Excuse Me, My Brains Have Stepped Out Read online

  You see, her husband who happens to take recreational drugs, by the way, also moonlights at this company and overhears some of the other office associates discussing the affair. Details of their little “late evening trysts” reach his ears and the description is to a point where he knows it is more than likely true. Raging mad and very much under the influence, he drives himself to the office runner’s house. Once there, he stands outside the house and screams at the top of his lungs, seeking some sort of validation for his wife’s infidelity. Eventually, because the office runner’s girlfriend also happens to be inside the house, a massive scuffle ensues between both husband and lover. The neighbours are soon involved. The police are called. Our thrifty accountant arrives on the scene as fast as she can. She drags her two young children with her and is now faced with the chore of explaining herself to a crowd of at least one hundred people.

  As much as the affair is sordidly denied, the scene becomes heated. And so, the children watch as their father is taken away in handcuffs. They may be too young to understand what is being said but people shouting, their mother crying, their father being taken away can evoke a sense of lasting fear in any child. Her lover cannot reach out because they have both denied the affair and he now has his girlfriend on his arm. Bystanders who have been watching this scene start to see the cheating woman in a different light. Everybody knows everyone or so they think. If and only if they do not believe it, significant doubt has been raised. And so there she stands, in the midst of this very tangled web she has spun for herself, wondering how it has come to this. You know, Dad, even telling you this story has given me one of my headaches. The way I see it, if people go around thinking and acting in this manner, how do they get off telling me I’m the one with the brain condition? Seriously?

  PLEASE GOD, LET ME DIE

  May 23, 2010

  You already know that my surgery is over Dad. I now, officially, have a tube running from my brain to my stomach. A VP shunt that is what they call it. Apparently, it seems that it would be easier to talk about such a procedure before the surgery than after. As with most things in life and given any situation, we quickly draw a mental image of what it is supposed to be like alongside its outcomes and reactions. When something falls short or turns out differently, we forget about questioning our expectations and instead run head-on to blame the factors we think, contributed to the outcome. And so, I did the same. I convinced myself that the surgery would be a small procedure. As mentioned by my neurosurgeon, who of course does far more complicated procedures and probably needs a calm patient instead of one who freaks at the moment of general anesthesia, he thankfully neglected mentioning some crucial bits I would have to experience on the road to recovery.

  It is normal. After seven years, not days, not weeks, not months, seven years of having regular lumbar punctures barge into my life and make a mess of it, I got it in my head that the surgery would be my permanent fix-it. It would become a better brand of band-aid than I was used to. A short span of healing would see to it that my life is all back to ‘normal’. I would be able to see well enough to drive without having to worry about major blind spots. I would be able to see a full colour chart and not mistake colours. I was wrong. See, having a device in your head and a tube running from your brain to stomach is really anything but normal. The first difference that I did feel was that my headaches were gone and my eyes felt less heavy and I thought, “Wow, this is great.”

  But the first time I looked in the mirror, I saw a bald headed patient, with surgical dressings on her head, right side chest and right side abdomen. So yes, it is not normal that you need to have such a procedure just to allow yourself a chance at being less hazardous when driving. And as often as I may sometimes feel down or make a bitter remark at wondering why I would have to go through this, there are even more times when I think, what is the use of being normal anyway? You lose out on every single chance of being extraordinary and being in the company of even more extraordinary people.

  Pain like never before. Nothing prepares you for the pain you feel when you are regaining consciousness, wondering if it is all over. As detailed as everyone (neurosurgeon, assisting doctors, anesthesiologists) was about how you are supposed to feel after the surgery, this was worse. I remembered asking the nurse if the surgery was finished and if we could stop for awhile. I made a feeble attempt to tell her that there was so much pain and pressed her hand tightly. She automatically guided my fingers to the little knob placed between my fingers so I could press for the drops of morphine that would function to ease my pain.

  But even as I waited for the morphine to drip through from IV to blood or in the moments when the agony came back, the suffering is so bad I just did not want to imagine another five minutes of it.

  As my fingers and toes curled up, the only thought running through my head was, “Please, God, let me die.” Yes, the anesthetic and the beginning stages of morphine might make the rest of the world incoherent but until you have those precious drops of medical miracle in your system, nothing keeps you from the torment. Nothing. After more than three weeks of recovery, I am thankful that I have not had to cross paths with such pangs again. Yes, there is pain on a daily basis as the surgical wounds heal. There are moments when I am torn between the discomfort of lying down to the pain of keeping my neck upright when I sit but because I have dealt with something far worse, I know these moments of discomfort will pass.

  Yes, it is really better not to know. I cannot remember how much time passed after the surgery before I regained complete consciousness. However, I do remember as I was waiting for the nurses to sponge me the next morning, I felt tiny trails of dried blood on the sides of my face from forehead to ear, I felt little scratch marks on both sides of my forehead, literally in the middle of my temples. When I got home to a proper bath and stood in front of a full length mirror, I saw more scratches on the inner part of my left arm and a little needle mark. I remember thinking, “Wait. All these are new. And I do not remember these bits.” Then again, as I watched the Manchurian Candidate with Denzel Washington, a really bad movie choice by the way if you are recovering from brain surgery, they showed a scene where the lead character’s head is clamped down with a metal piece when having a brain procedure done. This obviously needed to be done to keep the patient still but it also drilled a jarring Frankenstein image into my head, and I thought, “You know what, never mind.” The scratches and the marks will heal even before my first surgical check up. The surgery was an overall success and I do not want to smear that image by thinking of what was done and even more so, how it was done, it is just not going to help me recover in any way.

  This is me. As delightful as it is to have well wishers when going through a difficult patch, I think its far worse when people around you do not make an attempt to understand what you are going through. Not only do they misinform themselves on what you need or what you have just been through, they take immense pleasure in spreading the wrong information. In other words, from having a VP shunt, the story that is passed around will involve me having a brain tumour, dying from one or my favourite classic, “something in her head”, as incorrect as it may all seem. I have a VP shunt. Period. Only the ones who really care will make it a point to find out what this means and what it entails which is why as nice and as sweet as some people have offered to be, I have not been keen on all visitors. Not to mention, even with a scarf and proper clothing I still feel that I look like something the cat has dragged in. Yes, people may think this is rude, insensitive and even a little nutty. But how would they know? Nobody knows the pain or discomfort I can and may feel. Nobody can tell me how to feel at any given time. The only one who literally has insider information, is me.

  Also, not everyone is a mind reader. At some point, I know I have to voice out and say, “This is how I feel, I need to rest.” We are each different. For instance, there was another lady who had her shunt surgery on the same day. As I got up and started talking, with no blue black marks on the s
urgical areas, started feeding myself and was discharged, her shunt got blocked. Within a short period of time, her skull bones suffered an infection and the right side of her forehead sunk in. Same shunt type. Same day. Same surgeon even. We really are different in our own way. And in a moment of weakness, when I think I would rather be anyone else than me, I have learnt to seek solace in knowing, this is me. I may not be what someone else wants me to be but I can be what I want to be.

  What is the rush? I remember hearing somewhere that getting sick is the body’s way of telling your mind to slow down. You cannot believe how accurate this is, especially when it is your brains that have had a little ‘awakening’. I was so confident in thinking that I would be able to resume my normal tasks within two weeks. Nothing like brain surgery to wake up your senses, is there? Even as I write this letter to you, Dad I find the computer screen way too bright, almost as though I need sunglasses just to sit in front of it. An hour of sitting up has me feeling tired enough to lie down for a little while. I even have problems with spelling. When having a conversation, I sometimes need to literally give myself a minute before being able to compose a full sentence. Thankfully, I am blessed to be surrounded by people who do not laugh or raise an eyebrow when they realize these changes. Last week, when I brought it up to Bruce, knowing I had yawned through many a conversation with him being gracious enough not to make a comment, all he said was, “no one expects you to bounce back after something so big”. I had asked my neurosurgeon before the surgery about when I would be able to do my normal tasks, his answer was simple and to the point, “If you are up to it, you are up to it.” And really, that is the absolute truth. Unless it is immensely vital to rush around and get things done, which if you are doing and I think you may want to reconsider, there is really no harm in taking things slow and doing what you have to, one thing at a time. After all, is rushing going to make it any more perfect or provide our bodies with any extra energy that we may need?

  Even when you told me, Dad and I did not listen, now I realize the most important thing of all is knowing that no matter how difficult a situation is, we can be assured that we will learn from it while finding solace in believing that it will pass. As much as you are having a “Please God, let me die” moment or when everything has just caved in and you feel weighed down by all that rubble and someone tells you “it will pass”, do not take it as an insult or think the person is being rude. Consider whom it is coming from and most times, it will be from someone who has seen a little or even a lot more than you have. This is their short but gentle way of saying, “It really does get better, even if it takes longer that you expect”.

  I’M NOT MEDDLING, I’M HELPING

  At first glance, the friendly meddler is the person who seems so helpful and so informative, you instantly want to pour your heart out to her because you know it will make you feel better. In return, she gives you a well-crafted impression about how people often misunderstand her intentions and that she means people no harm although many people would like to think otherwise. She insists that she is fully capable of helping and not meddling with someone else’s decisions. You will believe her at first but as time goes on, this is something you can throw into your “I made a mistake” box and learn from it. If she cannot help you by physically doing a favour, she is always on hand to offer some fantastic moral support. She appears well-connected and has a string of resources for everything you need be it a job, a house or extra income methods. All you have to do is ask her and it is done. That is, until you tell her “no” or you do not do something she want you to do.

  This is the person who for all her greatness will never understand that people are different and people are fully capable of making their own choices. When you choose something she does not like, you will witness a dramatic change in her almost overnight if not sooner. When this change comes, you will be lucky if you can get a “hello” out of her. You will spend weeks and maybe even months wondering how, where and why it all went wrong. Was it something you said or more like something you did not say. As adamantly as this person will deny it, she gets a thrill from one thing and one thing only, the satisfaction that she “made” you. All your successes are her trophies. Each favour she has done for you is because she has an immense sense of giving and because you are completely needy and helpless. In other words, without her, you are nothing. People help others for a lot of reasons.

  Some do it genuinely without expecting anything in return, others blindly, a few look for tax deductions and some even do it for the sake of being able to gloat about how so many people depend on them and their capabilities of making life better. Even as you begin to observe these radical changes in her, you now completely understand why she claims to be “misunderstood”. You try to talk to her, to see if there is a halfway meeting point about what you want in life and what she thinks you want in your life, but no such luck. All you will get are smirks and complete silence. I have always wondered, Dad, how does someone become like this? Do they wake up one morning and delude themselves into thinking they are capable of playing God? They seem to think that they can choose the rise and fall of a person’s character by only what they see and project to the rest of the world?

  Even when you first met her, you would have come across rumours that she practices black magic to get her way with people and you will tell yourself that such a notion is incredulous.

  But when some personal clothing items go missing from your home after a visit from her, you will almost want to believe these rumours against every logical bone in your body. Rest assured that even when she no longer speaks to you, she will take it upon herself to become your voice. She will freely tell others about the kind of person you are, from her perspective of course. Once again, the concoction of how much she helped you and how one more person has misunderstood her will be mixed and shared with others.

  This takes you back to the time when you were on speaking terms with her and how no morsel of information was capable of slipping past her until of course, you realized you do have a voice of your own and you are able to survive with a little less life meddling. Were your secrets ever safe with her? Yes, definitely but do not bask in the confidence that it will stay that way. Once you have uttered the all forbidden “no” to her, she does not regard you as someone to help. She needs someone at her mercy.

  This is when you will hear numerous rumours about yourself. So many different versions will pop up, you cannot imagine that such a “sweet” person is capable of such monstrosity. When you confront her, she will be all sugar and spice. She assures you that the same people who have previously misunderstood her are spreading the stories. She could never be capable of such a violation. The further you attempt to distance yourself, the more meddlesome she will become. The few occasions that you bump into each other, she will insist that she still wants to be your friend. She will bring things to the point where you will rather see her as a broken ornament which you can easily dispose than to consider any kind of friendship with such a person. Will you ever be able to rid yourself of her? Yes. When you stop feeling sorry for her and when you stop talking to her regardless of the sob stories she willingly shares with you.

  I GIVE YOU MY HEART

  No Dad, this letter does not speak of a great unfolding love story or great love that has spanned across decades, it is a few random events of how some people blatantly use this phrase without even understanding what it means. Some people say it so easily and then forget that the only way you can take back the “heart” you have given is by reaching deep inside and yanking it out or slowly, brutally slicing it off one piece at a time. There is the man who will say, “you are so special and you and only you, deserve my heart which I will gladly give you”. You are so happy that you are capable of being loved, you do not realize that he says this only so he is able to benefit from all your successes and use your benefits to his gain. Be it hotel stays, fancy meals or even trips around the world, it is all fantastic until he no longer receives these be
nefits or you ask him to stop sponging off you. Then, it dramatically changes from “I give you my heart” to “I need to rip my heart out of you” because you no longer mean anything to me.

  Then of course, there is the charming fiancé who does not have much when you both start out. This is fine because you do not have much as well. Over the span of four years, the two of you grow alongside each other, complementing one another, making plans for the future as things fall into place. And then he receives a promotion and moves up the corporate ladder. The same happens to you. Slowly, things do not seem to be in place anymore. Be it from lack of attention or the need to try something new, he cheats.

  You know nothing of this but your fights become increasingly frequent. He accuses you of having an affair. He claims that he cannot cope with the changes that are happening in your work life. He needs a break. You need a break. And so he leaves, he walks out on you when you need him the most. He rips his heart from you, stomps all over yours and moves on with his life like the past four years mean nothing to him.