Damage

 One Friday night, my two girls and I were playing "Just Dance" on the Wii.  The three of us laughed, danced and sweated in the basement going through song after song.  I may not have remembered that night as vividly as I do today except the next day my world changed.  I became damaged.

The next morning I woke up to enjoy coffee by the fire.  I noticed that the toothpaste wouldn't stay in my mouth and my face felt funny.  The left side of my face wouldn't move.  It wasn't numb, it wasn't in pain, it just wouldn't move.  My eye and cheek sagged so that every facial expression was crooked.  As the day went on, my left arm lost all its feeling.  I would drop things because the connection between my brain and my hand were delayed.  It was like watching yourself in slow motion, but your mind thinks everything is regular speed.

The MRI showed a large mass in the right side of my brain.

After a week with steroids injected into my arm each evening to reduce the inflammation in my brain and try to relieve the damage, the damage was severe enough that some of it remained permanent.  People around me can't see that anything is different.  I can see it in my reflection and in each picture.  I can feel it almost every moment of the day.  Whenever I am tired or stressed it gets worse.  There is nothing I can do to make it feel better or to make it go away.

The worst part is how my brain connections have slowed.  I have always been extremely smart.  I can remember things and calculate and solve any problem.  There are moments, now, when I can't find the words.  I have to close my eyes and pause in the middle of my sentence to search for the word.  I'm afraid someone will interrupt while I'm thinking or assume I'm not intelligent because I have to try to remember the word I want to say.

All this is permanent.  These are symptoms of my damaged brain.

I'm trying to get to a point where I welcome the damage, the change. I try to welcome the new me and the fact that I can overcome the challenges.  First, I had to grieve the loss.  Sometimes I still grieve even after 2 years, but most of the time I keep moving.

Damage is unique.  It isn't just a story you remember because of that scar on your knee, its a new you.  It's rarely a new you that you would choose.  It becomes a part of who you are.  You become more amazing and more powerful when the damage doesn't slow you down or change you.  You become your own hero when you are victorious.