Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Failed Joke

A quick memory and then some thoughts:

My father’s co-worker Michael - also my best friend’s father - and his family are visiting in the living room.  It’s soon after I’ve returned from Magee Hospital and I’m standing in the doorway to the stairs that lead up to my room.  Shirtless, but unashamed, I giggle to those assembled, “Michael, I’m modeling myself after you - I have a gut now, see!”  My belly juts forward, seeking applause, - all I can get from the audience is a forced, politely awkward laugh.


At the moment, the joke seemed appropriate - I was attempting to imitate Michael’s tongue and cheek, self-depreciating humor.  My own reaction to the failed joke was brief - mildly recognizing the failure, perhaps a slight adjustment to future jesting jabs, moving on.  No major repercussions or revelations - in truth, the reason this memory remains so vivid alludes me.

Yet the memory is there, so this documents it and now I will provide reflections. 

The exact thoughts Michael had are unknown to me, and since then Michael has sadly passed on - but contemplating this a decade and a half later, I see it as demonstrating the uncertainty that exists for those a survivor returns to.  Michael, and everyone in his family, has been a close family friend ever since our lives came together, and as I recovered their search for an understanding of my condition while providing emotional and practical assistance was a strong part of the base from which I bloomed again - yet even with this strong support and understanding, the proper reaction to my behaviors seemed unclear.  At first glance, my snide comment, though not intended as such, was rude, and as a young adult I should have known better than to say such crass comments - yet I was clearly trying to model my actions after his - making fun of my own gut.  Michael may have questioned if he should criticize me for what he demonstrates, though he presents jibes in a more tactful manner.  Should my parents intervene and gently reprimand me in front of family friends for an uncouth comment?  Should my ignorance in the situation be presented to so I can learn from my mistakes? 

Questions such as these can arise with any awkward situation, but I believe the element of brain injury adds another confusing factor to the equation - my parents may have wondered, “Does Lethan need to be retaught and drilled on the norms of social acceptability after his injury or will he learn this independently as his brain continues to heal?  If Lethan’s brain is allowed to heal independently, is there a time when this social unawareness must be corrected?  What is this time?”

Whether any of these questions passed through anyone’s mind, I have no idea, and I highly doubt they rose with such clarity in the moment, but it seems clear from my research that confusion such as this is not uncommon.  People don’t know how to respond to a survivor relearning the “rules of society”, and while education can help to provide an understanding and perhaps a patience, i don’t think it can ever become easy.


I don’t have a clean way to complete this entry - my hope was to end on with powerful insight that makes the reader go “Ahhhhh….”, but currently, I’ve got nothing.  I suppose that’s how a discussion about little understood traumatic incidents often needs happen - a recitation of the remembered facts of an event, a reflection upon the questions it raises, and moving on.  To assume there are always answers is to deny the chaotic variances of reality. 

Or maybe you know more about the topic than I do.  The reaction of a support group to a survivor recovering from a trauma is something I’m highly interested in - I would love to hear thoughts and comments, so please share this and leave the comments below.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Leaving the Ghetto with a Smile

As readers of this blog may have reasoned, I can complain about my situation in life.  More than that, I can complain with panache. I recognize my skills with logic and locution allow me to produce reasoned, eloquent, passionate diatribes wailing about my position in the world - soliloquies that produce no real results, but damn-it if they don’t sound like they should.  I’m good at complaining.  What’s more, my complaints have been in high form, as of late, because of the dissatisfaction with my current job - but recently I had a privilege that helped to put things into perspective.

It was a Saturday, so I went for a walk.  I’m currently living in the small city of Pohang, Korea and there is an abandoned railroad track near my apartment, so I decided to follow it to where it ends - or starts, depending on your perspective.  The tracks run along the edge of town, and to the right I could see the skyline of high-rise, high-tech apartments that South Korea likes to showboat as an image of gaining a strong international presence - the image of a rising economic and cultural power.  This is an image that, while beautiful and at times absolutely stunning, I’ve become used to in my years in Korea.  What is easy to forget, and what city planners seem to hide, is the image that was to the left side of the tracks - for lack of a better word, it was…a ghetto.  A ramshackle of houses, some well kept while others crumbling, peppered with gardens between the residences and sometimes on the roof, many of which had an older man or woman digging and gathering plants and roots.  These were not the luxury conditions Korea displays to the media, yet each time I saw an area such as this, people were smiling.  It looked to be a hard life, a life ripe with trials and tribulations that I am privileged enough to not be used to and I would not want.  The life in these communities is likely harder than anything the heavy workload I’m struggling with now could give me, but people still smiled.  From my perspective, the road ahead of them seemed taxing, but these travelers of life seemed ready to make the best of the journey.

I relate this to recovery from brain injury by recognizing the struggle.  There is struggle in the mere act of being human - everyone has a different set of trials, and anyone can focus on the hardships of a position.  The goal is not to deny this struggle or to accept the struggle as inevitable.  Nor do I think one should simply enjoy the struggle - struggles suck.  They are painful and can bring a sense of being unable to move beyond a limiting moment in life, yet it is this desire to move on that must be embraced - one can appreciate the enlightenment gained in the quest to move beyond any stagnating struggle.  Don’t grant a false appreciation to hard times, but gain what you can as the opportunities present themselves.  To simplify the idea - make the best of it.



In the piece “Who Am I, Again?”, the TBI survivor, Larry, has a revelation near the end of the story.  To quote him, “If I could have any wish at all…I wouldn’t wish that my accident didn’t happen.  That’s not to say I’m glad my accident happened, or I think it should happen to anyone.  I mean, it sucked, like…a lot…It’s just…well…I’ve met a lot of really great people because of my accident, been a lot of places, seen things I wouldn’t have…It’s just, I guess my accident has kinda made me who I am today…and I like that.”

Larry has reached what might be considered a sort of enlightenment - he doesn’t think what happened was good, but he recognizes it has allowed him to be who he is today.  When I interviewed the survivor who inspired the character of Larry, and this line is a direct quote from one of my interviews with him, I don’t remember him feeling satisfaction with his life - I don’t remember him displaying any complacency toward his situation - but what I do remember is an acceptance of what is and a desire to gain all he can from the healing processes  Due to his injury and circumstance, he has been thrown into a ghetto of a life situation - maybe not economically struggling, but highly limited in seeking any opportunities to improve his situation - yet he chooses to approach this limitation with good grace.  He strives to move on from where he is, but leave it with a smile.

Larry displays a deep peace in his attitude, a wisdom to approaching any situation - don’t accept a given situation, always seek self improvement, and take what you can from where you are.  You have every right to complain, and you can rest assured that I will likely complain again, but while you are in a situation, try to learn from the process of moving forward.


These are my thoughts, transcribed after a long day work - a long day I won’t complain about…this time.


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