The Rest of the Story, The Jarretts Inside the Jarrett, and ""Timesavers #1""

Believe it or not, having a TBI is not all fun and games. Let me take a moment to give you the rest of the story -

I've addressed this first point comically, I called it CRAM (Cognitive Random Access Memory - find that post here). The truth is, it's exhausting. There are four personalities in my head: 

1. “Therapist Jarrett” (The-Jar) - this guy is always telling me that there is certainly a more therapeutic method of accomplishing whatever it is that I have been be doing. You see, I've worked with A LOT of therapists; off the top of my head, I recall eight physical therapists, four occupational therapists, five speech therapists and three personal trainers. Every single one of those therapists left an imprint in my psyche ("Elbows over toes" (occupational), "Slow and steady wins the race" (physical), "Sing along with your daughter" (speech) ).

EVERY time I stand up, "Elbows over toes" rings through my head. EVERY time I engage in an activity, I have to remind myself "slow and steady wins the race." EVERY time I'm in the car with my daughter, The-Jar gets after me to sing along.

The-Jar is a left hand Nazi. He's constantly ridiculing me ("you could've used your left hand for that...").
My left hand is painfully slow and pretty darn clumsy; tasks performed by that arm/ hand take a while, which upsets...

...2.” Taskmaster Jarrett” (Ta-Ja), this personality cannot be pleased; I can ALWAYS wake up earlier, make more preparations or find more efficient shortcuts. The-Jar  always says, "Slow and steady wins the race!" Ta-Ja replies, "What in hell are you blabbering about? You just wasted 4.6 seconds thinking of such rubbish!" 

These two personalities dominate my actions. Every movement has a purpose, be it for therapy or economy. When you see me doing something, Ta-Ja and The-Jar  have carefully planned it out. Can it be done therapeutically? Can it be done any faster? Can I do something else at the same time? Adding to the commentary, but unable to take action is...

...3.  "The Jarrett that was" (TJTW) likes to jump in to analyze how things should be or what I would be doing. This personality is the "Debbie Downer" of the bunch. He is all the more frustrated that he can't make me do. TJTW has two modes of thinking - 1. "If this had never happened..." This is where he makes me contemplate how everything might be different (still married, another kid, still teaching/coaching, etc.). 2. "What I would be doing..." This thought pattern is more immediate. For instance, when I drive by the tennis courts at the school where I coached, TJTW makes me think I'd be coaching and playing right now if this had never happened.

The three of these personalities make it difficult for...

...4. "The Jarrett that is" (TJTI) to figure out what he wants. If anything, TJTI simply wants the other three to calm down. In essence, TJTI only exists to moderate the tyrannical urges of the other three.
I will go into more detail concerning the many Jarretts inside the Jarrett in the next few entries in a series that I will call “Morning Fun Time with Four Jarretts.” 

Moving on, all four Jarretts have to deal with a body that continues to show signs of brain injury; most notably tremors. This is something that I, I, I and I have come to accept as “normal.” That said, it may look painful or annoying - but it’s just another part of TJTI. However, I do wonder what others think when they see me shaking. I am starting to believe that when people say that I don’t sound as bad as I think they are being honest, as opposed to being polite and sparing my feelings. Maybe it’s the same way with the shaking, but I still wonder.

At this time, I would like to introduce a new segment from Cavernofmymind industries - a segment that I will call ““Timesavers””. There are two sets of quotation marks -one to introduce this new segment, and the other to suggest that anything listed in this category is really not saving any time at all. As I have said previously, Ta-Ja is big on saving time. Sometimes he convinces me to do something pretty ridiculous to save 3 seconds. The question becomes what is more ridiculous? The task itself, or the fact that I sometimes actually do it. Here we go:

“Timesaver #1” “A Shirt Bag Built for Poo”

I recently ordered some clothes from Old Navy. I decided that I wanted to wear one of those shirts that was still in the plastic packaging. Ta-Ja saw the bag and suggested that I could put the bag in my back pocket to use as a baggy to pick up my dog’s droppings when I took her for a walk later that morning. Ta-Ja convinced me to take this action by explaining that I would save time not having to go out of my way to throw the bag away. I would also be a ready to go once we hit the door. This sounds ridiculous, right? Did I do it? Oh yeah! Probably saved me 6 seconds! Cha-ching! I do this sort of thing all the time. I plan to make this a regular part of this blog.
Until then... Ciao!

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

Fun with Dragon

just for fun, I am going to dictate and not make any corrections to see what comes out. So here goes, I'm going to read out of the Fellowship of the Ring by Tolkien --

Jarrett = Bona fide

I'm now certified with the Brain Ouchie Observation Broadcast System. Here is how: According to math and the calendar, it's been 1193 days since my surgery. This is a very auspicious number for us headcases. For you see, 11-9+3=5 and 1+1+9+3=14, where 1+4=5. What's more, 11+93=104; 10+4=14 and ¡OJO! 4+1=5. What's the significance of 5? Turns out, five is the number of letters in BOOBS - the certification mentioned above.

My first BOO concerns the issue of life's pace. Throughout my time in rehab, my therapists would say, "slow and steady wins the race." Apparently, my therapists weren't thinking about the fervor with which some grocery store patrons will go after an open checkout lane. Slow and steady don't win that race. There is consolation in the fact that, because I end up having to wait behind one of these people, I had time enough to stare at the candy at the checkout long enough to determine that I would very much like the scrumptious marriage of toffee and chocolate that is the Skor candy bar.

I'm sure I'll be deBOOBed for this, but I have no other observations. Having lived this way for 3+ years, I've learned how to adapt. To keep up with the fast pace, I plan WAY ahead and eat lots of Skor bars. I could certainly complain more, but it could be worse.

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

Chuck Norris, Bears and X-Ray Vision. OH MY!

I've put on this "cavernoma" ruse long enough. It's time for me to come clean. Here is the true story of how I got my TBI -

Let's go back to early May of 2009. I was a typical suburban dude - married with a young daughter, good job as a teacher/coach, house in the suburbs, etc. Later on that month, while driving home from work, I came across a giant bear (Bruce the bear) chasing a group of orphans.  I spent my youth wrestling bears in the wilds of Montana, so I stopped to render assistance.

You might be saying, "Jarrett, there aren't any bears in North Texas."
So that we may proceed, let's assume that there are bears in North Texas (now that I think about it, it might have been a VERY LARGE squirrel).

Either way, a large furry animal was chasing after some orphans (hmm...they might have been leaves *shrugs shoulders*).

I sprang from my car like so much Chuck Norris. I then willed my car to pull over to the curb and park. 

I ran and got between the squirrel bear and the orphan leaves. Bruce the squirrel bear reared up on his hind legs and started pulling acorns out of a pouch in his abdomen (perhaps he was a squirrel bear kangaroo? A squearoo) and throwing them at me. Imagine a pitching machine at the batting cages times 57 (give or take).

I deftly evaded the oncoming oak tree fruits (The Matrix style) until the squearoo ran out of acorns, I then ran up to him and we engaged in fisticuffs. I quickly realized why I called him Bruce.The throw-down has since become legend in Sherman, known locally as "The Thrilla in Sherman-uh."

I dealt what I thought was the fatal blow and turned to tend to the traumatized orphan leaves, but that scoundrel of a squearoo picked up a nearby acorn and launched at the back of my head. It struck me, but didn't seem to phase me.

Aside from a slight headache for the next week, I felt fine. Then, the night before I was to meet the president at a ceremony organized by NASA (I don't know?) to thank me for saving the orphan leaves, the headache became more of a head explosion.
The next day, I stayed home. I started vomiting and my headache only got worse. I went to the doctor, threw up in the waiting room. After the upchuck situation I was swiftly lead to an exam room.

The doctor suggested I go to the ER to get a CT scan. I scoffed at the notion of relying on such technology for a diagnosis. I suggested looking into a mirror and using my x-ray vision. I did this and drew an exact replica of this image on a post-it note.

From this very detailed drawing, the doctor informed me that the acorn to the head must have caused some sort of head trauma. Given the location and severity of the trauma, he suggested calling for a helicopter to take more to a hospital in Dallas. Again, I scoffed.

I then lifted from the ground like so much Superman and flew to Zale Lipshy in Dallas.

It feels great to finally get that off my chest. Before you ask, the flying and x-ray vision nerves are in the Pons - that's why I can't do them anymore.

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

The Curious Case of the Impaled Foot and the Inaugural Terd

I'm not sure if I should joke about this. If it offends you, make believe I didn't write it or that it says something you really like (e.g. it's free car day at every car dealer ever, or the forecast tomorrow calls for $100 bills to rain down all day, and so on).

Here goes - I think I found way for men to experience the pain of childbirth. Listen, I got a shot in my foot and it freaking hurt! I've been through a lot: brain surgery, implant surgery, braces, middle school, middle school with braces; I can truly say that nothing prepared me for a shot in the middle of my foot. Think of it like this - a needle shaped object pierces a very sensitive part of your body, we'll say...the back of your knee. Scratch that, the bottom of your foot is pretty sensitive, we'll go with that. When you can wrap your mind around that, you'll have a pretty good idea of what it is to be STABBED on the bottom of your foot - I'll never be the same.

- And now, page two -

What I'm about to write will begin a new segment here at CavernofMyMind, Inc. I like words, I like efficiency (I also like donuts, but unfortunately, they don't figure into this). Let's say that efficiency lay with words and begat a child, that child would be named "Fun with Words". Coincidentally, that is also the name of this new segment.

Technically, the new words conceived this way will always be a cross between two words, this makes it a term, but that word is boring. Therefore, I propose the term "terd" (term + word). The use of this term is something of a paradox - "terd" is itself a term that is composed of two words. In essence, "terd"is the first terd.

The terd for today's Fun with Words is "bangry". This terd is the lovechild of bored and angry. The library lady where I work was telling a story about her mom being "bored and angry". Being the efficiency expert that I am, I conceived "bangry" on the spot. Think of all the time she could've saved if she had said one word instead of two. The effective use of this terd is as follows: let's say you're a dude, and your girlfriend drags you to a girlie play that you have no interest in. You're already angry for having to go and now you have to watch a boring play. The artsy emo chick at the concession booth who wants a part in the play, but doesn't get one so she works the concession booth to be "close to the magic,” asks how you are doing. You reply, "I'm bangry." With the time you saved from saying one word instead of two, you'll be able to get back to your seat in time for the second half of the play. Doing this will certainly make you "bangrier" (or would it be "more bangry"?).

This concludes the inauguration of Fun with Words, and this blog entry. I hope you've enjoyed it and don't come away bangry.

FIN

@JarrettLWilson

Blog of future past

Happy September 10th everyone! I was going to make a joke about this seemingly prosaic day being somehow significant, but it turns out that the US defeated the British Navy at the Battle of Lake Erie during the War of 1812 on this day in 1813 (thanks, Wikipedia!). Since winning is more gooder than losing, I certify September 10 as a day worthy of remembrance. Perhaps, like me, you're thinking such a certification from the likes of me has little merit. You are free to forget this very important event - it's a free country. If I recall correctly, the Battle of Lake Erie was fought because the United Statesians wanted to remember the Alamo, which wouldn't occur for 24 years in a state that didn't exist in the legal sense. The British thought it was silly to remember a battle that hadn't occurred yet in a yet to be annexed state, so they did the logical thing and tried to capture a great lake. Why Lake Erie? The British, being practical blokes, decided to use the alphabet. It turns out that the letter 'E' comes before the letters 'H', 'M', 'O' and 'S'. Naturally, Lake Erie was the obvious choice. Had the British won, they would have taken away our right to remember things that hadn't happened in states yet to be established. So remember (if you like), if someone tells you not to remember something, challenge this bloke to fisticuffs, seek the nearest lake that comes first alphabetically, and throw down.

ITEM! Time makes fools of us all and I'm no exception. It is no longer September 10th, it is some later date, but I dare not record it here for fear that I will be late in publishing this entry. Rest assured that it's not September 10th.

Now, let's go to Jarrett for other news.

Thanks, Jarrett.

September 3rd marked the third anniversary of a local resident's brain surgery. When asked about this milestone, the resident - named Jarrett, had this to say, "The time has gone by so quickly, yet so much has happened." I asked him to comment on how he's coping with his new life; his response - "I like to solve problems. This condition makes it more difficult to do just about everything. I try to find solutions that will help me complete these tasks with greater efficacy. In essence, I get to solve problems all day, I like that."

Back to you, Jarrett.

Thanks, Jarrett. What's an eff-ik-ussy?

I wondered that myself, Jarrett. I didn't have the chance to ask, but I suspect it's a brand name of duct tape; duct tape makes everything easier!

That it does, Jarrett. In sports news, two teams competed in a game of some sort and one of those teams won, while the other lost - the margin of victory was 11 goal units...

I've started an autobiography and will mention some parts here as a sounding board. The premise is not simply "I am born, I grew up." I tried that and got bored to sleep (which was fine, I enjoy sleeping). I decided that, given the statement above about my difficulty with everyday tasks, the book would center around how annoying things are. Don't get it? HOW ANNOYING! I'll add 'explaining things' to my list. It still includes details about my life, they are anecdotally mentioned in relation to the annoyance they are associated with. I'll just jump right in -

Annoyance, the first: plastic wrap. The inspiration for the topic of my book was born out of taking the plastic wrap off a Hot Pocket (sausage marinara, of course!).Before the brain injury (hereafter referred to as BBI), plastic wrap was just a minor obstacle between me and my food, but now it's like trying to break into a bank vault.  Aside from the barrier that I can't chew through, there's a very specific combination of unwrapping that must be observed or, like with a bank vault, you'll have to start over again; there have been a few occasions when I've considered eating the shrink wrap on a sandwich. Opening the bag inside a cereal box practically requires the jaws of life. When I eat the last of a box of cereal, a small part of me dies inside; not only have I consumed the last of my box of Special K Red Berries, but I'll need to break out my chainsaw to open a new box.

Like many items and/or actions on this list, this annoyance stems from my lack of fine motor skills. Being "all thumbs" is not so bad when doing things like clumsily scratching your dog's head with your left hand, but that lack of manual dexterity is nothing but cruel when you're hungry and your PBJ is wrapped in a layer of plastic armor.

As I understand it, the pons on the brainstem (the location of my hemorrhage/surgery), is the "bridge" (pons = Latin for bridge; thanks again, Wikipedia!) between the cerebral cortex and the cerebellum. The cerebellum is responsible for fine tuning the movements that the frontal lobe has decided to make. Think of it this way - you tell a friend to tell another friend to meet you at your house at 7:15 with 12 Buds. The doorbell rings at 5:17, you open the door to find your friend standing there with 21 potatoes ("spuds"). He got the message, but the info was a little mixed up. In the case of plastic wrap, my frontal lobe tries tells my cerebellum to help with the finer movements. The pons, responsible for delivering that message, mistakes the words "finer" with "shaky" and "help" with "cause to be more clumsy." Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.

This entry has taken far too long, I will publish more annoyances later.

Until then, ciao!

@JarrettLWilson

The Sh*t List, Fart #1

I make a lot of jokes. People say I inspire them because I am still jovial despite my situation. Being funny is nice, inspiring people is also nice. Truthfully, living with a brain injury is not nice. This blog will be my pity party and shit list all rolled into one. I was really going to try not to make light, but the way I like to combine words has inexorably led me to tell you that this entry could also be called the "shit party".

We'll get this party started shortly - there will be shit everywhere, I promise. Before we commence, I must tell you that I will NOT pull punches. If you think that I'm talking about you - get over it, and while you're at it get over yourself. Also, I've decided that I can't stifle my need to make jokes. I'm not very good at being angry, but I'm pretty good at making with the funny, so I'll use that to bolster my angst. Here goes:

1.I hate how I CONSTANTLY think about trying to walk normally or that I should be using my left hand. I could be thinking about something fun to do with my daughter or how to increase the life of a lightbulb, but I devote most of my immediate thought to making my left hamstring work so my left leg won't snap forward - it doesn't work, I've been like this for three years now. The only thing that has really changed is my thinking that if I focus on it it'll improve. More on this later, I'm going to use the topic at hand to segue into...

2. I HATE HATE HATE it when people tell me to be patient. Here's the difference between patience for someone like me vs. everyone else. Everyone else orders something from Amazon, it comes in three days later and they complain about how it took forever. Someone like me put that same order in three years ago and we're still waiting. While we're on the subject of the stupid things people do/say...

3. I can't stand it when people say "everything happens for a reason" or "it's all part of God's plan". I've heard people say this when they lose their job or something like that - which sucks, I won't dispute that. But try losing - your ability to do what you love, your wife, all thoughts of life as you once envisioned it, articulate physical movement, and the voice you once had. Why did this happen? As near as I can figure it happened so these people could stroke themselves by offering platitudes to someone while saying "I'm glad I'm not that guy.”

The shit list is certainly longer, but I need to clean my apartment. That'll be #4 - I hate how it takes so long to do everything.

@JarrettLWilson