Not Dead Day

 This year's June 18th went far better than my last, although in saying that, I'm trusting everyone else, as I still have no memories of the day.  Yup, yesterday was my one year anniversary of of coming far too close to dying on the side of the road than I could ever possibly recommend, and I suppose it is well past time for an update of how I'm faring.  In three words, pretty effing amazing.  Heck, I can even still count to three!

I can still move, and in honor of that, I moved a bit yesterday.  My first outing had me running an errand up in Belchertown, which is likely where I was headed the morning I was hit, so yes, I rode past the impact zone, even giving a nod and greeting to the giant three foot diameter oak tree I fortunately avoided hitting (the investigating police officer said the scuff mark they assume was left by me hitting the ground was on the far side of the tree from the road, so I guess it's fortunate I was bumped hard enough to really propel me sideways).  This time, I made the round trip far more successfully.

Last weekend, my friend Mary Lynn and I met down in Springfield to spectate our mutual friend Linda compete in the half Ironman triathlon, which after consulting atomic numbers numbers in a periodic table of elements, I started referring to as an Aluminum-man.  In a nod and wink to that, I completed my own non-competitive TRAILathlon, heading up to the notch visitor center near home to run the ridge of the Holyoke Range before meandering over to the Sawmill trails to join the NCC junior mountain bike team for their Sunday jaunt.  En route there, I stopped at a pond in Earl's trails down from the notch for a cleanup dip.  Sure, it wasn't a true swim, but I'm more a sinker than a swimmer, so a degree of moderation is, well, healthy.  It was a wonderful day.

As for my noggin, that seems far closer to not-worse-than-it-ever-was than I had any expectation to hope.  Early in May, I was happily surprised to find old names lurking in my memory with only five to ten seconds of thought, which is about the challenge I remember from before the accident.  Of course, that is MY MEMORY, so take that with a couple grains of salt and pepper.  In speech therapy, I'd been told recovery would be two steps forward and one step back, so when my recall started to slip mid May, I wasn't dismayed (can one be dismayed in May?) especially since I hadn't expect that degree of recovery at all, and now that I'm truly disMAYed, having made it to another June, I feel that degree of acuity has returned.  Who knows, maybe in six months I'll be better than I ever was!  Like my line about wearing hi-viz gear when riding now, the brain injury hasn't made me any smarter, but I sure hope I'm noticeably brighter.

Speaking of horrible humor, I was reading through my hospital report last week, and the daily notes from the physical therapist would record a comment from "patient".  On my twelfth day in the hospital, I was quizzed about physical restrictions with the neck brace, to which I replied, "No stretching, less disco."  Yeah, I crack myself up, even three days later.