious at the time.

This is a  brain problem with interpretation of input data; it’s absolutely not an issue with the inner, middle, or outer ear.

The Great Fall

The Great Fall

So, what happened to me? Why do I slur my speech?

Watching myself hit the ground, knowing how high above the ground I was, I’m wondering why I’m not dead.

Not in the video, until much later when somebody tricked the exposure on the camera: the safety glasses I used, as I insist on wearing them, while using the drill. Norm Abram would be proud.

The drill? Died in the fall.

Insult #2, today

I half-heartedly wrote a review of my NVR (Network Video Recorder) that I mentioned the last post. It was, aside from a few jabs about reliability and lifespan of the product (seriously, it’s modern, inexpensive surveillance equipment) and giving it a rather poor rating, I’ve still yet to see it posted on Amazon.

Time passes.


More than a few.

Then today I went and found the product again and figured I’d repaste the review — thinking that perhaps the previous review was lost to the aether.

So I click through, select a rating, and… well, maybe they -did- receive it and either: there was some objection to my review, the product really is failing that frequently, or it’s something else altogther.

Well, That’s Insulting

The camera controller that I was installing — the very same one with which I was working on that fateful night that I took my nearly fatal, forever life-changing fall — has stopped working.

Dare I say, it’s crashed spectacularly.

No video output over HDMI. Nothing responding on the network.

Oddly, it’s not even reporting the same MAC address. It’s close, matching the label affixed to the underside, but the last two bytes that appeaer on the network when it’s powered on don’t match.

So far it’s a camera system that’s cost about $175,025* in medical bills… plus the forever lost wages, and another $325 for the entirely unusable unit.

* I’m told my estimate above was far too low. It’s closer to $250K.

When You Fall Off, Get Back On

I got my bicycle out today and filled up the tires. I then pondered – very, very briefly – skipping my helmet. Then decided quickly that it was a worthwhile addition. I wasn’t going any further than the 200 ft long driveway.

I was making U-turns and forgotten it was 24 speed touring bike and how the gears worked. I couldn’t get my foot off the pedal and on the ground quickly enough and tumbled over.


So, I picked myself up and got back on that sucker to ride it some more.

Here I am, 46 years old and learning how to ride something as simple as a bicycle all over again.

Today’s experience also served to reinforce that I’ll be leaving my motorcycle parked until I’m very confident in my coordination and balance. Probably for a year or two.