What should I say?

 So, we've covered some things not to say to a person with a brain injury, but what is a good thing to say?

Otherwise known as "how do I not upset my friend/relative/acquaintance?"

It's not too difficult, I promise.

When they first hear of the injury, people are usually pretty good. They'll say things like "I'm sorry," and "that must be very difficult," or maybe "what do you need?" Afterward, things can fall apart a bit. People may kind of file away the information, as the immediate issue has passed, or they may assume that, like most of the rest of the health issues people face, recovery is imminent, and they don't need any more help.

This is usually far from the truth. Brain injury, as I have likely mentioned, is a rest-of-your-life kind of thing. It doesn't go away or heal itself up. There are a lot of things we can do to rebuild our brains, of course, but in many instances, the effects are always there, we just learn to deal with them. This means that "what do you need" question can be asked over and over again.

I'm a bit over five years out with mine, and I still have days where, like today, I feel some weird after effects. Today brought me an experience I can only describe as feeling like the processing speed of everything that had to do with the left side of my body was happening in another time zone, which was an hour behind. Not all of our feelings make the most sense, but there it is.

Sometimes we can't just make our brains work properly, and things like this can happen. It makes functioning a bit more difficult. It could cause us to change plans we made, or call off of an activity. It could even cause a day where there's nothing for it but to go back to bed, putting everything off until tomorrow. 

What I mean to say is that we will definitely have days where we need help. I need help pretty regularly, and I have a supportive family. Some of us don't have that, and that is where friends can come in.

For example, if someone should call off a planned shopping trip or afternoon out, gently ask them why, and if they have something they need help with instead. It may not be anything like you have planned, but it could still mean spending some time with them, which could help, and will definitely mean they get some outside contact on what is likely not a good day for them. 

You could offer to pick up the lunch they had to cancel and have it at their house. If that doesn't work, you could let them know you'll bring a lunch over instead. You'd made plans, after all, and if they're not able to go, you likely still have the time freed up. 

I'm blessed enough to have friends like this. It helps. They make sure I get out sometimes and see a different place than my house. They make sure I can have a bit of fun once in a while. And, as is known, fun is fun! It's something to look forward to, something that breaks up the every day drudgery. Even if we don't work a repetitive or boring job anymore, we likely still want to do things. Could be anything besides staring at the inside of our home, alone or watching tv.

It doesn't take too much to see if there's anything we might want to do, even if we cancel. All you have to do is give it a try.

"Don't you wish you could remember your event?"

 I reached out to a friend for this one. Frankly, I'm pretty shocked that someone would actually say this, but it takes all kinds, I guess.

So. What's problematic about this speculative question?

Well, I mean, would you want to remember what was likely the worst day of your life? Because I'm pretty happy I don't. Most of us don't remember it clearly, as the human brain has a good system of shut-offs for ridiculously traumatic injuries. Not all of the brains, of course, but a lot of us don't remember the exact moment, or even day, of our brain injuries.

What I can't understand, is why would you think someone wants to remember that? For the why of it? Or to satisfy your own curiosity? It's kind of like saying to someone who just lost a pet, "Hey, give me a play by play of the day your dog was run over by a Mac truck." Who does that? (Side note, I know some people do, out of a combination of lack of inner censor and a lack of ability to read the room.) If the statement in quotes bothers you, then you can imagine how it makes the person being asked feel.

As I've mentioned, due to my injury, I don't remember the better part of about 6 months. There are flashes of things, like when you look through a kaleidoscope and can see random flashes of pink when you turn the barrel. Mostly, they're not visible and only flit by. That's what my memories of those six months are like.

Do I want to remember the event that turned my life upside down? 

Not really, no. I try to be a very put together, private person, always have in my adult life. I already know about things from that day that cause me great embarrassment. I know they shouldn't, but they do. I'm embarrassed that I apparently projectile vomited in the parking lot of the building I was in when I knew I needed to go to the ER. I'm also terribly embarrassed that I was screaming while in the CT scan. Do I understand that these things were out of my control? Yes. Does that make me less embarrassed? Not a bit. 

Being in an accident, having a stroke of any kind, being beaten or however else a person got their injury can be a sensitive topic. Unfortunately, some people are very willing to wade through the other person's discomfort to get at the very least a reason, and at the other end of it, a blow by blow description.

We have to give these types of descriptions to doctors, therapists, specialists and usually some family members. We don't want to have to trot it out for anyone else.

It feels almost the same as it does for me to have to explain how I'm still disabled periodically. It's been averaging about once per year. I hate doing that. I have to tell someone all of the things that don't work with my brain, or in my brain. This particular process depresses me for days after. 

I know that at some point, if I want to get into public speaking, I'm going to have to rehash it often, but that's my choice. I can make the decision that I want to share my story. I've already made that decision by writing this blog. When someone asks a question like that one, though, they take that decision away. They know that the asker is expecting an answer, and they are expected to provide it. This puts them in a pretty nasty position. Should they tell them? Or should they try to politely refuse, possibly causing a scene to be made? 

Maybe the better solution to asking and answering this question would be to approach it from the outside. For example, looking it up online or reading through one of many books on the market about peoples' brain injury experiences. That would get one's curiosity sated, as well as let another person be more at ease in a conversation. 

Just food for thought.