…four years ago, he began the Long Walk and a slow descent into loss, sorrow, fear, and deep reflection as he traveled westward in search of something that would give him a purpose. A reason for doing.
He found that he’d awoken in the wrong dream.
Again.
But he stuck around because he wanted to see how the story would unfold.
I’m clicking around on Canva for no reason in particular. It does seem that I’ve been here before, but I couldn’t recall when or why.
Oh, look — there’s a login function and it does appear that my Mac keychain has stored a username and password that I’d used on here before, so we’ll give it a go.
Well, that worked.
Hey, look, there’s also a “All your designs” section. I wonder what’s there…
…and suddenly it all became a bit more clear, about why I had memories of having been here before. I was trying out this new “Canva” thing and seeing if it would have any value for our team or for presentations. In fact, I could even say with absolute certainty that it was on December, 20, 2017 — just days before The Fall.
Apparently, I was trying out a humorous visual aide for a talk that I was planning on giving at the end of Christmas when the teams returned at the beginning of the year and that I’d include in a discussion with onboarding of the Noida team.
Probably only really meaningful to maybe two or three hundred people around the globe.
I certainly do miss being involved with the motley crew of most capable and admirable designers, developers, and engineers.
Sometimes it’s like that.
That is all.
Somebody had posted this in a TBI group…
Hi everyone, how’s everyone doing? Quick question: what’s the recovery process like for Diffused Axonal shearing? Is there any coming back from this severe type of brain injury? 4 months in and my brother still doesn’t talk.
–Anonymous
And, because I can’t leave well enough alone, perhaps the world may stumble onto my thoughts and find some benefit from it:
—
Okay, here’s the thing: “DAI” and “Shearing” are the terms that are used medically to describe what’s occurred.
Can anyone come back from it? Well, maybe. It depends on… well… everything.
We’re talking about the one thing in the whole of the known universe that can, so far as we know, interpret the universe. And if one’s brain has been jarred from an impact, if it’s survivable, it may effectively scramble all of the memories and knowledge that person had.
Brain Injuries are as unique as a thumbprint. No two TBIs are the same. With two identical twins in the prime of their health and youth were to sustain identical trauma, they will absolutely have a completely different array of issues. One may feel a bit tired for a few days… and the other may be fatal. They’re that unique.
So, can somebody come back from it? That, like all things, depends.
My TBI was about three years: 4m fall, head first onto concrete, knocked unconscious instantly, coma, DAI, CNS shearing. I was 45 and generally in perfect health. I was in a coma for about two weeks and had to relearn absolutely everything (and I do mean everything) and have been frustrated now and again with proprioception and dexterity challenges.
Today, I’m still relearning and gaining more understanding of the various bumps and ridges of my own particular TBI.
Have I come back? Eh, it depends on one’s interpretation of “coming back”. And upon who one asks. I don’t think I have, yet. But in some ways, I can do more now that I did before. I still walk with a cane every now and again, but don’t like it — yet I can still run a 5K or more (I ran a 1/4 marathon a few months ago). I get mentally exhausted much sooner than some people. But I’m learning how to work around it… and work with it.
It’s been a long journey through a mental and emotional hell — and through it all, it was critically important that I had support and understanding of my wife and family.
Rather random, as I do…
I once dabbled a bit in calligraphy. Enjoyed it as a boy. Okay, honestly, that was about 35 years ago.
I discontinued it because other things drew my interest. I rediscovered it a few years ago. My scratchings were, then, as poor as one might assume they were, but I did enjoy picking up a quill every now and again and scrawling out a few words in a notebook while on a conference call:
Fast forward another two years or so and, well, gravity struck… hard… and secondary to the trauma from impact came this wonderfully enjoyable experience: agraphia.
After I’d overcome that oh-so-enjoyable, year-long, inability to write, followed by another year of slow, no… effing ponderous proprioception-induced chicken-scratch and then forcing myself every day for three months to write notes for several hours per day, I now find myself pondering picking up a nib again.
I have collected a number of statements, quotes, quips, and one-liners that I could dash off, but I haven’t anywhere in The Burrow that I’d write apart from perhaps in my Poäng.
So, when I assemble my desk, I’ll see that I can readily move the keyboard and track-pad aside leaving enough room to explore a few different writing styles.
And, of course, homeschooling the kids as we do, I’ll see that I create enough space to teach the kids some D’Nealian or similar.
the rest of me 