October 24, 2019
Chiang Mai Ram Hospital
I’m old enough to know that life always changes in unexpected ways, but I’m not disciplined or skilled enough to have made the most out of that reality. Rather than make me special, that more accurately lumps me in with the majority of people, by my estimation. This story is a one-off example of when that truth doesn’t hold up to anything meaningful. My writing is also askew, as I’ve long been out of practice and the writer living within me is currently on the Disabled List.
A month ago, Lady and I were going around Chiang Mai, Thailand, where we work and call home. I got out of the taxi and got a scooter to navigate around the heart of city. Shortly after I was hit by a car. I flipped off the bike and landed on my head on the curb of a walkway. My head busted open and blood poured through the many cracks approaching my brain. I also broke four ribs. I remember none of this or the next several weeks. Lady told me about it all; I was taken into a vehicle and sped off to a hospital, where they sawed off a chunk of my skull larger than one of my hands.
The boneless area of my head would swell with pockets of blood, creating dangerous areas that prevented one from poking directly into my brain itself. My ribs would flex and swell,causing profound pain by frequently poking my lungs or other internal organs. Sneezing, damn diaphragm inflating, would push the bones around as well, delivering pain that I learned to avoid as best I could.
In my life I’ve broken about fifteen bones, I’ve had both hips replaced, and have largely lived a life that involved smiling through pain, understanding that complaining doesn’t have a point in such circumstances. Learning how to cope and reduce long-term damage is more useful. This injury soaked me in two related lessons: The pain I was going through also affected my memories of both real events and also of historical or literary importance by locking them from my active search. In many ways I’ve been able to flip the hand I’ve been dealt in order to use this truth to my benefit.
I mentioned that I have no recollection of the accident and the aftermath. I have also forgotten the lyrics to hundreds of songs. I’ve known who assassinated President Lincoln since I was 8 years old. The Booth name slipped my brain all day today and I angrily had to look up the name, despite remembering all of the details behind the events. Those slips and hundreds of others make me angry. I can’t trust how my brain is trying to mock me by getting me to believe by pushing a story that passes muster when first looked at again.
On the other hand, however, doctors, nurses, and family members have all had the same compliment to attribute to me. They appreciated and applauded my patience with the injuries and difficulties with the mental stalemate. After reflecting upon this statement, I slowly began to understand its truth and importance. I could no longer see the next step in Whatever Game, so it was wiser to focus on the factors that would reveal their importance within x amount of time. I also learned not to panic when I understood that the next step was too high or too far away for me to put too many chips behind. This taught me to handle things within proper due process, surprisingly with future aspirations and unexpected effects.
This helped me think about my nomadic life and my current work-related opportunities. Important goals and things that need to be painted in, but too much is happening *NOW* that need to first be settled or conquered. The current End Game requires too many variables to be accounted for at the moment for an adequate, let alone perfect, solution to be settled upon.
This so far has helped me navigate the issues that have long roamed my personality and zoomed through my consciousness, perhaps often looking for a way not to pay. I know the ones that cause me too much trouble and should be shied away from, and I know which information can be absorbed and need my direct attention. Sometimes they act the very same as each other now, before they separate into their unique paths. Keep a close eye on those. They frequently have a way of reading you that can leave you helpless until you smell out their unique games.
I suppose I’m out of time. I had planned on personalizing this to many people, but I think this is the bottom line. I have surgery in ten hours and I can only eat one more meal in the next two hours. The clock is winding down and I’m not sure how long I have to keep writing this prelude or when I’ll be able to put together the Post Surgical Thoughts onto a page.
Thanks to everyone who has reached out to me. Many have been in their own way. People I’ve worked with (both traditionally and artistically); friends from all over the world; special love to my brother and mother who came to visit. And perhaps the most love to Kylie (Lady), who has shown a Romanesque devotion to helping me however she can.
I thank everyone. Your kind words and actions have kept this prisoner free in thought and desire. Hopefully after I get my skull reattached today I’ll be better suited (in a certain amount of recovery time) to pursue the goals some of you have added to my Ledger.
Please stay in contact. I’ll do my best to do the same. Some people, when they are mentally ill or several drinks under the table, suggest that they need to get their head straight. I’m going to give it my best shot today. Hopefully the future bubbles I’ve planned will align once the doc physically gets my skull sorted. I’ve been working at it like a lumberjack on a log cabin. I feel confident in how I’ve lined up everything in my head. It’s time to put my bat on the ball.
Have a fantastic weekend!
Evan from Evansville