perils with writing and whatnot
When I blacked out, Robin freaked out, the poor guy. Back when he was 19, he got caught with marijuana and had to spend 2 months in jail. I know, there were a lot of differences in the laws back then as compared to now, even with a couple of states allowing marijuana these days. Of course, back then, most weed wasn’t laced with anything else so the effect was different. Still, it was illegal then but the penalty wasn’t a stiff. Nevertheless, Robin didn’t want to experience jail again. There he was dating a minor and that minor became unconscious while on one of those dates. No wonder he freaked out.
I don’t know what happened during that time in between when I blacked out and I got home. Even then, all recollection is very fuzzy. I was told that Robin didn’t get me home until the next day. Even if this is so, I’m quite sure it was part of the freak out effect. I do remember being put in the backseat of the family car with my head resting on my mom’s lap. I felt the car roll down the driveway into the street.
At that moment when the first two tires hit the street, either I started to dream or I was on my way to death. I was moving down a dark corridor, more like a dark tunnel. Along the way I saw the outline of faces on the wall on either side of me. I hear voices that I didn’t recognize calling out to me.
I was taken to the city hospital and went through a series of tests for the next 24 hours. It was determined that I had a stroke. However, the tests could not tell what caused it. I didn’t have any alcohol or drugs in my system. My blood presser was low. I was a mystery patient. I still am.
I’m told that I was in and out of consciousness for 2 weeks. Apparently, people could wake me up but I’d go back under again. The prognosis that was given to my parents was that the stroke had effected the entire right side of my body and I would be more or less a vegetable for the rest of my life because of the brain damage done.
After those 2 first weeks, I was more aware of what was going on when I was awake. I had stopped going into the state of being semi-conscious. I was in a semi-private room for a month at a private hospital. My “roommate”, Linda Garcia was an inpatient because of headaches from the depths of hell. Yet, she insisted that the TV be on for me during parts of each day because she thought seeing and hearing the activity on TV would help me become more alert. She was right too. I find it astounding that a 19-year-old girl in such awful pain could figure out what would help me and yet, the doctors couldn’t.
After my stay at the private hospital, I was moved to a rehabilitation center, Craig Rehabilitation Hospital in Englewood, Colorado. I took physical and occupational therapy non-stop for a month. When I was first admitted there, I couldn’t even push my own wheelchair. Thinking about the future was completely foreign to me. Yet, at the end of that one month, I was up walking with a half-leg brace and cane. I became interested in what the rest of my life would be. I talked to a social worker there about taking a couple of college courses and that person had followed through and had me all set up for registration day after the first of the new year at a community college in the area. I guess the idea of me being a vegetable was bogus.
I’ve never seen Robin again. I tried to find him a few times, but after a while I decided that he was probably much better off just forgetting about me completely as an episode in his life. True, he didn’t do the right thing at all, but I can’t blame him for what happened to me. Even the doctors can’t figure out why it happened.
Text+Sound by Wayne Mason
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