I had a funny moment yesterday. I was having a cup of green tea right before 6 o’clock (this is when my drinking window closes – I was advised in the hospital to limit liquids after 6 so I wouldn’t be getting up all night), and I remembered that Katie’s Red Velvet Brownies are indeed NOT dairy free as I originally stated (unless you use soy yogurt). So I fixed all of the pictures/text I could that was already online, and I apologize for misleading anyone. It was unintentional, I promise. I blame the brain injury. In case you missed it, a large chunk of my cerebellum is missing. The cerebellum isn’t in charge of remembering the ingredients in a recipe, but I surmise that messing with one portion of the brain didn’t have a truly isolated impact. I have never asked my surgeon how much since it doesn’t really matter anymore – I’m proof that you can live with a partial brain and knowing the hard number (I do know a ballpark via my neurologist, but I don’t state it publicly) won’t impact the way I live. I feel the way I do, and I try to compensate – it’s been the same since before I was aware anything had been removed during surgery, too. I just trot out the fact that I’m functioning with fewer grey cells than pre-AVM as a convenient excuse when I have a brain flop moment.
Side Note: I saw a heartbreaking picture yesterday (like the one below) of wheelchairs waiting behind a police barricade at the Boston Marathon. I have been assured multiple times that removing anything during surgery is a necessary life-saving action, and nothing is removed unless it HAS to be removed. I would assume the same rule for amputation. To those who lost limb(s) at the marathon, in combat, in a car wreck etc. – you can and will learn to live again.
A brain flop moment is more desirable than a falling flop moment – when you actually fall while walking. The first time I fell in public my sister consoled me by telling me a story of a lady walking into the elementary school at the same time as Ai Ai. The lady tripped and her stroller went rolling but thankfully my sister caught it and the baby before they got too far away. So falling happens even to perfectly able-bodied people. It just happens more often to me than you.
Falling is becoming such a normal part of life I’ve learned to barely notice it any more. I might lose my balance and gasp, but I move on as quickly as possible since it’s such a commonplace occurrence and I’d rather continue the conversation I was having or keep my activity going, etc. A few weeks ago I was at Pool Therapy and E asked me if there was anything new going on. I had been absent for a while and I showed up with my back hurting. “Any falls?” she asked. “Not on the floor or anything,” I told her. But then I thought a little harder and was like, “Okay, maybe once on the floor.”
I had honestly forgotten! I’m glad I’m able to forget things like this. Of course, I’d rather not fall in the first place, but since I do fall I’m pleased that it doesn’t rattle me like it used to. It’s a common saying that if you fall, you get up again [and do whatever you were trying to do]. It helps that I know how to fall, and am used to minimizing the chances of sprawling on the floor. But even in handling the mini-flops (e.g. when I can brace myself against a wall or a piece of furniture) I am too interested in living life to be distracted for long.
Ed would like you to read this: