Excuse Me, My Brains Have Stepped Out Read online

  The first time you end up confronting him is his opportune moment to sweet talk his way back into your arms, at least until the next confrontation and eventual, impending disastrous breakup. Heartbreak aside, I have come to learn that if someone is scared about showing you off at the places he frequents, he is not necessarily embarrassed by you. He might just be too afraid of getting caught.

  THE DEVIL WORKS

  If you ever need an accurate picture of what hell would be like, work in an office. Any office where you have a group of at least ten different characters with varying ranks will provide you an accurate display of how the worst of people will outshine every piece of decor available within the building. If you need a closer depiction of what the devil would be like then you can think of the boss who expects you do everything for her. Collect her laundry, clean her table, arrange her files, water her plants, drive her home when she is too drunk to do it herself even though you live in the opposite direction, buy her cigarettes, handle all office phone calls and let’s not forget, you need to do your work as well. Your position on paper signifies the high-powered executive you long to be but in reality, you can be likened to an ant being trampled and constantly trying your best to get to the other end of the room for safety.

  Without a doubt, your job had a long list of candidates waiting ahead of you. How many prestigious hotels seek junior associates and provide them with such a high salary? This makes you feel very fortunate knowing you have been given the job until you realize that you have just walked into hell on earth. You need this job, very much. On the one hand, the perks that come from working in the service industry are a welcome addition to your life. Additionally, since no insurance is willing to cover your unique and increasingly expensive medical condition, you cover it up thinking you will get away with it. The less people know about it, the less crazy you will seem to others. Alas, the devil finds out, spills the beans, fires you and you are out in the cold so fast you do not even know what has hit you. Forget all the positive contributions you have made at the work place. She cannot tolerate the two day leave of absence you request once a month and she does not appreciate it when she finds out that the applications are medical oriented with something as foreign as lumbar punctures being done.

  It is fine. You can always find another job. Maybe you can be honest and tell them about what you have. There must be some allowance for people who have rare neurological conditions. Think again. You end up with a different type of a boss in a different part of hell on earth. This one knows about your condition and repeatedly tells people about it. You can be meeting someone for the first time and she will say, “oh, have you heard of this condition?” and she will nudge you to explain it. After a while you lose sight of her motives. Is she is doing this out of concern or is she making fun of you publicly. When you take time off for a lumbar puncture, the whole office knows and when you get back, you are greeted with snickers because no one believes such a thing as lumbar punctures even exists. No problem. All you need to do is work even harder and show them that you are capable of doing the task at hand. Wrong.

  When the company needs to cut costs, you are the first one to get booted out. Talk about needing the income. At this point, you will take anything that comes along as long as you can earn a reasonable amount of cash that will cover your medical expenses.

  And so, here is another type of colleague available in the job market to add problems to your already very complicated life. This is the person who irrelevant of day, time or season will talk about nothing else other than shopping, holidays and having an easy life. While she talks, you are working. While she keeps talking, you are doing her share of work. She arrives late to work, day after day while you arrive half an hour early to make sure all the work is done, yours and hers. You somehow think that she will notice your contribution and make it a point to chip in or at least tell your supervisors a fair story about who is doing what. Wrong again.

  She makes a complaint about your medical leave. On the days when you are gone, she has to cover for you and this is a great burden to her, making her less productive. So, one more firing squad is established in your name. When you approach organizations who offer help for the ‘less fortunate’, you are told to “get a job”. Rare brain conditions are not deemed to be less fortunate. When you try to get a job, nobody tolerates a rare brain condition. When you do not have a job, you do not have an income. When you try to work it out on your own setting up a small business, earning a moderate income, you need to complete tons and tons of paperwork. Not to mention being absolutely careful in covering up your condition. When you finally get through all of this, you stumble onto a client who refuses you payment and sets you back by tens of thousands. And there you are, right back where you started. So, how is this supposed to work, Dad? I am really so confused and so very disheartened about what to do next. Please, let us talk soon.

  A COUPON CALLED HOPE

  March 10, 2010

  Dad, these are the moments when I wish I can once again be that three year old sitting in your lap. As surgery looms even closer, my thoughts drift from past to present to future and then sometimes I get jumbled up between all three wondering why I have so many questions and so little answers. Yet, I know the best thing to do is to have faith and hope in the knowledge that everything will work out for the best, as it always does. One thing I know for sure is that the memories that keep replaying in my head are not of all the miserable things that have happened or the people who made it so, instead my thoughts are occupied with moments of laughter, joy, support and most of all, hope.

  Support Beams. There will always be family and friends in all our lives and of course, some friends who become like family. Forget about the ones who have gone out of their way to hurt you, just because they can by any means they can. Some people realize too late that hurting people is not part of the journey to becoming ‘rich’. Remember instead the voice that says, “You have to take this strong. You have made it so far, this is not going to stop you. You will be fine, and better.” Remember the encouragement you receive when you keep asking “Why did this have to happen to me?” in the assurance that goes something like this, “Sometimes we need to fall from the clouds to the ground to see the road ahead.” Even remember the ones who take every possible opportunity to tell you what they like about your work, be it your writing, your craft or anything you do and the ones who have no issues at all about shuttling you to and from the hospital on a regular basis. Remember their encouragement because it is their way of saying “We love you as you are and we do not want to change you. You have your own talents, use them as best you can. We love that about you.” Yes, you won’t hear these things from every person that crosses your path but you will have the few essential support beams to hold you strong and will give you the feeling that you cannot give up on yourself for the simple reason that they have not given up on you.

  Peas and Carrots. The next time someone says love can be found in unexpected places from the most unexpected situations, do not laugh. Because it does. It may not be everything you want or in the situation you want but it will be what you need the most. It will be the gentle voice that tells you, “brain surgery is not a walk in the park” and he has no qualms about taking the journey with you. It will be the soothing reassurance as you are about to bawl your eyes out that things will be fine. He will insist that he is not giving up even though you feel like it. When you worry about baldness or scars, he’ll say, “hair grows back and scars will heal”. Mostly, he’ll take every opportunity he can, across the miles or not to say he loves you. He will laugh and say that the two of you are like peas and carrots and it does not matter that your quirky differences make you the way you are, it’s what he adores about you. He will wear his heart on his sleeve and be patient when you are having a bad day, listening to you rant just so you can feel better or to provide the simple consolation that you have someone to talk to at the end of each day and more importantly, someone who understands you.
r />   Small Miracles. Children are proof that God gives us daily miracles. They come in complete bundles of questions, discoveries and a flurry of activity. You already know, Dad that I have not been fortunate enough to have my own. But what I do know, nothing tops the feeling of having a little nose rubbing against yours or the little hand that holds yours thinking he is holding it because he needs comfort when in fact, it is you who is being comforted. Yes, you will laugh when they refer to you as the fairy godmother who helps to build an imaginary house from cushions or when he asks to make purple Christmas ornaments for an orange Christmas tree but these are the memories a little child will offer you without ever realizing how much his antics actually mean to you.

  Medicine Man. When faced with a perplexing medical condition, we all hope for a miracle, in any form. We want a cure, we want to be healed but most of all we just want it to go away so our lives can go back to ‘normal’. Sometimes we are faced with doctors and nurses who think of us as just another patient with just another condition. They are so engrossed in the technicalities involved, they forget that you have feelings and that you’re capable of worry or that you need comfort in knowing that despite the condition you are have, you are normal. As difficult as it is, I would like to say, do not despair. Everyone is different and I have realized that soon enough. I have been blessed with doctors and nurses who do not grimace at what I have and instead gently pat my hand before a lumbar puncture, a neurologist who takes the time to follow up on how I am doing, a neurosurgeon who calls personally when confirming surgery matters and the ones who do the most important task of all, they listen. So, yes, believe what you must about modern medicine but know this, there are still people who think medicine is about healing others and that their talent is not another way to tap into wealth.

  I know that I am no expert with a decorated wall of certificates to be flourishing you with such details but I can tell you, hospital beds and risky surgeries are not about fear or worry. Instead, they resemble hope in things and of people yet to come. It is the sense of appreciation for the best things you have close to your heart despite the worst of moments. It is not about rediscovering old hurts, it is about realizing the inner strength you have held together with people who love you. I am fortunate to have been blessed with these little memories that represent my coupon of hope which I will hold dear when lying on a hospital bed. My prayer for others in a similar position is that if they ever had to face something as challenging, they’ll each be blessed with the same.

  Still your three year old who needs a big, big cuddle, Anya.

  THE UNDESERVING PARENTS

  Hey Dad. Here are my thoughts on a completely different issue. You are in a league of your own so obviously this is not intended for you. I have come to understand that whatever the circumstances we are faced with in life be it good, bad or ugly, we grow up knowing that the role of a parent is to provide food, shelter and safety for their children. As we, supposedly, become adults these needs for physical items are often translated into something a little deeper such as encouragement, support and trust. Be it the newborn who will look towards her mother for care or the thirty year old man who seeks reassurance from his father when things are getting a little hard for him, I have always seen parenting as a gift bestowed to a lucky few. Maybe it is because I have this niggling doubt that I will be unable to have my own children. But even when I do, will I make a good parent? I’m always in awe of those who receive this gift assuming they are given the gift because they deserve it. There are instances when this is completely wrong.

  For some people, having children apparently does not make them parents. There is the father who calls a friend for help saying he has had a car emergency and cannot make it home in time to prepare dinner for his children. Your heart goes out to him as you rush out to buy a takeaway meal and have it sent over to his house where the kids are obviously grateful that some food has finally arrived. But something pulls at you. Something is not quite right. On your way home, you drive past the local pub. Lo and behold, his car is there minus a tow truck and a mechanic. Benefit of the doubt, maybe they have not arrived yet and you think you will go keep him company while he waits. Even as you walk in, you realize there is something wrong with the whole situation. He is there, not at all feeling down, playing a game of pool. Apparently, he forgot the pool game he had scheduled earlier and this was the reason he could not make it back in time for dinner. How is that for parenting class?

  There is even the mother who believes in spending so much time at the hair salon while her five year old daughter starves and asks the neighbours for food. Now, if the mother ends up looking like Cat Deeley after all those trips to the salon, some might think maybe, just maybe the effort was worth all that time and a starving child. But when you see more scalp than hair, you know she has made one too many trips. Never mind that the same child is repeatedly in hospital for swallowing insecticides, shoving beads up her nose and oh, get this Dad, for cutting her fingers with a knife. A knife not a blade. As if a blade is not bad enough, what is such a young child doing with a kitchen knife? Often, you will also see this child wandering around the neighbourhood, barefoot and when you tell her to put a pair of slippers on, she looks at you like you are stark raving mad.

  Then, of course you have the parents who continually forget to fetch their children from school because they have been busy drinking margaritas by the beach. Never mind that the child has to wait in the dark, sometimes alone, before said parent with high blood alcohol rate remembers and rushes off to pick up their little one. ‘Child forgetting’ is a habit on the rise, did you know that, Dad? Of course the child is not allowed to complain. Never mind the fear they felt, waiting alone. The parent will stress that being picked up and dropped off is a favour for the child. Right, so how else does the little one get to a school twenty minutes away?

  There are also those very gruesome abuse and murder cases of young children. Some people have been known to drop babies like they were playing football. I understand that this is the other extreme of things and not everyone is capable of such heinous crimes. But the fact that these incidences do happen, what does that say about us in general?

  Would we have the guts to stop it if we see it happening in front of us? If a child came to us and said my Mommy is hitting me and has the marks to prove it, do we stay quiet and insist the child is making it all up? After all, it is none of our business what happens to someone else’s child. Or do we speak up and make it a point to at least probe into what is happening? There are some situations that have me wondering, what is it about parenting that sometimes drives a parent to be more outlandish than their child? We insist that we are adult enough to have children and yet we are unable to perform as parents. When disaster strikes, as it often will, we turn ourselves into this monstrosity of a human being because we need someone to take out our stress on. Here is a thought, if we each had to stand at heaven’s gate, only allowed in based on our treatment of the children God has allowed in our lives, I wonder how many of us would still make it into heaven?

  CHILDREN OF TRADITION

  It is very interesting but even more amusing that a lot of people tend to confuse religion with tradition. There comes a point in our lives when we go around telling others that we MUST do this, yet have no clue or reason as to why we have to do the task at hand. We convince ourselves that our traditions make us pious and we are better off than others because we steadfastly hold on to these traditions. We know that the day will come when we will pass this folklore to our children who will then pass it on to their children. We assume that our children have no reservations about what they have been told but since they are not allowed to ask any questions about what can and cannot be done, then the assumption is they must be upholding these traditions. Is it really that simple? Apparently not. Children brought up within such an environment learn very fast that they cannot question their authority figures but then what they do not know, will not hurt them.

  And so each
child will have a secret life hidden away from the scrutiny of their traditional parents. Family functions will bring out the pious, demure, soft-spoken daughter who in the absence of her parents picks up random men during her many nights out at different bars. She loves the attention they shower on her and they love the sight of her curvy figure which is covered with as little cloth as she can manage when she is out. Plus, she can gulp tequila shots as one would drink cold water on a hot summer day. It seems unlikely that a person who goes to church at every opportune time and preaches that sex before marriage is wrong, is able to tell you about her sexual trysts in at least five different hotels with numerous men. This is the same daughter who when seen with her parents is praised for how she spends so many late nights working at the office and how she is patient with bosses who are so demanding of her. One person, two different personalities.

  What about the son who promises he will live his life only by the choices that his parents make for him. If they do not approve of something he is about to do, then he will not pursue this task no matter how much he wants to. Their happiness is his ultimate ambition. Such a sweetheart isn’t he? Sure, that is why he spends Saturday nights getting high on marijuana while watching porn and drinking vodka. When convenient, a group of them get together and invite a few strippers who, of course, will do far more than just strip. If you are to ask the parents where he is, they will tell you that he has gone out for dinner or he is working late at the office. But it must be obvious when he goes home trailing intoxication? That is just it. He does not go home until the next day. The excuse he gives is that it is not safe to be driving on a Saturday night with such drunken drivers around.